She was astonished to find how intensely conscious she was of Angus Stuart’s quiet presence by her side. She longed—which was not very grateful of her—for M. Popeau to move away, and leave them alone together. They hadn’t met for two whole days, and she suddenly felt what a long time it had seemed.
The pillared hall or atrium of the Casino was full of a motley crowd of people, and Lily began to take eager notice of the amusing scene before her. Beppo had been quite right—all colours and all types of humanity were represented in the moving mass of men and women now gathered together in this, the splendid palace of the Goddess of Chance.
“I will see to your admission card. Have you anything you desire to leave in the way of a cloak or a parasol?”
She hesitated. “Yes, I think I will leave my parasol,” she said.
Angus Stuart accompanied her to the counter, where a gorgeous-looking flunkey took her parasol and gave her a voucher.
“I feel so excited!” she exclaimed, looking up at her companion.
He said in a low tone, “Have you had——” and then checked himself sharply, for M. Popeau had come up to them.
“Come along!” cried the Frenchman. “This is a great moment in your life!”
He spoke half-seriously, half with a touch of good-natured banter in his voice.
Drawing a deep breath of excited anticipation, the girl passed through into the historic rooms which have seen so many dramas silently enacted—for not once in a thousand days is there anything in the shape of a “scene” in the still, golden-haze atmosphere of the Temple of Chance.