He raised his head and looked at her with haggard eyes.
"What does it matter?" she went on. "Why mind if he did take the thing tragically and blew out his few brains? I don't pity losing players; and his money is better in our hands than in his. He would have wasted it in drinking and smoking, whilst we will do a thousand lovely things with it, each one nicer than the last."
Roger walked about the room with his head bent on his breast, his eyes half closed and filled with tears. "You would have been sorry for him if you had seen him."
"Don't you know," said Gabrielle to him, "that people who do not know how romantically sensitive you are might imagine you had been cheating?"
"And if it were the truth?" he cried in hollow tones, stopping before her.
"Bah!" she answered, smiling; "you are not clever enough to cheat at play."
"Yes, I cheated, Gabrielle; I cheated—wretch that I am!"
She understood from his agitation of mind that he spoke but too truly. She sat down on a couch and remained speechless for some time.
"I would much rather you had killed ten men than cheated at cards," she said at length in a very troubled voice.
There was a deathlike silence for half an hour. They both sat on the same sofa, and never looked at each other once. Roger got up first and wished her good night in a calm voice.