I meant to fight till the end.
I never thought seriously of giving it up."

"Until after I came?" Peter broke in.

"Oh, I was happier for a while after you came. You took my mind off
myself."

"And turned it to _my_self, or, rather, to the world I lived in. I'm
glad, yes, I'm glad, I was in time, and yet--oh, Mary, you _won't_ go to
Monte Carlo, will you?"

Mary stopped short in her walk, and turned to face Peter.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, sharply. "What can make you think of
Monte Carlo?"

"Only, you seemed so interested in hearing me tell about staying with
father at Stellamare, my cousin's house. You asked me such a lot of
questions about it and about the Casino, more than about any other
place, even Rome. And you looked excited when I told you. Your cheeks
grew red. I noticed then, but it didn't matter, because you were going
to live here always, and be a nun. Now----"

"Now what does it matter?" the novice asked, almost defiantly. "Why
should it occur to me to go to Monte Carlo?"

"Only because you were interested, and perhaps I may have made the
Riviera seem even more beautiful and amusing than it really is. And
besides--if it should be true, what your father was afraid of----"

"What?"

"That you inherit his love of gambling. Oh, I couldn't bear it, darling,
to think I had sent you to Monte Carlo."

"He didn't know enough about me to know whether I inherited anything
from him or not. I hardly understand what gambling means, except what
you've told me. It's only a word like a bird of ill omen. And what you
said about the play at the Casino didn't interest me as other things
did. It didn't sound attractive at all."

"It's different when you're there," Peter said.

"I don't think it would be for me. I'm almost sure I'm not like that--if
I can be sure of anything about myself. Perhaps I can't! But you
described the place as if it were a sort of paradise--and all the
Riviera. You said you would go back in the spring with your father. You
didn't seem to think it wicked and dangerous for yourself."

"Monte Carlo isn't any more wicked than other places, and it's dangerous
only for born gamblers," Peter argued. "I'm not one. Neither is my
father, except in Wall Street. He plays a little for fun, that's all.
And my cousin Jim Schuyler never goes near the Casino except for a
concert or the opera. But _you_--all alone there--you who know no more
of life than a baby! It doesn't bear thinking of."