A chair was brought for her, and she sat down behind Wethermill, her lips parted, her face joyous with excitement.

But all at once Wethermill's luck deserted him.

He renewed his bank three times, and had lost the greater part of his winnings when he had dealt the cards through.

He took a fourth bank, and rose from that, too, a loser.
"That's enough, Celia," he said.

"Let us go out into the garden; it will be cooler there." "I have taken your good luck away," said the girl remorsefully.
Wethermill put his arm through hers.
"You'll have to take yourself away before you can do that," he answered, and the couple walked together out of Ricardo's hearing.
Ricardo was left to wonder about Celia.