Once more the crowd excitedly followed her luck, staring at her with grateful pleasure, with fascinated interest, as she brought them temporary wealth.
The more she won, the more she made other people win, the more miserable Sylvia felt, and as she saw Count Paul's heap of notes and gold diminishing, she grew unutterably wretched.

Eight hundred pounds?
What an enormous lot of money to risk in an evening! Then there came a change.

For a few turns of the game luck deserted her, and Sylvia breathed more freely.

She glanced up into Count Paul's impassive face.

He looked worn and tired, as well he might be after his long journey from Brittany.
Then once more magic fortune came back.