He allowed her to take the pack and to spread it in deft lines. When the layout was completed, she clapped her hands.
“There you see—the six on the seven, and you have a space the first thing! Let’s see the next card.”
They began to play, and, leaning against him, she drew her arm over his shoulder, bending forward alertly to watch the shifting of the cards. But the luck which had been favorable suddenly changed, and after a moment, impatiently, he put out his hand and brushed the cards away, saying:
“No use.” He stared blankly at the table and then brought his knuckles up against his teeth with a deep breath. “Wish I could get out—out of this—anywhere!”
“You will soon—in two days.”
“Two days—yes, of course,” he said, nodding. “I must hold on until then.”
The hand which lay on the table opened and closed and opened again in helpless indecision. In all his brooding, the effort seemed directed against some internal danger, some struggle of the soul. She felt this, as she felt the trembling of the balance of fate, and all her reserve vanished before the needs of the man who, on his part, sought nothing from her.
“Mr. Dan,” she said, passing her cool hand over the furrowed brow and bending over him, “Mr. Dan, can’t I help? Won’t you let me?”
“You can’t—no one can,” he said, shaking his head.