The tan and the green baize are covered with ghosts that want to help you, if you'll let them." Sibley's mouth opened in amazement.

Crozier was speaking with the look of the man who hypnotises himself, who "sees things," who dreams as only the gambler and the plunger on the turf do dream, not even excepting the latter-day Irish poets.
"Say, I was right what I said to Deely--I was right," remarked Sibley almost huskily, for it seemed to him as though he had found a long-lost brother.

No man except one who had staked all he had again and again could have looked or spoken like that.
Crozier looked at the other thoughtfully for a moment, then he said: "I don't know what you said to Deely, but I do know that I'm going to the Logan Trial in spite of the M'Mahon mob.

I don't feel about it as you do.

I've got a different feeling, Sibley.