Sally changed the subject quickly. It was an unspeakable comfort to her to know--but Fox must not pursue that subject now. Fox had no intention of pursuing that subject; and they walked slowly to and fro over what had been Sally's beat, talking of anything or of nothing. Sally was content; and again she forgot Charlie and Jane and her errand, and she became almost gay. Those sombre old houses echoed quiet laughter, of a kind that they had not heard for goodness knows how many years, and low voices. Some more men came, singly, or in groups of two or three, and looked at them with curiosity. Sally hardly saw them. And the last group passed into the house and up the stairs and into the room where the table stood before the front windows and they stopped short at the sound of angry voices. The game had stopped, for the moment, and the dealer was leaning back with his hand upon the pack, waiting. There was a look upon his face of languid interest under the mask of indifference, as he gazed at the young fellow opposite, his face flushed now with impotent rage, and at the man leaning over him. The face above was flushed with anger, too, but it was not impotent. If Sally had seen it she would have been reminded of her father. The sight seemed to remind the dealer of something, but it was impossible to guess whether that something was pleasant or otherwise. Many things had happened to him which were not pleasant to think of. Indeed, the pleasant things were very few. He did not think of his past when he could help it. It was a thing to be avoided. "Come, Charlie," said Everett again, sharply. "You're to get up and go. We're all waiting." Charlie seemed to be divided between his long admiration of Everett--of what he said and did and was--and his helpless anger. He wavered. "You mean that I have got to leave the game?" he sputtered at last. "Why have I?" He hesitated a moment, looking from the cards to the dealer who still had that little look of languid interest upon his face. In fact, it was almost compelling a smile on the thin lips. Charlie could not have stood that. He looked away again quickly, but he did not look at Everett. He could not have stood that, either. "No," he said, with a sudden accession of courage, "I won't do it. The game can go on." The dealer did not move a muscle. Everett smiled. "You see," he answered, "that it will not go on with you in it. I'm right, Charlie?" he added, glancing up at the dealer; but it was less a question than a command. The dealer nodded. Still Charlie Ladue did not move. "Come, Ladue," Everett ordered impatiently. "Don't make them put you out. Cash in and go along. You know very well why. I promised to start you and I'm going to. And, let me tell you, I can do it."