As it was, he crouched in a corner, his hat pulled down over his brow, his swarthy face a darker hue beneath the shadow, losing steadily, only now and then showing a flash of white teeth as he saw his money go.

What mattered loss to him?
He had no more need of money now than Necia had of his love.

He would spend the dollars he had eked and scraped and saved for her as she had spent the treasures of his heart, and now that the one had brought him no return he wished to be rid of the other, for he was shortly to go again in search of his "New Country," where no man needs gold half so much as a clean heart.

It would be a long journey, far to the West and North--a journey that none of his kind had ever fared back from, and he wished to go light, as all good adventurers go.
Runnion annoyed him with his volubility, for the news of his good-fortune had fired the man with a reckless disregard for money, and he turned to gaming as the one natural recourse of his ilk.

As the irony of fate would have it, he won what the Canadian lost, together with the stakes of various others who played for a time with him and then gave up, wagging their heads or swearing softly at the cards.
It was shortly after midnight that Stark came into the place.