young friend for the sacrifice of his innocence with a single, rapid,
upward smile. He had innocence enough left, however, to look round the
table with a gleeful, conscious laugh, in the midst of which his eyes
encountered my own. Then suddenly the familiar look which had vanished
from his face flickered up unmistakably; it was the boyish laugh of a
boyhood's friend. Stupid fellow that I was, I had been looking at Eugene
Pickering!

Though I lingered on for some time longer he failed to recognise me.
Recognition, I think, had kindled a smile in my own face; but, less
fortunate than he, I suppose my smile had ceased to be boyish. Now that
luck had faced about again, his companion played for herself--played and
won, hand over hand. At last she seemed disposed to rest on her gains,
and proceeded to bury them in the folds of her muslin. Pickering had
staked nothing for himself, but as he saw her prepare to withdraw he
offered her a double napoleon and begged her to place it. She shook her
head with great decision, and seemed to bid him put it up again; but he,
still blushing a good deal, pressed her with awkward ardour, and she at
last took it from him, looked at him a moment fixedly, and laid it on a
number. A moment later the croupier was raking it in. She gave the
young man a little nod which seemed to say, "I told you so;" he glanced
round the table again and laughed; she left her chair, and he made a way
for her through the crowd. Before going home I took a turn on the
terrace and looked down on the esplanade. The lamps were out, but the
warm starlight vaguely illumined a dozen figures scattered in couples.
One of these figures, I thought, was a lady in a white dress.

I had no intention of letting Pickering go without reminding him of our
old acquaintance. He had been a very singular boy, and I was curious to
see what had become of his singularity. I looked for him the next