Aileen stacked it up showily, if a little repentantly.

She did not quite approve of this--his plunging--and yet she did; she could not help sympathizing with the plunging spirit.

In a few moments it was on the board--the same combination, the same stacks, only doubled--four thousand all told.
The croupier called, the ball rolled and fell.

Barring three hundred dollars returned, the bank took it all.
"Well, now for a rarebit," exclaimed Lynde, easily, turning to Lord, who stood behind him smiling.

"You haven't a match, have you?
We've had a run of bad luck, that's sure." Lynde was secretly the least bit disgruntled, for if he had won he had intended to take a portion of the winnings and put it in a necklace or some other gewgaw for Aileen.