But he answered quickly: "Well, one of those grays beat me out of a hundred dollars. I can't help being interested." He detached his watch-charm from its catch and began to finger it carelessly; it was the head of an ape carved in ivory yellowed with age. The girl watched, fascinated, but she made no mention of it, for the jaw of the gambler was set in a hard line, and she felt, subconsciously, a widening distance between them. "Does the deaf-mute own the horses?" he was asking. "I suppose so." "This sounds like a regular catechism, doesn't it?" "I don't mind. Come to think of it, everything about the grays is queer. Well, I've never seen this man, but do you know what I think? That he lives off there in the mountains by himself because he's a sort of religious fanatic." "Religion? Crazy, maybe." "Maybe." "What's his religion?" "I don't know," said the girl coldly. "After you jerk lightning for a while, you aren't interested much in religion." He nodded, not quite sure of her position, but now her face darkened and she went on, gathering interest in the subject. "Oh, I've heard 'em rave about the God that made the earth and the stars and all that stuff; the mountains, too. I've heard 'em die asking for mercy and praising God. That's the way Dad went. It was drink that got him. But I'm for facts only. Far as I can see, when people come up against a thing they can't understand they just close their eyes and say, God! And when they're due to die, sometimes they're afraid and they say, God--because they think they're going out like a snuffed lantern and never will be lighted again." The gambler sat with his chin buried in his palm, and from beneath a heavy frown he studied the girl. "I don't hold malice more than the next one," said the girl, "but I saw Dad; and I've been sick of religion ever since. Besides, how do you explain the rotten things that happen in the world? Look at yesterday! The King of the Sea goes down with all on board. Were they all crooks? Were they all ready to die? They can tell me about God, but I say, 'Give me the proofs!'" She looked at Connor defiantly. "There's just one thing I believe in," she said, "that's luck!" He did not stir, but still studied her, and she flushed under the scrutiny. "Not that I've had enough luck to make me fond of it. I've been stuck up here on the edge of the world all my life. And how I've wanted to get away! How I've wanted it! I've begged for a chance--to cut out the work. If it doesn't make callouses on a girl's hands it will make them on her heart. I've been waiting all my life for a chance, and the chance has never come." Something flared in her. "Sometimes I think," she whispered, "that I can't stand it! That I'd do anything! Anything--just to get away." She stopped, and as her passion ebbed she was afraid she had said too much. "Shake," he said, stretching his hand across the table, "I'm with you. Luck! That's all there is running things!"