winnings--yes,
she won a lot of money the night she took the bank. But, remember that
she 'as 'ad plenty of time yesterday to lose it all again--ah, yes!"

"But she meant to give up play till Monday," said Sylvia, eagerly. "I
feel sure she never went inside the Casino yesterday."

"Oh, but she did. My 'usband saw her there."

"At what time?" asked Sylvia, eagerly.

"Let me see--"

"Of course, it must have been early, as you were back waiting for her
late in the afternoon."

"Yes, it must have been early. And once in the Casino!--well, dear
friend, you know as well as I do that with Madame Wolsky the money flies!
Still, let us suppose she did not lose 'er money yesterday. In that case
surely Madame Wolsky would 'ave done well to leave Lacville with 'er
gains in 'er pocket-book."

Madame Wachner was leaning back in the car, a ruminating smile on her
broad, good-tempered face.

She was thoroughly enjoying the rush through the air. It was very hot,
and she disliked walking. Her morose husband very seldom allowed her to
take a cab. He generally forced her to walk to the Casino and back.

Something of a philosopher was Madame Wachner, always accepting with
eager, out-stretched hands that with which the gods provided her.

And all at once pretty Sylvia Bailey, though unobservant as happy,
prosperous youth so often is, conceived the impression that her companion
did not at all wish to discuss Anna's sudden departure. Madame Wachner
had evidently been very much annoyed by Anna's lack of civility, and
surely the least Anna could have done would have been to send a message
saying that it was impossible for her to come to supper at the Chalet des
Muguets!

"I am quite sure Anna did not mean to be rude, dear Madame Wachner," said
Sylvia, earnestly. "You know she may have sent you a letter or a message
which miscarried. They are rather careless people at the Pension
Malfait."

"Yes, of course, that is always possible," said the other rather coldly.

And then, as they came within sight of the Pension Malfait, Madame
Wachner suddenly placed her large, powerful, bare hand on Sylvia's small
gloved one.

"Look 'ere, my dear," she said, familiarly, "do not worry about Madame
Wolsky. Believe me, she is not worth it."

Sylvia looked at her amazed, and then Madame Wachner broke into French:
"She thought of nothing but play--that is the truth! Play, play, play!
Other times she was half asleep!"

She waited a moment, then