"How good you are!" Eve exclaimed. "You're a real friend, the only one we've got. The rest are sharks, or cats. It—it won't run you down low to let us have a thousand?" She fixed her eyes sharply on Mary, under the shadow of her falling hair, which she brushed as if mechanically.
"Oh no, I'm sure I can manage it very well."
"And keep enough to go on playing with?"
"Yes. I don't quite know how much I have in the bank. I've given away a good deal here and there, I suppose, besides what I lost—and this now. But there's sure to be plenty."
"Suppose, though, you go on losing? Of course I hope you won't. But there's that to think of. Still, I presume you needn't worry if the Casino should get back every penny they've given you? I hope you have ever and ever so much of your own. I think I heard you telling the Wardropp girl—wretched little beast!—that you had a big legacy left you?"
"I believe I did tell her so, in the train," said Mary. "I don't remember speaking of it since."
"I couldn't help overhearing what you said then. You were both talking at the top of your voices. Well, I'm glad for you. If you're wise, you'll put yourself out of temptation's way, and won't keep much beyond your winnings where you can lay hands on it."
"I came here with very little," Mary confessed. "You see, I'd meant to go on to Italy."
"And you were so lucky at first, that you've lived on your winnings, and have never had to write a cheque on your own bank in England or anywhere?"
"Not one!" laughed Mary. "Since I came into my money, I haven't drawn half a dozen cheques—except in the cheque-book I got at Smith's, after Mr. Shuyler and Mr. Carleton advised me to keep my winnings there."