She watched his stately departure deep in thought. She hardly
noticed the advent of Rupert Frack.
"Well," she said at last. "I s'pose you hate me. A man always
loathes owing success to a girl."
"No, Virginia, I'm very grateful. You were most generous. I
apologize for my rudeness this afternoon. I was extremely worried."
He stood awkwardly before her, a little grim, terribly sincere, as if
strange emotions began to work subtly in his soul. She reached out a
slender hand and touched his.
"All right, old boy. I'm glad you're glad. Lord F's very pleased
with you. Do ask Charles to come and see me."
She sat in the half light until the door clicked a third time, and
Sir Charles sauntered across the room, his spirit ever lilting to
hidden triumphant music. She made room for him on the settee, and
stared at him out of perplexed eyes.
"Charles," she pleaded at last, "tell me the riddle of life. I've
won my game and now I'm as flat as yesterday's soda-water."
Sir Charles crossed one knee over the other and clasped it gently.
"The struggle is like wine and achievement is death," he answered.
"Also you have hazarded your heart a very little and that's fatal in
diplomacy. As I said before, a suitable marriage is so much
better----"
Vingie placed a finger gently on his lips.
"I've sowed my first wild oat," she announced joyfully, "but only the
first. Marriage, did you say? Oh, Charles, think rather of all the
other little oats to come!"