"Ah, it is hard with half-a-sovereign to break the bank. But see, have you nothing—nothing? For I feel as if my luck were going to leave me."
"Nothing," I answered, "nothing in the world."
"Poor boy!"
Her voice was tender and sympathetic, but in her eyes there glanced not the faintest spark of mercy. I sat for a moment stunned and helpless, and then she resumed.
"Can I lend to you?"
"No, for I have no chance of repaying. This was my all, and it has gone. I have not one penny left in the world."
"Poor boy!"
"I thank you. I could not expect you to pity me, but—"
"Ah, but you are wrong. I pity you: I pity you all. Fools, fools, I call you all, and yet I make my living out of you. So you cannot play," she added, as she set the game going once again. "What will you do?"
"Go, first of all."