That seemed worse than she had thought, but she said nothing. She found
herself suddenly missing Hannaford, and wishing that his calm face with
its black bandage might appear among all these faces that meant nothing
to her. If he were here he would stand by them, or perhaps go alone with
Lord Dauntrey in order to spare her. He had always tried to save her
from everything disagreeable, from the very beginning of their
friendship until its end.
The mellow golden light in the great gaming room, and the somnolent
musky scent which she had called the "smell of money," seized upon
Mary's imagination with renewed vividness, even as on the first night
when as a stranger she timidly yet eagerly entered the Casino. She felt
again the powerful influence of the place, but in a different way. The
pleasant, kindly animal to which she had likened the Casino was now a
mighty monster, who must be approached with caution and even fear, whose
gentle, feline purring was the purr of a tiger sitting with claws in
sheath. How the great golden beast could strike and tear sometimes, the
desperate face of her companion told. Mary feared for his sake that
people might read the lines of misery, and whisper that here was one of
Monte Carlo's wrecks.
She had often noticed in the gilded Salle Schmidt those four long
mirrors in the corners, which could only be known as doors when some
inspector or other functionary pressed his foot on a trigger level with
the floor in front of one of them.
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