‘Did you, dearest? Are you cleaned out? I will let you have some more as soon as we reach home.’ ‘No, it is not that. It would not signify once in a way perhaps, but it is the same thing every night. It seems an awful waste of money.’ ‘Not if you enjoy it, dear. We must pay for our whistle, you know. Cards would be no fun without the stakes. And somebody must lose.’ ‘Yes, and somebody must win. Only, as it happens, it is always the same somebody, which doesn’t seem fair.’ ‘Nora, what do you mean?’ ‘Just what I say, Ilfracombe. I lose every night; so do you; so does Lord Babbage; and the only person who wins is Mr Portland. All the money seems to go into his pocket.’ ‘Oh, Nora, my darling, this is not fair of you. You are prejudiced against my old chum--I have seen that from the beginning--but to say that dear old Jack wins all the stakes, night after night, is as good as saying--oh, I am sure you cannot mean it--you cannot think of the meaning of what you say.’ ‘My dear Ilfracombe, there is no meaning about it. I am only speaking the plain truth. I’ve seen it for a long time. Doubtless, Mr Portland is the best player of the four, and that is the reason, but it has struck me as rather remarkable. And it seems so strange, too, that friends should want, or like to pocket each other’s money. Why can’t we play for the love of the game? It would be quite as interesting, surely.’ ‘No, no, child, it wouldn’t. Whoever heard of such a thing as grown men sitting down seriously to play for love?’ cried the earl merrily; ‘that’s only schoolgirl’s games. And I wonder to hear you, Nora, who are such a little woman of the world, suggesting such a thing. I should have thought you liked staking your money as well as anyone.’ ‘Perhaps it is because I am a woman of the world that I don’t like to see my husband’s money wasted. No income, however large, can stand such a strain long. Besides, I know it is not only cards on which you bet with Mr Portland. You go to races with him, and lose a lot of money there. Mr Castelton told me so!’ ‘It is not true, Nora, and Castelton had better mind his own business. Everybody must lose occasionally; but I always follow Jack’s lead, and he’s as safe as the church clock. And, after all, my dear girl, I’d as soon the tin went into old Jack’s pocket as my own. He’s awfully hard up sometimes, and if one can’t share some of one’s good things with one’s best friend, I don’t know what’s the use of them.’