"Oh, I beg pardon--you play, Mrs. Dunlap?" she
added to Constance.

"Oh, yes," Constance replied. "Almost anything--a little bit."

She had already noted that the chief object in the room, after all,
appeared to be a round table. About it the guests seemed naturally to
take their places.

"What shall it be to-night--bridge?" asked Watson, nonchalantly
fingering a little pack of gilt-edged cards which Bella had produced.

"Oh, no," cried Mrs. Noble. "Bridge is such a bore."

"Rum?"

"No--no. The regular game--poker."

"A dollar limit?"

"Oh, make it five," drawled Halsey impatiently.

Watson said nothing, but Bella patted Halsey's hand in approval, as if
all were on very good terms indeed. "I think that will make a nice
little game," she cut in, opening a drawer from which she took out a
box of blue, red and white chips of real ivory. Watson seemed naturally
to assume the role of banker.

"Aren't you going to join us?" asked Constance.

"Oh, I seldom play. You know, I'm too busy entertaining you people,"
excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few
minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed
glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice.

Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a
calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the first
deal and she dropped out.

Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly following
along until the show-down--which he won.

"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly betraying
her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?"

Halsey said nothing.

Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game." The
faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the desire
to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a gracious hostess
in her solicitude for her guests.

All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up. At
each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty--for
the "cards and refreshments."

It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and
women.

The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than
gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel gratings,
of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had passed away with
"reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of sporting life which had
gradually taken its pl