He told himself that this was a "room in a book," and became dreamily
assured that he was a man in a book. Finally he stumbled upon something
almost grotesquely out of place: a large, new, perfectly-appointed
card-table with a sliding top, a smooth, thick, green cover and patent
compartments.
He halted before this incongruity, regarding it with astonishment.
Then a light laugh rippled behind him, and he turned to find Madame de
Vaurigard seated in a big red Venetian chair by the fire.
She wore a black lace dress, almost severe in fashion, which gracefully
emphasized her slenderness; and she sat with her knees crossed, the
firelight twinkling on the beads of her slipper, on her silken instep,
and flashing again from the rings upon the slender fingers she had
clasped about her knee.
She had lit a thin, long Russian cigarette.
"You see?" she laughed. "I mus' keep up with the time. I mus' do
somesing to hold my frien's about me. Even the ladies like to play
now--that breedge w'ich is so tiresome--they play, play, play! And
you--you Americans, you refuse to endure us if we do not let you play.
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