"Twenty-four! My age and my ticket number! I meant to stake on it!" Mary cried out aloud in her excitement. "Now it is too late."
Her regret was so keen as to be agonizing. It seemed that a serious misfortune had befallen her. Something in her head was going round with the ball. She felt as if she ought to have won all the money lying there on the table, as if she had a right to it.
People who had won and were having their winnings paid to them were too busy to notice what went on behind their backs; but some of those who had lost and had nothing to do till the time to stake again, tittered faintly and craned their heads round to look at the girl who was almost crying because she had not staked on twenty-four, her age. But Mary did not realize that she was the object of any one's attention, for the statuelike woman in black was shrilly insisting that she had had the maximum, nine louis, on the number 24. "En plein, I tell you, en plein!"
"But no, excuse me, Madame, you had money on black and the second dozen, on pair, and on the carré of twenty-four; but nothing on the number itself. Your maximum was on twenty-six," the croupier explained firmly.
"I tell you it was on twenty-four!" shrieked the actress.
"Madame is mistaken. You staked in so many different places, it is impossible for you to remember."
"It is still more impossible for you. Do you intend to pay me?"
"But certainly, for everything you won."
"And the maximum on twenty-four?"
"Not that, Madame."