Mr. C. Well, look here, I’m going to put on a five-franc piece this time—­so be careful what you advise.

Miss D. Oh, I really couldn’t undertake such a responsibility.

Mr. C. I shall follow this man then, and back five. (He does; the horses spin round, and the race is won by a horse with a tricoloured flag labelled No. 5.) There, I’ve done it without you, you see. (The Croupier pushes a heap of ivory counters towards him, which he takes up with trembling hands.) I say, I scooped in thirty-five francs over that!  Not bad, is it?  I’m glad I waited!

Miss D. Yes, it’s better fun than dancing, isn’t it?

Mr. C. Oh, lots—­at least I didn’t mean that quite—­

Miss D. Didn’t you? I did.  What are you going to back next?

Mr. C. Well, I must just have one more turn, and then we’ll go and get that dance over.  I’m going to plunge this time. (He spreads his counters about the board.) There, I’ve put five francs on each colour and ten each on 8 and 9.  You see, by hedging like that, you’re bound to pull off something!

Miss D. (as the horses spin round).  All the yellow flags are out of it.

Mr. C. Doesn’t matter, 9’s red, and he’s going first-rate—­nothing to beat him!

Miss D. Unless it’s 5, and then you lose. (No. 5 wins again.) How unfortunate for you. 5 generally does win twice running, somehow.

Mr. C. (with reproach).  If you had thought of that a little sooner, I shouldn’t have lost twenty francs! (A player rises, and Mr. C. secures the vacant chair.) More comfortable sitting down.  I must get that back before I go.  I’ve got about twenty francs ’left, I’ll put five on yellow, and ten on 9. (He does. Croupier. “Deux, pair, et rouge!”) Only five left!  I’ll back yellow again, as red won last. (He does. Croupier. “Quatre, pair, et rouge!” He turns to Miss D. for sympathy.) I say, did you ever see such beastly bad—? A Frenchman (behind him).  Plait-il? Mr. C. (confused).  Oh, rien.  I wasn’t speaking to you, M’soo. (To himself.) Where on earth has that girl got to?  She might have waited!  She’s gone back to the balcony! (He goes out in pursuit of her.) Oh, I say, Miss—­er—­DAINTREE, if you’re ready for that “Pas de Quatre,” I am.  Hope I haven’t kept you waiting.

Miss D. (sweetly).  Not’ in the very least.  Are you sure you’ve quite finished playing?

Mr. C. As I ’ye lost all I’d won and a lot on the top of that, I should rather think I had finished playing.

Miss D. So has the Orchestra—­quite a coincidence, isn’t it?  You were so absorbed, you see!—­No, I won’t keep you out here, thanks; my sister will take care of me.