"Because that's your business—your mean little business," she said scornfully. "I know at last why you came to San Marco. I understand everything. You had gambled with Lord Harrowby, and you came here to see that you did not lose your money. Well, you've lost! Carry that news back to the concern you work for! In spite of your heroic efforts, you've lost! At the last moment Cynthia Meyrick changed her mind!"
Lost! The word cut Minot to the quick. Lost, indeed! Lost Jephson's stake—lost the girl he loved! He had failed Jephson—failed himself! After all he had done—all he had sacrificed. A double defeat, and therefore doubly bitter.
"Cynthia—surely you don't mean—" Lord Harrowby was pleading.
"I do, Allan," said the girl more gently. "It was true—what I told you—there by the window. It is better—father! Will you go down and—say—I'm not to be married, after all?"
Spencer Meyrick nodded, and turned toward the door.
