At each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty--for the "cards and refreshments." It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and women.
The gay parties of callers on Mrs.LeMar were nothing other than gamblers.

The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel gratings, of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had passed away with "reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of sporting life which had gradually taken its place.
Constance had been looking about curiously in the meantime.

On a table she saw copies of the newspapers which published full accounts of the races, something that looked like a racing sheet, and a telephone conveniently located near writing materials.

It was a poolroom, too, then, in the daytime, she reasoned.
Surely, in the next room, when the light was on, she saw what looked like a miniature roulette wheel, not one of the elaborate affairs of bright metal and ebony, but one of those that can almost be packed into a suitcase and carried about easily.
That was the secret of the flashily dressed men and women who called on Bella LeMar.

They were risking everything, perhaps even honor itself, on a turn of a wheel, the fall of a card, a guess on a horse.
Why had Bella LeMar invited her here?
she asked herself.
At first Constance was a little bit afraid that she might have plunged into too deep water.