“Really! What have I said to imply that I should never, in any circumstances, play cards?”
She made an impatient gesture.
“Oh, you are trifling,” she said. “I meant that, after all you’ve said about Sunday, and about these people playing so well, it would be inconsistent on your part to play here to-day.”
“I may be obliged to. One doesn’t like to stand out when everybody else is playing,” said Gerard. And, with an uneasy feeling that he was going to have some hint given him, he drew her out. “I happen to have some money with me. I can’t say I could afford very well to lose all of it, but after all, at poker, and these gambling games, it isn’t always the old hands that win.”
She spoke with vivacity.
“You would be very foolish to expect to win, pitted against men like these two idle Van Santens, who care more for cards than for anything else.”
“Do you mean that you advise me not to?”
“Certainly I do. Just as I should advise any man not to try his rawness against the skill of practiced players at cards or at anything else.”
“Do they always play for such high stakes?” asked Gerard abruptly.
“Of course. They’re rich men, and there’s no excitement for them unless the stakes are high. And I may tell you that, rich as they are, they like winning as much as any poor man could do.”