Once more the ball slithered into the number she had backed, and she opened a small silken bag, that already bulged with her evening's gains, and added the winnings of the last coup. At the same moment, some one pressing from behind jolted her arm, and the bag fell with a little thud, its contents spilling out on the floor. Tony, engrossed in the play, failed to notice the mishap and went on staking, but the Englishman, apparently quite unconcerned as to the chances he might be missing, stooped at once and collected the bag and its scattered contents. "I think I've rescued everything," he said, as he handed it to her. "But you'd better count it over and make certain." "Oh, no, I won't count it. It's sure to be all right. Thank you so much." Ann spoke rather breathlessly. For some reason or other she felt unaccountably nervous. The man smiled. "You've become such a Croesus to-night that I suppose an odd franc or two doesn't matter?" he suggested. "I _have_ been lucky, haven't I?" she acknowledged frankly. "It's been such fun." Then, with friendly sympathy: "I'm afraid you've lost, though?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm used to losing," he replied indifferently. Somehow, Ann felt as though he were not thinking only of his losses at the tables. That note of bitterness in his voice sprang from some deeper undercurrent. "I'm so sorry," she said simply. "I never expect to win," he returned curtly. "If you expect nothing, you're never disappointed. Pray don't waste your sympathy." The rudeness of the speech took her aback. Yet, sensing in its very churlishness the sting of some old hurt, she answered him quietly, though with heightened colour: "If you expect nothing, you'll get nothing. That's one of the rules of the road." He checked himself in the act of turning away, and regarded her with a mixture of contempt and amusement, much as one might smile at the utterances of a child. "Don't you think we get mostly what we're looking for?" she went on courageously. "If you expect good things, they'll come to you, and if you're expecting bad things, they'll come, too." He gave a short laugh. "The doctrine of faith! I'm afraid I've outgrown it--many years ago." "_Faites vos jeux, messieurs_," intoned the croupier. The Englishman tossed a coin on to number nine. Ann followed the circlings of the ball with a curious tense anxiety. She wished desperately that the nine would turn up. _"Numéro un!"_ With a feeling akin to revolt she watched those who had staked on number one grab up their winnings, while the croupier raked in the Englishman's solitary bid for fortune. "You see?" The bitter grey eyes mocked her. "Quite symbolical, wasn't it?" With a slight bow he moved away from the table and passed quickly out of the room. Ann felt disinclined to play any further. She watched Tony win, then lose once, then win again several times in succession. He was flushed and there was a look of triumph on his face.