Page:The Yellow Book - 13.djvu/341

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By Ella D'Arcy
305

"It's just as well Morris and the rest of that crew should think so, but the truth is, I succeeded to an encumbered estate, the rent-roll of which barely suffices to pay the mortgage interest. Knowles is let furnished, Buckhurst is so dilapidated no one will hire it. I can't sell, because of the entail. I can't work, for I was never given a profession. I can only play cards; and by playing systematically and regulating, as I tell you, my whole life to that end, I manage to pay my way."

"Twenty thousand dollars in a night," murmured the Other Fellow at Underhill's ear, "would not only pay your way but pave it too. Not?"

"Oh, dry up!" advised the young man. "You're such a damned literal chap! Can't you see he's speaking metaphorically?"

"So now, you understand the tragedy of the cold mutton," Garve concluded smiling. They walked on a bit in silence, until Garve resumed in exactly the same even, melodious voice in which he had last spoken, "You thought I cheated to-night, didn't you?"

Underhill was inexpressibly shocked and pained by this sudden, naked confrontation with his thought. Besides, he thought it no longer. Garve's explanations had convinced him of Garve's probity; he was subjugated by Garve's charm.

"No, no, no! Don't say such things!" he protested. "A thousand times no!"

"All the same, you thought I cheated," repeated Garve, standing still and looking at him oddly. "And I did cheat! .... I lost only when it suited my purpose to lose. Every time I had forced the cards."

He remained imperturbable, cold, as he said this. It was, perhaps, only the moonlight that made his handsome face look haggard and pale.

The Yellow Book—Vol. XIII.
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