“I brought you here--and I shall not bring you again if you are going to gamble like that old Frankfurt banker over there. Why not follow the example of Mrs. Compton, who is decorously putting five franc pieces on the green at the next table?” “Oh, Ida! I like the sensation of doing big things. You just said we enjoyed letting loose our primitive instincts.” “Is that the way you felt? Well, here are three louis. Stake one at a time. I shall change the rest into notes and give them to you at the hotel.” He kept his eye on her, and she staked her gold pieces one after another and lost. “Now,” he said, “come into the bar and have a glass of wine or a lemon squash. I want to talk to you.” They found seats in a corner of the bar behind a little table, and Ora demurely ordered a lemonade. “I suppose you are going to scold me,” she murmured, although her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes rebellious. “What difference did it make? I am not poor, and I had won nearly all that I risked, anyhow. You have seen women gamble all your life. One would think that you were a hayseed, yourself.” “Shall I be quite honest? I fancy I was jealous. For the first time I saw you completely carried away. I had hoped to furnish that impulse myself!” “It is a wonderful sensation,” she said provokingly. “I doubt if anything but gambling could inspire it.” “Do you?” But he knew that it was no time for sentiment, and asked curiously, “Are you so fond of gold? I never saw such a greedy little thing.” “Remember I’ve walked round over gold for the best part of my life, and have a mine of my own. It fascinates me, but not because I care much about riches--I like the liberty that plenty of money gives; that, to my mind, is all that wealth means. But I loved the feeling of being possessed, of being absolutely reckless. I should have liked to know that my whole fortune depended upon that spinning ball. That would have been worth while! It makes one forget everything--everything!” He looked at her with half-closed eyes. “You have a secret chapter in your life,” he said. “Some day I shall read it. But I can’t make up my mind whether you are a born gambler or not.” Ora shrugged her shoulders. “To tell you the truth I shouldn’t care if I never saw a gambling table again. I have had the sensation. That is enough. I will admit I was rather disappointed not to lose that immense stake. Lucky at cards, you know.” “And you think you are unlucky in love?” Valdobia laughed, but his face was still grim. “How many men have you had in love with you already?” “That doesn’t count!” He turned pale. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean that I don’t believe I am destined to happiness. Don’t you think we know our lines instinctively?” “I know that you are trying to torment me. You are still excited and angry, so I shall not permit your words, significant as they are, to keep me awake tonight.” He was smiling again, but she saw the anger in his own eyes, and said impulsively: