"
"Winning! We don't win." The lips of the actress drew back showing her
white teeth. "No woman ever won who tried to play a straight fighting game
for herself."
Her voice grew tense and the lines upon her forehead reappeared.
"Woman can't stand alone," she went on, "she is a sentimental fool. She
reaches out her hand to some man and that in the end beats her. Why, even
when she plays the game as I played it against the colonel some rat of a
man like Frank Robson, for whom she has given up everything worth while to
a woman, sells her out."
Sam looked at her hand, covered with rings, lying on the table.
"Let's not misunderstand each other," he said quietly, "do not blame Frank
for this. I never knew him. I just imagined him."
A puzzled look came into the woman's eyes and a flush rose in her cheeks.
"You grafter!" she sneered.
Sam called to a passing waiter and ordered a fresh bottle of wine.
"What's the use being sore?" he asked. "It's simple enough. You staked
against a better mind. Anyway you have the ten thousand, haven't you?"
Luella reached for her purse.
"I don't know," she said, "I'll look. Haven't you decided to steal it back
yet?"
Sam laughed.
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