He let his lids drop and would have none of her. They were curiously blue, she thought, as if of unutterable fatigue, and then quickly appraised that his luck was still letting him in for the walloping now of two weeks' duration. His diamond-and-opal scarfpin was gone, and the gold cuff links replaced with mother-of-pearl. She could be violently bitter about money, and when the flame of his personality was not there to be reckoned with, ten times a day she ejected him, with a venom that was a psychosis, out of her further toleration. Not so far gone was Winnie but that she could count on the twist of her body and the arch of her throat as revenue getters. At first Jason had been lavish, almost with a smack of some of the old days she had known, spending with the easy prodigality of the gambler in luck. There was a near-seal coat from him in her cupboard of near-silks, and the flimsy wooden walls of her rooms had been freshly papered in roses. Then his luck had turned, and to top his sparseness with her this new sullenness which she feared and yet which could be so delicious to her--reminiscently delicious. She gave him coffee, and he drank it like medicine out of a thick-lipped cup painted in roses. "My Red-boy blue," she reiterated, trying to ingratiate her arms about his neck. "Red-boy tells Winnie he won't be back for two whole days and then brings her surprise party very next day. Red-boy can't stay away from Winnie." "Let go." "Red-boy bring Winnie nothing? Not little weeny, weeny nothing?" drawing a design down his coat sleeve, her mouth bunched. Suddenly he jerked her so that the breath jumped in a warm fan of it against her face. "You're the only thing I've got in the world, Win. My luck's gone, but I've got you. Tell me I've got you." He could be equally intense over which street car to take, and she knew it, but somehow it lessened for her none of the lure of his nervosity, and with her mind recoiling from his pennilessness her body inclined. "Tell me, Winnie, that I have you." "You know you have," she said, and smiled, with her head back so that her face foreshortened. "I'm going far for you Winnie. Gambling is too rotten--and too easy. I want to build bridges for you. Practice law. Corner Wall Street." This last clicked. "Once," she said, lying back, with her pupils enlarging with the fleeting memories she was not always alert enough to clutch--"once--once when I lived around Central Park--a friend of mine--vice-president he was--Well, never mind, he was my friend--it was nothing for him to turn over a thousand or two a week for me in Wall Street." This exaggeration was gross, but it could feed the flame of his passion for her like oil. "I'll work us up and out of this! I've got better stuff in me. I want to wind you in pearls--diamonds--sapphires." "I had a five-thousand-dollar string once--of star sapphires."