It is at Monte Carlo, however, that Mrs. Hazard really feels the full expansive joy of living. There she breathes excitement in the air, there she vents the full passion of her nature. The gaming tables at Monte Carlo appear to her the proper sphere of her life. The wonderful blue skies of the Riviera, the exquisite colour of the scenery, the beautiful exuberance of the flowers, the light and gaiety of the careless life, the variety of character and nationality that is lured to the sunny, seductive South—all this has little meaning for her except as an adjunct to the passionate pleasure of play. That draws her to Monte Carlo with the irresistible force of a magnet. When she first arrives she perceives that the sky is blue, but afterwards it might be yellow or red for all she would know from ocular observation. She knows that the gaming table is green; but for the sky and the flowers she simply feels that they are beautiful, for she is intoxicated with the atmosphere of the place. All else but the tables is a kind of sensation in a dream—the tables alone are distinct and tangible. She is sensibly conscious that the rest exists, but she gives no thought to it. If, as she dresses herself in the morning, she looks out of the windows at the beautiful “blue deep” of the sky, it is only with a sense of gladness that another day of delicious excitement has dawned, and her thoughts are not concerned with the beauty of the earth and the sky in that land of sunshine and flowers, but with the chances of the table, the hazards of a “system,” and the calculation of gains and losses.