Almost savagely, Vanno grasped the back of the chair
and flung himself into it, though Madeleine d'Ambre had been on the
point of sitting down. A moment later Hannaford strolled back, having
changed his mind for some reason; but Vanno had already forgotten him.
He remembered only Mary, for she had glanced up for an instant, and
their eyes had met, his imploring, hers startled, then hastily averted.
Hannaford stood shoulder to shoulder with Carleton, who nodded and
spoke. "I wish we could get her to stop! I've tried--came over from the
Sporting Club on purpose, but she won't listen to me."
"We can't do anything with her at the table," said Hannaford.
"Norwood told me she was losing a lot, and I ran across from the
Sporting Club," Dick went on. "No good, I suppose, as you say. One can't
keep whispering a stream of good advice down the back of people's necks.
Only a very special kind of an ass tries that twice: but still, I did
hope----"
"Yes, there's that 'but still' feeling, isn't there?" Hannaford smiled
his tired smile, that never brightened. "I was going to cut it, because
she was getting on my nerves a bit. But I've come back to hang around,
as you're doing, and try the effect of will power, though I'm afraid it
won't work."
"It seems a vile table," Dick remarked.
"It's got a grudge against Miss Grant apparently, but it was all right
for me till I began to get nervy, watching her lose."
"You won?"
"Yes, and felt a beast--as if I were taking her money.
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