wanted to be fascinated, wanted it badly. He was in the mood for the
heavy hush of the Rooms, for the closeness, and the rich perfumes, which
mingling together seem like the smell of money piled on the green
tables; he was in a mood for the dimmed light like dull gold, gold
sifted into dust by passing through many hands.

He had got his ticket of admission to the Casino, after arriving
yesterday evening; but the Rooms had not pleased him then. He had not
played, and had merely walked through, looking at the people; but now he
went to a _trente et quarante_ table, and reaching over the shoulders of
the players--not so many as in the roulette rooms,--he put a five
hundred franc note on _couleur_. It won. He let the money lie, and it
won again. A third time and a fourth he left the notes on, and still
luck was with him. He was in for a good run.

As it happened, nobody else had been playing higher than _plaques_, the
handsome hundred franc gold pieces coined for the Principality of
Monaco; and people began to watch the new comer, as they always do one
who plays high and is lucky. On the fifth deal he had won the maximum.
He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a voice close to
his shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off. I feel it's going to lose
now. To please _me_."

[Illustration: He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a
voice close to his shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off." Page 12.

--_Rosemary._]

He glanced aside, and saw an exceedingly pretty, dark face, which looked
vaguely familiar. With a smile, he took up all the notes, and only just