She had a pleasant voice, this friend of Sylvia's, and she spoke English well, even if she did drop her aitches! "It is getting rather late"-- Chester turned to Sylvia, but he spoke quite pleasantly.
"Yes, we must be going; are you staying on ?" Sylvia was addressing the woman she had just introduced to Chester, but her eyes were wandering towards the gambling table.

Perhaps she had suddenly remembered her five louis.
Chester smiled a little grimly to himself.

He wondered if Sylvia would be surprised to hear that her neighbour, the fair Frenchman to whom she had been talking so familiarly, had "collared" her stakes and her winnings.
"No, indeed! We, too, must be going 'ome.

Come, Fritz, it is getting late." The devoted wife spoke rather crossly.

They all four turned, and slowly walked down the room.
Sylvia instinctively fell behind, keeping step with Monsieur Wachner, while Chester and Madame Wachner walked in front.
The latter had already taken the measure of the quiet, stolid-looking Englishman.