'
'It's that! I've lost my money--I forgot. And I shall have to confess it
to my duke, though he warned me. Old men hold their fingers up--so! One
finger: and you never forget the sight of it, never. It's a round finger,
like the handle of a jug, and won't point at you when they're lecturing,
and the skin's like an old coat on gaffer's shoulders--or, Chloe! just
like, when you look at the nail, a rumpled counterpane up to the face of
a corpse. I declare, it's just like! I feel as if I didn't a bit mind
talking of corpses tonight. And my money's gone, and I don't much mind.
I'm a wild girl again, handsomer than when that----he is a dear, kind,
good old nobleman, with his funny old finger: "Susan! Susan!" I'm no
worse than others. Everybody plays here; everybody superior. Why, you
have played, Chloe.'
'Never!'
'I've heard you say you played once, and a bigger stake it was, you said,
than anybody ever did play.'
'Not money.'
'What then?'
'My life.'
'Goodness--yes! I understand. I understand everything to-night-men too.
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