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“
They
always
had
as
much
as
I
had
,
”
he
thought
.
So
off
he
went
to
a
poker
room
in
the
neighbourhood
,
feeling
much
as
he
had
in
the
old
days
.
In
this
period
of
self
-
forgetfulness
,
aroused
first
by
the
shock
of
argument
and
perfected
by
a
dinner
in
the
hotel
,
with
cocktails
and
cigars
,
he
was
as
nearly
like
the
old
Hurstwood
as
he
would
ever
be
again
.
It
was
not
the
old
Hurstwood
—
only
a
man
arguing
with
a
divided
conscience
and
lured
by
a
phantom
.
This
poker
room
was
much
like
the
other
one
,
only
it
was
a
back
room
in
a
better
drinking
resort
.
Hurstwood
watched
a
while
,
and
then
,
seeing
an
interesting
game
,
joined
in
.
As
before
,
it
went
easy
for
a
while
,
he
winning
a
few
times
and
cheering
up
,
losing
a
few
pots
and
growing
more
interested
and
determined
on
that
account
.
At
last
the
fascinating
game
took
a
strong
hold
on
him
.
He
enjoyed
its
risks
and
ventured
,
on
a
trifling
hand
,
to
bluff
the
company
and
secure
a
fair
stake
.
To
his
self
-
satisfaction
intense
and
strong
,
he
did
it
.
In
the
height
of
this
feeling
he
began
to
think
his
luck
was
with
him
.
No
one
else
had
done
so
well
.
Now
came
another
moderate
hand
,
and
again
he
tried
to
open
the
jack
-
pot
on
it
.
There
were
others
there
who
were
almost
reading
his
heart
,
so
close
was
their
observation
.
“
I
have
three
of
a
kind
,
”
said
one
of
the
players
to
himself
.
“
I
’
ll
just
stay
with
that
fellow
to
the
finish
.
”
The
result
was
that
bidding
began
.
“
I
raise
you
ten
.
”
“
Good
.
”
“
Ten
more
.
”
