Will You Love Me in September

Then I understood. It was quite by accident that I found out. After we had had a dinner party the guests settled down to the card tables and I invariably went to bed. Lance had tried, with no success, to persuade me to stay; but he had not been really pressing, and perhaps he thought one gambler in the family was enough.

It was early autumn, I remember. We had had a successful dinner and conversation flowed freely. I had sat at one end of the table and Lance at the other. He was a graceful, witty host, but these people were all players, all eager to get to the business for which they had come, and that was to win money from one another. I knew most of them very well, for Lance often went to their houses to play and they came to us often. Sometimes I accompanied him, but I dreaded the evenings, which were usually spent in rather dreary conversation with those members of the party who, like myself, did not gamble, waiting for the play to end which generally did not until the early hours of the morning. I often made excuses not to attend. Lance was tolerant enough to understand and sometimes aided me in avoiding them. All the same, nothing could prevent his going.

Aimee was often invited. She was popular with this set. "A regular little sport,”

I had heard them say of her. "Not afraid to take a risk." No, I thought, of course she was not if Lance was supplying her with the means to do so and she only paid back when she won.

But perhaps he no longer did this, since she was notoriously lucky. I did not care to ask either him or her.

On this night she was wearing a charming gown, which she had made herself. It had not cost a great deal. I had been with her when she had bought the material in Leadenhall Street. It was a light shade of red-at least the skirt was; the petticoat was cream-colored, and she herself had embroidered it in red silk the color of her dress. It looked enchanting flowing away from the tiny waist, cut down the front to show the embroidered petticoat.

I saw them all to the tables. There were three tables, and four people at each. Aimee was next to the rather aging baron who had sat beside her at dinner and seemed rather taken with her. At their table were another couple of middle age. Lance's friends were of all ages. The only thing they all had in common was a love of gambling.

Lance put his arm about me and kissed me lightly on the back of my neck.

"Slip away if you wish, my dear," he said.

I nodded. I intended to.

I waited a while and watched the play start, fascinated by the intent look on their faces ... Aimee's no less than the others. I felt a little uneasy about her. I thought, Lance has made a gambler of her. And I felt somewhat responsible.

In this room was a marble fireplace with a large mirror above it and on the mantelpiece a bowl of chrysanthemums. I myself had arranged them that morning. Someone must have brushed against them when passing, for one of them was almost falling out of the bowl. I started to adjust it while I listened to them calling their stakes. I shuddered.

It was all so depressing to me, for many of them would come out of that room much poorer than they went in.

I was looking straight at Aimee in the glass. I could not believe that I saw correctly.

Her hand moved inside the opening in her skirt to her petticoat. There had been no card in her hand when she put it in, and she was holding one when she drew it out.

I saw her slip the card among those she was holding in her other hand.

I felt faintly sick. It was hot in the room. Or was that my imagination? I wanted to get out, but I stood there fixed to the spot, staring at Aimee in the looking glass.

She was smiling, and they were all congratulating her. She had won again.

I had to get away. I called good night to them and went to the bedroom. I sat down and stared at my reflection in the glass.

I must have been mistaken. Of course I had not been. I had seen it all so clearly.

I kept going over it ... that vital moment when she had brought the card out from her petticoat, the smile on her face, her leaning forward and putting her elbow on the table, holding the cards fan-shaped before her.

She had great good luck. Of course she did. She made her luck by cheating at cards.

It was impossible! But it wasn't, of course. Cheating was the greatest sin among gamblers. What did they do about people who cheated? They were banished from clubs.

No one would play with them. Duels had been fought between accusers and accused.

What could I do? One thing was certain. I could not allow Aimee to go on cheating in my house. Should I tell Lance? He would be horrified. That would be one of the things which could really move him. And where would she go if she were asked to leave?

What would happen to Jean-Louis?

I was very upset and uncertain.

I undressed and went to bed. I lay sleepless, listening for the sounds of departure, for Lance's step on the stairs. I had not yet made up my mind what I should do.