excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few
minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed
glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice.

Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a
calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the
first deal and she dropped out.

Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly
following along until the show-down--which he won.

"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly
betraying her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?"

Halsey said nothing.

Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game."
The faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the
desire to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a
gracious hostess in her solicitude for her guests.

All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up.
At each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty
--for the "cards and refreshments."

It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and
women.

The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than
gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel