She got up, with a nervous, impatient gesture.
How dull, how long, how intolerable had been the last two days spent by her in the company of Bill Chester, varied by that of talkative Madame Wachner and the silent, dour Ami Fritz! Her heart felt very sore.

During that last hour she and Count Paul had spent together in the garden, she had begged him to stay away--to spend the rest of the summer with his sister.

Supposing he took her at her word--supposing he never came back to Lacville at all?
Sylvia tried to tell herself that in that case she would be glad, and that she only wanted her friend to do the best, the wisest thing for himself.
Such were her thoughts--her painful thoughts--as she walked across from the restaurant to the entrance of the Casino.

Two whole days had gone by since she had been there last, and oh! how long each hour of those days had seemed! The two oddly-assorted couples passed through into the hall, and so up to the closely-guarded doors of the Club.
The Baccarat Room was very full, fuller than usual, for several parties of merry, rather boisterous young men had come out from Paris to spend the evening.
She heard the words that were now so familiar, solemnly shouted out at the further table: "_La Banque est aux encheres.

Qui prend la Banque ?_" There was a pause, and there fell on Sylvia's ears the murmur of two voices--the voice of the official who represented the Casino authorities, and the deep, low voice which had become so dear to her--which thrilled her heart each time she heard it.
Then Count Paul had come back?
He had not followed her advice?
And instead of being sorry, as she ought to have been, she was glad--glad! Not glad to know that he was here in the Casino--Sylvia was sorry for that--but glad that he was once more close to her.