e to the convent. She knew that Reverend
Mother would not like her to be here, gambling, and it would be too
difficult to explain. There was no use in trying, and she could not bear
the thought of having to read a reproachful letter, when she was so
happy and every one was being so nice to her. It was different about her
Aunt Sara. She knew, if she did not arrive in Florence, Mrs.
Home-Davis's friend would write and say that she had never appeared.
Then perhaps her aunt would follow to see what had become of her. Rather
than run the risk of this dreadful thing happening, Mary telegraphed to
Cromwell Road; "Have changed my mind. Staying on the Riviera. Am well
and safe; will write when decide to leave." And she put no address.
After sending off this message she felt relieved for a few days, as if
she were secure from danger; but sometimes she waked in the night to
worry lest Aunt Sara knew any one on the Riviera who might be instructed
to look up a stray niece. Then she would comfort herself by reflecting
that Mrs. Home-Davis was not at all the sort of woman to know people at
Monte Carlo. She was too dull and uninteresting.

And just now most things seemed dull and uninteresting to Mary which
were not connected with gambling.

Her winnings were not in themselves out of the common, for every season
at Monte Carlo there are at least six or seven players who win great
sums, whose gains are talked about and watched at the tables, and who go
away with from ten to fifty thousand pounds. But it was the combination
of personality with great and persistent good luck which made Mary Grant
remarkable, and her behaviour was puzzling and piquantly mysterious to
those who had no clue to her past. Everybody talked about her: the
croupiers who spun her numbers or put on her stakes, and received her
generous tips: the shopkeepers with whom she spent the money she won,
buying expensive hats and furs, dresses and jewellery: clerks at the
bank where she deposited her winnings: people of all sorts who
frequented the Casino, and even those who were there seldom but heard
what was going on through acquaintances at the many luncheon parties and
"At Homes" which make up the round of life at Monte Carlo. And Mary knew
that she was stared at and talked about, and liked it as a child likes
to be looked at when walking out with a splendid new doll. She had no
idea that any one could say unkind things of her, or that there was
anything in her conduc