He had thrown in four aces!
A chorus of derision followed. There was laughter. There were epithets of undisguised contempt for the play that could yield four aces so tamely. Even Claire smiled her contempt at her late opponent while she thrust her own cards deeply into the remainder of the pack. There was only the straight flush to have beaten that hand, and the man had parted with something like eight thousand dollars.
The comments of the onlookers remained unheeded. The man’s dead eyes were on the woman opposite him. He seemed oblivious to all but the smiling contempt in her eyes.
“Say, ain’t you satisfied?” he demanded, a curious note underlying the harshness of his tone.
Claire laughed derisively.
“Sure I am,” she cried. “I’m always satisfied with easy money. Guess I’m ready to take all that’s coming, even from a feller who’s fool enough to throw in four aces. The deal’s with you, Jubilee.”
She turned to her grinning neighbour, who was shuffling the cards, but the man at the end of the table was not yet done with.
“Say,” he cried again, and his tone matched the frigidity of his soulless eyes. “Ain’t ther’ no change comin’? I handed you better than eight thousand dollars. Guess you didn’t win that pool. I passed it you. You didn’t bluff me a thing. Eight thousand couldn’t scare a feller with my wad. No, sir. You’re queen of this layout, and I don’t seem to yearn for any lesser dame. You got eight thousand a present. An’ ther’s fi’ thousand more fer a dance. Guess that’s what you’re here for, ain’t it? Here’s the stuff. I’m out to buy. It’s right up to you. Well?”