e not alone in your sorrows? Linda, as
you know, has no companionship whatever to offer. She does nothing but
indulge in fretful regrets over her broken health. When I remember, too,
how lonely your days are, and think of your husband and what he might
make of them, then I cannot help realising with absolute vividness the
supreme irony of fate. Here am I, craving for nothing so much on earth
as the sympathy, the affection of--shall I say such a woman as you? And
your husband, who might have the best, remains utterly indifferent,
content with something far below the second best. And there is so much
in life, too," he went on, regretfully. "I cannot tell you how difficult
it is for me to sit still and see you worried about such a trifle as
money. Fancy the joy of giving you money!"

She awoke a little from her lethargy. She looked at him, startled.

"You haven't told me yet," he added, "how the game went last night?"

"I lost every penny of that thousand pounds," she declared. "That is why
I sent for my husband this morning and asked him to take me back to
England. I am getting afraid of the place. My luck seems to have gone
for ever."

He laughed softly.

"That doesn't sound like you," he observed. "Besides, what does it
matter? Write me out some more cheques when we get back. Date them this
year or next, or the year after--it really doesn't matter a bit. My
fortune is at your disposal. If it amuses you to lose a thousand pounds
in the afternoon, and twice as much at night, pray do."

She laughed at him. There was a certain glamour about his words which
appealed to her fancy.

"Why, you talk like a prince," she murmured, "and yet you know how
impossible it is."

"Is it?" he asked quietly.

She rose abruptly from her place. There was something wrong--she felt it
in the atmosphere--something that was almost choking her.

"Let us go back," she insisted.

He ordered the car without another word and they started off homewards.
It was not until they were nearing Monte Carlo that he spoke of anything
save the slightest topics.

"You must have a little more money," he told her, in a matter-of-fact
tone. "That is a necessity. There is no need to worry your husband. I
shall go and bring you a thousand pounds. You can give me the cheques
later."

She sat looking steadfastly ahead of her. She seemed to see her numbers
spread out before her, to hear the click of the ball, the croupier's
voice, the thrill of victory.