"That horrid game!" Clara exclaimed. "Please don't mention it. I've
scarcely slept a wink all night for thinking of it."

Berenice looked at her in surprise.

"Do you mean to say," she inquired, deliberately, "that they allowed you
to play--and lose?"

"It wasn't their fault I lost," Clara answered. "Oh, what a fool I was.
Bobby Bristow showed me a system. It seemed so easy. I didn't think I
could possibly lose. It worked beautifully at first. I thought that I was
going to pay all my bills, and have lots of money to spend. Then I
doubled the stakes--I wanted to win a lot--and everything went wrong!"

"How much did you lose?" Berenice asked. Clara shivered.

"Don't ask me!" she cried. "Sir Leslie Borrowdean gave his own cheques
for all my I.O.U.'s. He is coming to see me some time to-day. I don't
know what I shall say to him."

"Do you mean to go on playing?" Berenice asked, quietly, "or is this
experience enough for you?"

"I shall never sit at a roulette table again as long as I live," she
declared. "I hate the very thought of it."

"Then you can just ask Sir Leslie the amount of the I.O.U.'s, and tell
him that he shall have a cheque in the morning," Berenice said. "I will
lend you the money."