"I will bet a sovereign," said he.
"And I'll stay in with you," remarked the dealer, depositing the golden
coin.
"One better," said Lionel.
"And one better," said Miles.
Here the dealer retired, so that these two were left in as before--well,
not as before, for Lionel had five aces in his hand! And now they made
no pretence of keeping to the limit that had been imposed; their bets
were registered on the bit of paper which each had by him; and
pertinaciously did these two gladiators hack and slash at each other.
Lionel was quite reckless. His enemy had taken one card. Very well.
Supposing he had "filled" a flush or a straight, so much the better.
Supposing he also had got fours--that, too, was excellent well; for he
could have nothing higher than four kings. Strictly speaking, there was
only one hand that could beat Lionel's--a straight flush; but then a
straight flush is an uncommonly rare thing; and, besides, the appearance
of five aces in one's hand seems to convey a sense of quite unlimited
power. That five aces are no better than four aces does not strike the
possessor of them; he regards the goodly show--and strives to conceal
his elation.
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