This was pretty sly, and done, I suppose, to remove all idea of
concert between the fair assailants; whereas it was a secret signal for
the concert to come into operation, it being Fanny's part to play upon
Severne, and Zoe's to watch, from her corner, every lineament of his face
under fire.
"By-the-way, Mr. Severne," said Fanny, apropos of a church on a hill they
were admiring, "did you get your winnings?"
"My winnings! You are sarcastical."
"Am I? Really I did not intend to be."
"No, no; forgive me; but that did seem a little cruel. Miss Dover, I was
a heavy loser."
"Not while we were there. The lady and gentleman who played with your
money won, oh, such a deal!"
"The devil they did!"
"Yes. Did you not stay behind, last night, to get it? We never saw you at
the Russie."
"I was very ill."
"Bleeding at the nose?"
"No. That always relieves me when it comes. I am subject to fainting
fits: once I lay insensible so long they were going to bury me. Now, do
pray tell me what makes you fancy anybody won a lot with my money."
"Well, I will. You know you left fifty pounds for a friend to bet with."
Severne stared; but was too eager for information to question her how she
knew this.
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