"Yes, I know three people who have it—you, and Ned, and Patient. I cannot name a fourth."
"O Philip! I wish you were the fourth yourself!" sighed Celia.
"So do I, my dear," said Philip, so gravely that Celia looked up into his face to see what he meant. She was perplexed, and scarcely satisfied with what she read there.
"Philip," she asked, dropping her eyes again, "do you play at these card-tables?"
"Never. I believe Patient thinks I do, but she is mistaken. I threw at basset once, and I shall never do it again."
"Did you lose?"
"No, I won."
"Then what made you determine not to do it again?"
"A remark of Leroy, who was standing near. He said, 'No man ever loses at the first throw. I never saw one lose. The Devil is too cunning for that.' I thought that if the habitual frequenters of the basset-table acknowledged that gentleman for their president, the less I saw of it the better."
"I think you were very wise, Philip," said Celia. "Monsieur Leroy! The man who"—she stopped suddenly, wondering whether Philip were acquainted with the facts of which she was thinking.