But she intended that she should be.

That was now a part of her plan as it shaped itself in her mind, since she had plunged or, perhaps better, had been dragged into the game.
As the evening wore on and the dancing became more furious, Warrington seemed to catch the spirit of recklessness that was in the very air.

He talked more recklessly, once in a while with a bitterness not aimed at any one in particular, which passed among the others as blase sarcasm of one who had seen much and to whom even the fastest was slow.
But to Constance, as she tried to fathom him, it presented an entirely different interpretation.

For example, she asked herself, why had he been so ready, apparently, to transfer his interest from Stella?
Was it because, having cut loose from the one feminine tie that morally bound him, he no longer felt any restraint in cutting loose from others?
Was it the same spirit that had carried him on in the money game, having cut loose from one financial principle, to let all go and to guide his course as close to the edge of things as he dared?
There had been the same reckless bravado in the way he had urged on the driver of his car in the wild ride of the earlier evening, violating the speed laws yet succeeding in escaping the traffic squad.
Warrington was a plunger.

Yet there was something about him that was different from others she had seen.