"You had better take up your winnings, or someone may claim them,"
muttered Anna anxiously.
"Oh, but I don't like to do that," said Sylvia.
"Of course you must!"
She put out her hand and took up her four gold pieces, leaving those of
the Count on the table. Then suddenly she put back the eighty francs on
the cloth, and smiled up at him; it was a gay little shame-faced smile.
"Please don't be cross with me, kind friend,"--that is what Sylvia's
smile seemed to say to Paul de Virieu--"but this is so _very_ exciting!"
He felt stirred to the heart. How sweet, how confidingly simple she
looked! And--and how very beautiful. He at once loved and hated to see
her there, his new little "_amie Anglaise_!"
"Are you going to leave the whole of it on this time?" whispered Anna.
"Yes, I think I will. It's rather fun. After all, I'm only risking twenty
francs!" whispered back Sylvia.
And once more she won.
"What a pity you didn't start playing with a hundred francs! Think of how
rich you would be now," said Anna, with the true gambler's instinct. "But
it is clear, child, that you are going to do well this evening, and I
shall follow your luck! Take the money off now, however.
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