She turned a card, took the deal, found Anthony Pope her partner, and entered into the game with spirit.  Richard’s first words to her were reassuring; if there was constraint here, she was not involved in it.

“No trump—­says little Miss Field.  Well, that doesn’t seem to frighten me.  Two spades.”

“I think we might try three diamonds, Miss Field,” Anthony said, gravely and pleasantly, and Harriet felt herself acquitted of any apprehension in that direction as well.  It only remained for Isabelle to show friendliness.

“Du hast diamonten and perlen, you two.  I can see that!  You’re down, Harriet!” Mrs. Carter said, thoughtfully.  Harriet began thoroughly to enjoy herself!  If they were all furious, at least it was not with her.  She speculated, as she gathered in her tricks.  Was it conceivable that Richard did not enjoy the discovery of the tete-a-tete dinner?  But Isabelle had often been equally indiscreet, and he had never seemed to resent it before.  Harriet knew that Isabelle was ill at ease; she suspected that Tony was furious.  The old lady was obviously quivering with baffled interest and curiosity.

In the little pool of light over the card table the air seemed to grow hotter and hotter; there was suffocation in the velvet darkness.  A distant rumble of thunder broke heavily on the silence, the sky glimmered with shaking light, and the great leaves of the sycamores turned languidly in a hot breeze.  Harriet, the only interested player, was unfortunate with Tony, unfortunate with Isabelle.  After three rubbers the game ended suddenly; Richard said he had some letters to write, and was keeping Fox waiting in the library; Anthony scribbled a check, said brief and unfriendly good-nights; Isabelle merely raised passionate dark eyes to his.  She was languidly gathering in her spoils when the lights of his car flashed yellow on the drive and he was gone.  Harriet, who had lost more than twenty dollars, gave a rueful laugh.  The old lady watched everyone in expectant silence.

But when Richard spoke it was only to Harriet, and then in an undertone almost fatherly: 

“You lose no money when we ask you to oblige us by playing, my dear.  I won’t permit that!  Twenty dollars and forty cents, was it?  Consider it paid.”

“Oh, but truly—­” she was beginning to protest.  The grave look in his eyes, the authoritative nod, interrupted her, and with a pleasant little sensation of protection and of friendliness she had to concede the point.  Immediately afterward he said good-night to his mother and wife, and went in to his study.  Madame Carter followed him in, and went upstairs, but Isabelle sat on moodily shuffling and reshuffling the cards, in the bright soft light of the terrace lamps.

“Wait a minute, Harriet,” she said, briefly, and Harriet obediently loitered.  But Isabelle seemed to have nothing to say.  Her eyes were on the cards, her beautiful breast, exposed in the low-cut silver gown, rose and fell stormily, and Harriet saw that she was biting her full under lip, as if anger seethed strong within her.  In the gleam of the lamps her dark hair took the shine of lacquer; there were jewelled combs in it to-night, and the jewels winked lazily.