His gaze concentrated as he knitted his brows, but he said nothing.
She pulled her broad straw hat forward on her auburn hair and readjusted the flounces of her white morning dress, saying while thus engaged, “Yes, indeed; that you gamble—like—like fury!”
“Why, don't you know that's against the law?” he demanded unexpectedly.
“I know that it is very wrong and sinful,” she said solemnly.
“Thanky. I'll put that in my pipe an' smoke it! I'm very wrong and sinful, I am given to understand.”
“Why, I didn't mean you so much,” she faltered, perturbed by this sudden charge of the enemy. “I meant the practice.”
“Oh, I know that I'm a sinner in more ways 'n one; but I didn't know that you were a lady-preacher.”
“You mean that it is none of my business——”
“You ought to be so glad of that,” he retorted.
She maintained a silence that might have suggested a degree of offended pride, and she was truly humiliated that her vaunted hazel eyes had so signally failed to work their wonted charm. As they strolled back together up the steep path to the hotel he seemed either unobservant or uncaring, so impassive were his manners, and she was aware that her demonstration had resulted in giving him information which he could not otherwise have gained. Later, she was nettled to notice that he had utilized it in prosaic fashion, for that night no lights flared late from the casino.