retired gracefully, each of the four a thousand francs
richer and a thousand times happier than she had been five minutes
before.
"What about supper?" said Hannaford. "Gambling always makes me hungry.
I'm in luck to-night. Won't you three be my guests at Ciro's?"
"You are always in luck nowadays," sighed Madame d'Ambre. A shadow
seemed to pass over the stolid face of the man, but she did not see it.
"Naturally we accept the kind invitation, is it not so, dear
Mademoiselle?"
"I must be at Ciro's anyhow, about midnight," said Carleton, "for
Schuyler asked me to meet him there for a Welsh rabbit after the opera.
But I'll be delighted to go over and sit with you till he comes." He had
the pleasant drawl of a Southerner.
"Oh, you're very, very kind," stammered Mary. "But I"--she hesitated,
and glanced appealingly at Madame d'Ambre--"I think it's rather late,
and I shall have to go home."
"Home?" echoed Hannaford, questioningly.
"My hotel," she explained.
As Madame d'Ambre drew her friend aside for a murmur of advice, the two
men looked at each other, Carleton puzzled, Hannaford with raised
eyebrows. "I think they're both charming," the American remarked in a
low voice. "That little Madame d'Ambre isn't nearly as pretty as Miss
Grant, but she's fetching, and looks a bit down on her luck, as if she'd
had trouble."
"Perhaps she has," said Hannaford.
"But, dear Mademoiselle," Madeleine was pleading at a little distance,
"why won't you go to supper? Do! It would be so pleasant.
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