Unlike his short, stout wife, this tall, thin man seemed quite uninterested in the people about him, and Sylvia could see his lips moving, his brows frowning, as if he were absorbed in some intricate and difficult calculation.
The couple looked different from the people about them; in a word, they did not look French.
"The man--their name is Wachner--only plays on a system," whispered Anna.
"He is in fact what I call a System Maniac.

That is why he keeps noting down the turns in his little book.

That sort of gambler ought never to leave Monte Carlo.

It is only at Monte Carlo--that is to say, at Roulette--that such a man ever gets a real chance of winning anything.
I should have expected them to belong to the Club, and not to trouble over this kind of play!" Even as she spoke, Anna slightly inclined her head, and the woman at whom they were both looking smiled broadly, showing her strong white teeth as she did so; and then, as her eyes travelled from Anna Wolsky to Anna's companion, they became intent and questioning.
Madame Wachner, in spite of her unwieldy form, and common, showy clothes, was fond of beautiful things, and especially fond of jewels.

She was wondering whether the pearls worn by the lovely young Englishwoman standing opposite were real or sham.
The two friends did not stay very long in the Casino on that first evening.