...
Of course it was a pity when people lost more money than they could
afford at the Casino; but even in England people betted--the poor, so
she had been told, risked all their spare pence on horse racing, and the
others, those who could afford it, went to Monte Carlo, or stayed at home
and played bridge!
After all, where was the difference? But, of course, Bill Chester, with
his tiresome, old-fashioned views of life, would think there was a great
difference; he would certainly disapprove of the way she was now spending
her money....
Something told her, and the thought was not wholly unpleasing to her,
that Bill Chester and the Comte de Virieu would not get on well together.
She wondered if Count Paul had ever been jealous--if he were capable of
jealousy? It would be rather interesting to see if anything or anyone
could make him so!
And then her mind travelled on, far, far away, to a picture with which
she had been familiar from her girlhood, for it hung in the drawing-room
of one of her father's friends at Market Dalling. It was called "The
Gambler's Wife.
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