He had very good luck that night, and his winning made her very savage.
As he retired, rolling his gold pieces into his pocket and sucking his
barley-sugar, she glared after him with angry eyes; and went home, and
scolded everybody, and had no sleep. I could hear her scolding. Our
apartments in the Tissisch House overlooked Lady Kicklebury's suite of
rooms: the great windows were open in the autumn. Yes; I could hear her
scolding, and see some other people sitting whispering in the embrasure,
or looking out on the harvest moon.

The next evening, Lady Kicklebury shirked away from the concert; and I
saw her in the play-room again, going round and round the table; and,
lying in ambush behind the Journal des Debats, I marked how, after
looking stealthily round, my lady whipped a piece of money under the
croupier's elbow, and (there having been no coin there previously) I saw
a florin on the Zero.

She lost that, and walked away. Then she came back and put down two
florins on a number, and lost again, and became very red and angry; then
she retreated, and came back a third time, and a seat being vacated by a
player, Lady Kicklebury sat down at the verdant board. Ah me! She had
a pretty good evening, and carried off a little money again that night.
The next day was Sunday: she gave two florins at the collection at
church, to Fanny's surprise at mamma's liberality. On this night of
course there was no play. Her ladyship wrote letters, and read a sermon.

But the next night she was back at the table; and won very plentifully,
until the little Russian sprite made his appearance, when it seemed that
her luck changed. She began to bet upon him, and the young Calmuck lost
too. Her ladyship's temper went along with her money: first she backed
the Calmuck, and then she played against him. When she played against
him, his luck turned; and he began straightway to win. She put on more
and more money as she lost: her winnings went: gold came out of secret
pockets. She had but a florin left at last, and tried it on a number,
and failed. She got up to go away. I watched her, and I watched Mr.
Justice Aeacus, too, who put down a Napoleon when he thought nobody was
looking.

The next day my Lady Kicklebury walked over to the money-changers, where
she changed a couple of circular notes. She was at the table that night
again: and the next night, and the next night, and the next.

By about the fifth day she was like a wild woman. She scold