stranger, I might still be your banker. You must
have money from somewhere. Are you going to ask your husband?"

She bit her lip for a moment. If indeed he had known her actual
position, his hopes would have been higher still.

"I cannot possibly ask Henry for anything," she confessed. "I had made
up my mind to ask him to authorise the lawyers to advance me my next
quarter's allowance. After--what has passed between us, though,
and--considering everything, I don't feel that I can do it."

"Then may I ask how you really mean to get more money?" he went on
gently.

She looked at him a little piteously.

"Honestly, I don't know," she admitted. "I will be quite frank with you.
Henry allows me two thousand, five hundred a year. I brought nine
hundred pounds out with me, and I have nothing more to come until June."

"And how much have you left of the nine hundred pounds?" he asked.

"Not enough to pay my hotel bill," she groaned.

He smiled.

"Circumstances are too strong for you," he declared. "You must go to a
banker. I claim the right of being that banker. I shall draw up a
promissory note--no, we needn't do that--two or three cheques, perhaps,
dated June, August and October. I shall charge you five per cent.
interest and I shall lend you a thousand pounds."

Her eyes sparkled. The thought of the money was wonderful to her. A
thousand pounds in mille notes that very night! She thought it all over
rapidly. She would never run such risks again. She would play for small
amounts each day--just enough to amuse herself. Then, if she were lucky,
she would plunge, only she would choose the right moment. Very likely
she would be able to pay the whole amount back in a day or two. If Henry
minded, well, it was his own fault. He should have been different.

"You put it so kindly," she said gratefully, "that I am afraid I cannot
refuse. You are very, very considerate, Mr. Draconmeyer. It certainly
will be nicer to owe you the money than a stranger."

"I am only glad that you are going to be reasonable," he
remarked,--"glad, really, for both our sakes. And remember," he went on
cheerfully, "that one isn't young and at Monte Carlo too many times in
one's life. Make up your mind to enjoy yourself. If the luck goes
against you for a little longer, come again. You are bound to win in the
end. Now, if you like, we'll have our coffee outside. I'll go and fetch
the money and you shall make out your cheques."

He scribbled hasti