Austin Ambrose shook his head.
"He was always very wild," he said in an undertone, without removing his eyes from Blair's cards.
"Wild! Yes; but not like this. What's come to him?—what's happened to him? He's like a man half off his head, poor old chap. Look how he's playing now! Why, a child could beat him. And he plays so confounded high. I've heard there's a lot of money in the family; but, hang it all, a gold mine couldn't stand it!"
Austin Ambrose heaved a deep sigh.
"I quite understand your feelings, my dear marquis; but what am I to do? If you think my poor friend is a man to be coaxed or managed, well, try it."
The marquis swore under his breath.
"I will!" he said, and laying his hand on Blair's shoulder, he said, in an undertone: "Old fellow, the luck is dead against you to-night; throw the cards up and come away."
Blair turned as a man might turn from a dream, and looked up at him.
"Oh, is it you, Aldy? I beg your pardon. Want to go? All right, just wait till I have had another hand. The luck is against me, as you say, but what does it matter?" and he smiled. "The next best thing to winning is losing, you know."
"You see!" said Austin Ambrose in a low voice. "What is to be done? I have tried everything, but it is of no use," then he bent over Blair, and said: