“Yes,” said Mrs. Calderbrook, after they had been introduced, “we’re going on to Mentony; but we thought we must spend a day or two here.... Perfectly beautiful! Mr. Tope tells me you don’t go to the Rooms? How very extraordinary! Of course, we strongly disapprove of the whole thing; but I think every one should go once, if it’s only to see. We’re going in now for the first time. Mr. Tope has promised to be our guide. We shall play just once to say we have done so. You’d better come with us.”
Hugh shook his head smilingly; “I’d rather not, thank you. I’ll wait here till you come out.”
“All right. Shan’t be long.”
Piloted by Mr. Tope the three mounted the carpeted steps, passed the bowing flunkeys, and disappeared through the swinging glass doors. In half an hour they reappeared. They were quite excited.
“It’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Calderbrook; “Alice put five francs on the twenty-one, that being her age. What do you think! The twenty-one came up. They paid her a hundred and eighty francs. Of course we stopped at once. It doesn’t do to abuse one’s luck. I really believe we are lucky. We’re going again to-night. Father will try this time,—won’t you, Father?”
Mr. Calderbrook said he would in his weak, refined voice. Alice was shyly radiant. Hugh wished them further good fortune and they returned to their hotel, eagerly talking of the play.
3.
Hugh remained a while longer. He was watching the girl of his pension. Her face was pinched and peaked, her eyes strangely haunting in their pathos. She was so thin that he could see the outline of her sharp shoulder blades under her shabby jacket. Her bright hair was braided and coiled away under a hat of black crepe.
“Poor little devil,” Hugh thought; “she looks up against it.”
Presently she took a note-book with black glazed covers from her bag, and began to turn its pages abstractedly. Hugh saw that it was filled with columns of figures.