Breakfast was brought to her room, but she could not touch it. Then suddenly a feeling of terrible loneliness came over her. She realized she was alone in Monte Carlo, where she knew nobody but people to whom Jessica had introduced her, and whom she had no wish to meet again. True, she had money enough to pay her fare home, but had she enough to pay the bill at this very expensive hotel where she had been staying already a fortnight? To offer the manager a cheque might, she felt, lead to unpleasantness should he refuse to accept it. She dressed as quickly as she could, and went out into the town. The sun was shining brightly, and the band playing, and crowds of well-dressed men and women seemed to be everywhere. She was conscious, as she wandered aimlessly through the beautiful gardens of the Casino, of attracting attention and admiration. Presently her gaze rested on the entrance to the Casino. A stream of people was passing in and out. The band was playing a jazz which she loved, and the music stirred her pulse. For the moment the thought of her distress rested less heavily on her mind. And then, all at once, the gambling fever, which had temporarily subsided, began to reassert itself. Play would be in full swing now, she reflected. She pictured the crowd grouped around the roulette. She heard the croupier’s bored voice droning “_Faites vos jeux_,” and “_Rien n’va plus_,” and the rattle of the little ball as it spun merrily round in the revolving well. Then she saw the numbers slowing down, saw them stop, and heard the croupier calling: “_Le numéro quinze!_” She opened her vanity bag, pulled out the money it contained, and proceeded to count it carefully. It was all the ready money she possessed. Certainly it did not amount to enough to settle her hotel bill for the past fortnight, and the bill was bound to be presented soon. She had come to look upon winning at the tables as a matter of daily routine. Also, she yearned to play again. The Casino with its heated atmosphere, its scented women, its piles of notes and its chink of gold, seemed to be calling to her, beckoning her to come and fill her depleted coffers at its generous fount of wealth, especially now that she needed money. For a brief moment she thought of Preston, and of their last meeting, and of his earnest warning. Then, dispelling the disagreeable reflection, she stuffed her money back into her bag, shut it with a snap, rose, and walked quickly in the direction of the famous Temple of Mammon. She had little difficulty in securing a seat. For a minute or two she watched the play. Then she backed the number she had thought of while in the gardens--_le numero quinze_. It came up. She backed it again, and once more swept in her winnings. Then she started playing _en plein_, recklessly and with big stakes, as she had been in the habit of doing. But her luck had suddenly changed. Again and again she lost. She doubled, and trebled, and quadrupled her stakes.