“Do you?” But he knew that it was no time for sentiment, and asked curiously, “Are you so fond of gold? I never saw such a greedy little thing.”
“Remember I’ve walked round over gold for the best part of my life, and have a mine of my own. It fascinates me, but not because I care much about riches—I like the liberty that plenty of money gives; that, to my mind, is all that wealth means. But I loved the feeling of being possessed, of being absolutely reckless. I should have liked to know that my whole fortune depended upon that spinning ball. That would have been worth while! It makes one forget everything—everything!”
He looked at her with half-closed eyes. “You have a secret chapter in your life,” he said. “Some day I shall read it. But I can’t make up my mind whether you are a born gambler or not.”
Ora shrugged her shoulders. “To tell you the truth I shouldn’t care if I never saw a gambling table again. I have had the sensation. That is enough. I will admit I was rather disappointed not to lose that immense stake. Lucky at cards, you know.”
“And you think you are unlucky in love?” Valdobia laughed, but his face was still grim. “How many men have you had in love with you already?”
“That doesn’t count!”
He turned pale. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I don’t believe I am destined to happiness. Don’t you think we know our lines instinctively?”
“I know that you are trying to torment me. You are still excited and angry, so I shall not permit your words, significant as they are, to keep me awake tonight.” He was smiling again, but she saw the anger in his own eyes, and said impulsively:
“I rather like you better than usual tonight. You have made me do something I didn’t want to do, and anger is becoming to you.”