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dear girl, what can I do? On the one side, the man with unlimited money; on the other side, the man with unlimited debts. There is no question as to who will come out on top.”
    â€œThey are extraordinary, these Americans,” commented Mirelle. “It is not as though your wife were fond of you.”
    â€œWell,” said Derek, “what are we going to do about it?”
    She looked at him inquiringly. He came over and took both her hands in his.
    â€œAre you going to stick to me?”
    â€œWhat do you mean? After—?”
    â€œYes,” said Kettering. “After, when the creditors come down like wolves on the fold. I am damned fond of you, Mirelle; are you going to let me down?”
    She pulled her hands away from him.
    â€œYou know I adore you, Dereek.”
    He caught the note of evasion in her voice.
    â€œSo that’s that, is it? The rats will leave the sinking ship.”
    â€œAh, Dereek!”
    â€œOut with it,” he said violently. “You will fling me over; is that it?”
    She shrugged her shoulders.
    â€œI am very fond of you, mon ami —indeed I am fond of you. You are very charming— un beau garçon, but ce n’est pas practique. ”
    â€œYou are a rich man’s luxury, eh? Is that it?”
    â€œIf you like to put it that way.”
    She leaned back on the cushions, her head flung back.
    â€œAll the same, I am fond of you, Dereek.”
    He went over to the window and stood there some time looking out, with his back to her. Presently the dancer raised herself on her elbow and stared at him curiously.
    â€œWhat are you thinking of, mon ami? ”
    He grinned at her over his shoulder, a curious grin, that made her vaguely uneasy.
    â€œAs it happened, I was thinking of a woman, my dear.”
    â€œA woman, eh?”
    Mirelle pounced on something that she could understand.
    â€œYou are thinking of some other woman, is that it?”
    â€œOh, you needn’t worry; it is purely a fancy portrait. ‘Portrait of a lady with grey eyes.’ ”
    Mirelle said sharply, “When did you meet her?”
    Derek Kettering laughed, and his laughter had a mocking, ironical sound.
    â€œI ran into the lady in the corridor of the Savoy Hotel.”
    â€œWell! What did she say?”
    â€œAs far as I can remember, I said ‘I beg your pardon,’ and she said, ‘It doesn’t matter,’ or words to that effect.”
    â€œAnd then?” persisted the dancer.
    Kettering shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œAnd then—nothing. That was the end of the incident.”
    â€œI don’t understand a word of what you are talking about,” declared the dancer.
    â€œPortrait of a lady with grey eyes,” murmured Derek reflectively. “Just as well I am never likely to meet her again.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShe might bring me bad luck. Women do.”
    Mirelle slipped quietly from her couch, and came across to him, laying one long, snakelike arm round his neck.
    â€œYou are foolish, Dereek,” she murmured. “You are very foolish. You are beau garçon, and I adore you, but I am not made to be poor—no, decidedly I am not made to be poor. Now listen to me; everything is very simple. You must make it up with your
wife.”
    â€œI am afraid that’s not going to be actually in the sphere of practical politics,” said Derek drily.
    â€œHow do you say? I do not understand.”
    â€œVan Aldin, my dear, is not taking any. He is the kind of man who makes up his mind and sticks to it.”
    â€œI have heard of him,” nodded the dancer. “He is very rich, is he not? Almost the richest man in America. A few days ago, in Paris, he bought the most wonderful ruby in the world—‘Heart of Fire’ it is called.”
    Kettering did not answer. The dancer went on musingly:
    â€œIt is a wonderful stone—a stone that should belong to a woman like me. I love jewels,