"Very well,—I hope you like the cards I have given you." But there was no ice in the red flush on Carlisle's sanguine face,
"Give me four more," cried the Missourian, flinging down his own cards with hands that trembled.
"Quite right, sir, you shall have them. But how you tremble! I wouldn't have so poor a nerve as yours for all the money in the world, my dear Senator. You act as though there were four hundred acres of niggers at stake, as Mr. Jones would say!"
"Go on! You don't know what there is at stake."
"So, now. You have your four cards. For myself—though you are so excited you wouldn't notice it if I did not call your attention to it—I take but three. You are an infant, man. See that you be not delivered into the hands of the enemy."
They looked now each into his renewed hand of five cards. Dunwody swept a stack of money toward the center of the table. "A thousand dollars against one look from her eye!"
"My dear sir," rejoined the other calmly, "you are raised to the extent of two glances—one from each eye."
"Another thousand for the touch of her glove."
"I come back. You shall have a pair."
"A thousand more to hear the sound of her step—another thousand for one smile!"