“Discard one.” The dealer removed the next card and, holding it so that neither he nor the players could see its face, added it to the face-down pile. “What is your pleasure, sir and madame?”
“Throw one.”
“Discard one.”
“We’ll take this one,” and there were four thousand credits in the box.
Throw one take one, and there were eight thousand.
The eight became sixteen; then thirty-two; and the dealer lost his urbanity completely. He looked just plain ugly.
“Maybe that’s enough for now,” Joan suggested. “After all, we don’t want to take all the man’s money.”
“Tightwad’s trick, huh? Quit while yer ahead?” the dealer sneered. “Why’n’cha let ’er ride just once more?”
“If you insist, we will,” Cloud said, “but I’m warning you it’ll cost you thirty two more M’s.”
“That’s what you think, Buster—I think different. Call your play!”