The freedom and lightness of the ducal intercourse made an agreeable change from these complications, and Lily was tempted, after luncheon, to adjourn in the wake of her companions to the hectic atmosphere of the Casino.

She did not mean to play; her diminished pocket-money offered small scope for the adventure; but it amused her to sit on a divan, under the doubtful protection of the Duchess's back, while the latter hung above her stakes at a neighbouring table.
The rooms were packed with the gazing throng which, in the afternoon hours, trickles heavily between the tables, like the Sunday crowd in a lion-house.

In the stagnant flow of the mass, identities were hardly distinguishable; but Lily presently saw Mrs.Bry cleaving her determined way through the doors, and, in the broad wake she left, the light figure of Mrs.Fisher bobbing after her like a row-boat at the stern of a tug.
Mrs.Bry pressed on, evidently animated by the resolve to reach a certain point in the rooms; but Mrs.Fisher, as she passed Lily, broke from her towing-line, and let herself float to the girl's side.
"Lose her ?" she echoed the latter's query, with an indifferent glance at Mrs.Bry's retreating back.

"I daresay--it doesn't matter: I HAVE lost her already." And, as Lily exclaimed, she added: "We had an awful row this morning.

You know, of course, that the Duchess chucked her at dinner last night, and she thinks it was my fault--my want of management.