"Just at this moment he is seated at a dining table, talking with a generous host, and a most charming hostess——"
"Are you Ace-In-The-Hole?"
"So designated upon the Yukon," smiled Brent.
Mrs. Reeves leaned suddenly forward: "Oh, why don't you—why don't you brace up? Let liquor alone, and——"
Brent interrupted her with a wave of the hand: "Theoretically a very good suggestion," he smiled, "But, practically—it won't work. Personally, I do not think I drink enough to hurt me any—but we will waive that point—if I do, it is my own fault." He was about to add that he was as good a man as he ever was, but something saved him that sophistry, and when he looked into the face of his hostess his muddy eyes twinkled humorously. "At least," he said, "I have succeeded in eliminating one fault—I have not gambled in quite some time."
"And you never will gamble again?"
Brent laughed: "I didn't say that. However I see very little chance of doing so in the immediate future."
"Promise me that you never will?" she asked, "You might, at least, promise me that, if you won't give up the other."
"What assurance would you have that I would keep my promise?" parried the man.
Quick as a flash came the reply, "The word of a Brent!"