She nodded.
"I have given up playing," she told him.
He looked at her in some surprise. She drew a little breath and kept her eyes steadily averted.
"You will probably know sometime or other," she continued, "so I will tell you now. I have lost four thousand pounds to Mr. Draconmeyer. I am going back to England to realise my own money, so as to be able to pay him at once."
"You borrowed four thousand pounds from Mr. Draconmeyer?" he repeated incredulously.
"Yes! It was very foolish, I know, and I have lost every penny of it. I am not the first woman, I suppose, who has lost her head at Monte Carlo," she added, a little defiantly.
"Does Mr. Draconmeyer know that you are leaving?" he asked.
"Not yet," she answered, after a moment's hesitation. "I had an interview with him yesterday and I realised at once that the money must be paid, and without delay. I realised, too, that it was better I should leave Monte Carlo and break off my association with these people for the present."
In a sense it was a sordid story, yet to Hunterleys her words sounded like music.
"I am very pleased indeed," he said quietly, "that you feel like that. Draconmeyer is not a man to whom I should like my wife to owe money for a moment longer than was absolutely necessary."