“Where are ye goin’?” Norah asked.
“To look at the card-players.”
“Don’t, Dermod!”
“Why?”
“Maybe ye’ll learn to play.”
“And if I do?” There was a note of defiance in the boy’s voice, and it was evident that Norah’s remarks had displeased him.
“Well, do as you like,” said the girl in an injured tone. “But mind that it’s a sin to play cards.”
Dermod stretched himself, laughed and approached the table. Norah felt a sudden fear overcome her: she wanted him back, and she was angry with the cards—little squares of cardboard—that could lure Dermod away from her side.
He bent over the shoulder of Micky’s Jim, who was smoking and shouting loudly. All the players, with the exception of Ginger Dubbin, were very excited: Ginger hummed tunes with equal gusto whether winning or losing. Most of the players used pence, but a few pieces of silver glittered on the table, and Micky’s Jim had changed a sovereign. Dermod had never gambled, although he had often played cards before; then the stakes were merely buttons, that was not gambling; no one feels very vexed at having lost a button. Something thrilled Dermod through as he looked at the coins on the board; the two pieces of silver attracted him strongly. He had one hand deep in his trousers’ pocket closing tightly over the money in his possession. How exciting it would be to put something on that card; he was certain that it would win! Dubbin turned up the card which Dermod’s imagination pictured to be a good one, and showed an ace, the winning card. If only he had staked a penny on it, Dermod thought! He sat down beside Micky’s Jim and gazed across the board.
“Another cut—for me,” he said, and his voice was a trifle husky. “I’m going to play.”