The other two were worthless; clearly, he had
taken the one card as a blind.
"That is good enough--take away the money," Lionel said, calmly; and the
younger man, with quite as expressionless a face, raked over the pile of
gold, bank-notes, and counters.
There was a general sense of relief; that strain had been too intense.
"Very magnificent, you know," said the player who was next to Lionel, as
he placed his ante on the table, "but it isn't poker. I think if you fix
a limit you should stick to it. Have your private bets if you like; but
let us have a limit that allows everybody to see the fun."
"Oh, certainly, I agree to that," Lionel said, at once. "We will keep to
the sovereign limit; and Mr. Miles and I will understand well enough
what we are betting when we happen to play against each other."
Thereafter the game went more quietly, though Lionel was clearly playing
with absolute carelessness; no doubt his companions understood that he
could not hope to retrieve his losses in this moderate play. He seemed
tired, too, and dispirited; frequently he threw up his cards without
drawing--which was unusual with him.
"Have a drink, old man, to wake you up?" his neighbor said to him, about
half-past two.
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