Sir Douglas was much amused. "Well," he said, "you have at least met on common ground!"
Lucy attempted a feeble explanation of the situation in which she had been caught, and then hastily followed the others to the inner temples sacred to Rouge et Noir. Here, at least, there was tragedy enough even at the first glance. Lucy almost forgot the poor lad at the roulette-table, as she watched the piles of gold being raked hither and thither with such terrific speed. One consumptive-looking man, whose face scarcely promised a year of life, was staking wildly, and losing, losing, losing. At lust the piles in front of him were all gone. After a moment's hesitation they were followed by note after note from his pocket-book. Then these too came to an end, but still the relentless wheel went on with that swiftness that is like nothing else on earth. The man made no movement to leave the table. With yellow-white shaking hands he continued to note the results, and while all the rest were staking and winning and losing, he went on aimlessly, feverishly pricking some meaningless design on the ruled sheet before him. And all the time two young girls were gaining, gaining, gaining, and smiling to the men behind them as they raked in the piles of gold.
"Let us go," said Lucy quickly. "I cannot bear this."
"I do think we have had enough of it," Lady Munro agreed. "I am thirsty, Douglas; let us have some coffee."
They strolled out into the bright sunshine.
"Well," said Sir Douglas, "a little disappointing, n'est ce pas?"
"Oh no," said Lucy; "not at all. It is far more real than I thought. The only disappointing thing is that——"
"What?"
She lifted her eyes with an expression of profound gravity.
"All the women trim their own hats."