"You're drinking too much."
"Not too much. I'm just tall and hold more. I leave the drinking to the Baroness. See, she can hardly take in her winnings." He laughed gently.
Half asleep, losing, gaining, she leaned on the roulette table, jewels sparkling in her hair.
"... Sister of the Polish pope," said Roberto. "Let's have something to eat," he whispered. "Food has been known to help people in my condition. May I bring you some sandwiches?"
"Please. I'm really hungry."
He served sandwiches and entremés from a silver tray that salt air and time had darkened to a pewter finish.
"Now, my dear, I'll get us some coffee. Let's sit here."
"Twenty-four," Siquiros called.
"Mine, mine!" shouted the Baroness.
"Where did you buy that lovely gown? In Paris?" asked Roberto, bringing the coffee, and sitting down by Lucienne.