the women who were there round her? She and the stout, middle-aged person standing behind her were probably the only "respectable" women in the Club.
And then, it was all so deliberate! Chester had once seen a man whom he greatly respected drunk, and the sight had ever remained with him. But, after all, a man may get drunk by accident—nay, it may almost be said that a man always gets drunk by accident. But, in this matter of risking her money at the baccarat table, Sylvia Bailey knew very well what she was about.
With a thrill of genuine distress the lawyer asked himself whether she had not, in very truth, already become a confirmed gambler. It was with an assured, familiar gesture that Sylvia placed her money on the green cloth, and then with what intelligent knowledge she followed the operations of the Banker!
He watched her when her fifty francs were swept away, and noted the calm manner with which she immediately took five louis from her pile, and pushed them, with her little rake, well on to the table.
But before the dealer of the cards had spoken the fateful words: "Le jeu est fait. Rien ne va plus!" Mrs. Bailey uttered an exclamation under her breath, and hurriedly rose from her chair.
She had suddenly seen Chester—seen his eyes fixed on her with a perplexed, angry look in them, and the look had made her wince.
Forgetting that she still had a stake on the green cloth, she turned away from the table and began making her way round the edge of the circle.
For a moment Chester lost sight of her—there were
