Still, gambling seemed to be made particularly fascinating here, and he wanted to be fascinated, wanted it badly.  He was in the mood for the heavy hush of the Rooms, for the closeness, and the rich perfumes, which mingling together seem like the smell of money piled on the green tables; he was in a mood for the dimmed light like dull gold, gold sifted into dust by passing through many hands.

He had got his ticket of admission to the Casino, after arriving yesterday evening; but the Rooms had not pleased him then.  He had not played, and had merely walked through, looking at the people; but now he went to a trente et quarante table, and reaching over the shoulders of the players—­not so many as in the roulette rooms,—­he put a five hundred franc note on couleur.  It won.  He let the money lie, and it won again.  A third time and a fourth he left the notes on, and still luck was with him.  He was in for a good run.

As it happened, nobody else had been playing higher than plaques, the handsome hundred franc gold pieces coined for the Principality of Monaco; and people began to watch the new comer, as they always do one who plays high and is lucky.  On the fifth deal he had won the maximum.  He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a voice close to his shoulder said, “Oh, do take it all off.  I feel it’s going to lose now.  To please me.”

[Illustration:  He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a voice close to his shoulder said, “Oh, do take it all off.”  Page 12.

—­Rosemary.]

He glanced aside, and saw an exceedingly pretty, dark face, which looked vaguely familiar.  With a smile, he took up all the notes, and only just in time.  Couleur lost; inverse won.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” said the owner of the pretty face.  She spoke English with a slight, but bewitching foreign accent; and her eyes shone at him like brown jewels under the tilted brim of a hat made all of pink and crimson roses.  She was rather like a rose, too, a rich, colourful, spicy rose, of the kind which unfolds early.  He knew that he had seen her before, and wondered where.

After all, it was rather nice to be spoken to by someone other than a hotel manager or a waiter; someone who was good to look at, and friendly.  He lost interest in the game, and gained interest in the girl.

“Thank you,” said he.  “You’ve brought me luck.”

“I hope you don’t think I speak always to strangers, like that,” said the girl in the rose hat.  “But you see, I recognized you at once.  I don’t know if you remember me?  No, I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Of course I remember you, only I can’t think where we—­”

“Why, it was in Paris.  You saved my mother’s little dog from being run over one day.  We were both so grateful.  Afterwards we saw you once or twice at tea at the Ritz, and you took off your hat, so you must have remembered then.  Ah me, it’s a long time ago!”