"I know what I'd do."
Plans, castles in the air, a lot of chaff.
Well, she hadn't won it - it being the big prize. But she had won a hundred pounds.
A hundred pounds!
"You spend half of it, dear, and keep the other half for a rainy day.
You never know."
"I'd buy a fur coat, if I was you - a real tip-top one."
"What about a cruise?"
Jane had wavered at the thought of a cruise, but in the end she had remained faithful to her first idea.
A week at Le Pinet.
So many of her ladies had been going to Le Pinet or just come back from Le Pinet.
Jane - her clever fingers patting and manipulating the waves, her tongue uttering mechanically the usual cliches,
"Let me see. How long is it since you had your perm, madam?...
Your hair's such an uncommon color, madam...
What a wonderful summer it has been, hasn't it, madam?" - had thought to herself,
"Why the devil can't I go to Le Pinet?"
Well, now she could!
Clothes presented small difficulty.
Jane, like most London girls employed in smart places, could produce a miraculous effect of fashion for a ridiculously small outlay.
Nails, make-up and hair were beyond reproach.
Jane went to Le Pinet.
Was it possible that now, in her thoughts, ten days at Le Pinet had dwindled down to one incident?
An incident at the roulette table.
Jane allowed herself a certain amount each evening for the pleasures of gambling. That sum she was determined not to exceed.
Contrary to the prevalent superstition, Jane's beginner's luck had been bad.
This was her fourth evening and the last stake of that evening.
So far she had staked prudently on color or on one of the dozens; she had won a little, but lost more. Now she waited, her stake in her hand.
There were two numbers on which nobody had staked. Five and six.
Should she put this, her last stake, on one of those numbers?
If so, which of them?
Five or six? Which did she feel? Five - five was going to turn up.
The ball was spun. Jane stretched out her hand. Six - she'd put it on six.
Just in time. She and another player opposite staked simultaneously. She on six, he on five.
"Rien ne va plus," said the croupier.
The ball clicked, settled.
"Le numero cinq, rouge, impair, manque."
Jane could have cried with vexation.
The croupier swept away the stakes, paid out.
The man opposite said: "Aren't you going to take up your winnings?"
"Mine?"
"Yes."
"But I put on six."
"Indeed you didn't. I put on six and you put on five."
He smiled - a very attractive smile.
White teeth in a very brown face. Blue eyes. Crisp short hair.
Half unbelievingly, Jane picked up her gains.
Was it true?
She felt a little muddled herself.
Perhaps she had put her counters on five. She looked doubtingly at the stranger and he smiled easily back.
"That's right," he said.