Alone among all the people in the room, the Comte de Virieu looked as if
he lived a more or less outdoor life; his face was tanned, his blue eyes
were very bright, and the hands dealing out the cards were well-shaped
and muscular. Somehow he looked very different, she could hardly explain
how or why, from the men round him.
At last she moved round, so as to avoid being opposite to him.
Yes, she felt more comfortable now, and slowly, almost insensibly, the
glamour of play began to steal over Sylvia Bailey's senses. She began to
understand the at once very simple and, to the uninitiated, intricate
game of Baccarat--to long, as Anna Wolsky longed, for the fateful nine,
eight, five, and four to be turned up.
She had fifty francs in her purse, and she ached to risk a gold piece.
"Do you think I might put down ten francs?" she whispered to Anna.
And the other laughed, and exclaimed, "Yes, of course you can!"
Sylvia put down a ten-franc piece, and a moment later it had become
twenty francs.
"Leave it on," murmured Anna, "and see what happens--"
Sylvia followed her friend's advice, and a larger gold piece was added to
the two already there.
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