Zina. Please don’t make me sing, master, today. (Falls on face sobbing.)
Brightly (interrupting). Ah, you won’t, hey? Then I will give you something to sulk for. (Advances towards her, and D’Arneaux steps between. They look each other in the face a moment. Brightly goes to seat again.) The young one ain’t well today.
Myers. Well, three thousand.
Brightly. (Catching a look from D’Arneaux.) I’ll tell ye tomorrow.
Myers. I’ll bet ye five hundred on this hand without lookin’. (D’A. raises Zina up to knees. She clings to D’A.’s hands—face hid.)
Brightly. All right. My chance is as good as your’n, then. Show!
Myers (as both show). Got ye! This is a matter of pure luck, and may as well be done blindfolded. Do you know I lost fifteen thousand dollars once in Havana at one sitting?
Brightly. Enough to make me rich! (Rests face on hands.)
Myers. I was teetotally cleaned out. I put up my breastpin and won. When I got up, I was five thousand dollars better off than I was when I commenced. Try it again?
Brightly. I have just about enough left to get me home again. (Turns away.)