The dice skittered and rolled to a seven. Loud cheers. Arthur was forty dollars richer. They played for nearly an hour. Arthur was instructed to bet lightly unless Lucky was throwing. He was six hundred dollars ahead when the food and drink and the long day began to get to him. "Time to turn in," he told Penn.
"Where you staying?"
"Harrah's."
"How about coffee in the morning?" They arranged to meet in the café at ten.
"Here," Arthur handed Penn his chips. "A stake."
"Right on. What do you say, Lucky, want to look around a little?" Lucky shrugged agreeably and Penn put his arm around her shoulders. "You get half the winnings in the morning," he said to Arthur.
"No need," Arthur said. "It's on the house."
"No, no. See you at ten." He and Lucky walked away. Penn looked back once and smiled. Same old Penn.
The night air was clear and crisp. People on the sidewalks seemed to be enjoying themselves. Arthur went to his room and fell asleep immediately, but he did not sleep well. He kept waking and seeing Penn's smile—amused, helpless, oddly gallant. He had a premonition that he might not see him again.
In the morning, Arthur waited an hour, but Penn didn't show up. He walked back to Harrah's and checked out. The desk clerk gave him five casino silver dollars—"Our way of saying thank you, Sir."