Ann looked round her with interested eyes while Tony gave his order to a waitress. She thoroughly enjoyed an evening at the Kursaal. Until she had joined Lady Susan at Villa Mon Rêve, she had never been out of England—for, though Archibald Lovell had been fond of wandering on the Continent himself, no suggestion had ever emanated from him that his daughter might like to wander with him—and the essentially un-English atmosphere of the casino still held for her the attraction of novelty. It was all so gay, so full of light and movement, and of that peculiar charm of the open air which makes an irresistible appeal to English people, condemned as they are by the exigencies of climate to take their pleasures betwixt four walls throughout the greater portion of the year.
“It interests me frightfully, watching people,” observed Ann. “Quite a lot of the people here are really enjoying the music—and quite a lot are simply marking time till the tables are open and they can go and play boule.”
Tony nodded.
“The sheep and the goats,” he replied. “Count me among the latter. But boule’s a rotten poor game,” discontentedly. “Give me roulette—every time. One has the chance to win something worth while at that.”
“And a chance to lose equally as much,” retorted Ann.
She flushed a little. This was the first occasion on which Tony had referred to the subject of gambling since the day they had gone up to the Dents de Loup together. She wondered if he had spoken deliberately, intending to remind her of the fact that, since she had refused to marry him, he was perfectly free to gamble if he chose. Yet he had spoken so casually, apparently quite without arrière pensée that it almost appeared as though the memory of that day upon the mountain had been wiped out of his mind. He seemed unconscious of any gêne in the situation. During Lady Susan’s brief illness he had been in and out of the villa exactly as usual, bringing flowers, running errands, cheering them all up with his infectious good humour—spontaneously willing to do anything and everything that might help to tide over a difficult time.
Now and again there flashed into Ann’s mind the recollection of those few moments on the moonlit hill-side, when Tony’s gravely steadfast face and proffered vow had made her think of him as some young knight of old, and she would ask herself whether she had done right or wrong in refusing him. But, for the most part, the episode seemed to her to be invested with a curious sense of unreality, an impression which was fostered by the apparently unforced naturalness of Tony’s demeanour. And now she felt rather as though he were asserting his independence, his freedom to gamble.
“Lose?” He picked up her words. “You’ve got to be prepared to lose—at everything. The whole of life’s a bit of a gamble, don’t you think?”
“No,” she answered steadily. “I don’t. Life’s what you make it.”
The soft, slate-coloured eyes regarded her oddly.