With a feeling akin to revolt she watched those who had staked on number one grab up their winnings, while the croupier raked in the Englishman’s solitary bid for fortune.
“You see?” The bitter grey eyes mocked her. “Quite symbolical, wasn’t it?”
With a slight bow he moved away from the table and passed quickly out of the room.
Ann felt disinclined to play any further. She watched Tony win, then lose once, then win again several times in succession. He was flushed and there was a look of triumph on his face.
“Haven’t you finished yet, Tony?” she asked at last “I’m ready to go home when you are.”
“Go home? When I’m winning?” he expostulated. “Rather not!” Then, catching sight of her face, “Hello! You look tired. Are you, Ann?”
She nodded.
“Yes, I think I am a little.”
Tony held a five-franc note in his hand, ready for staking. Without the least sign of disappointment he stuffed it back into his pocket.
“Then we’ll go home,” he said. And somewhat to the amazement of the people nearest him, who had been watching his phenomenal run of luck, he made a way for Ann through the crowd and followed her out of the room.