He started back as though her hand had slapped his flushed cheek.
"You have played the long chance, Joe Embry," she went on quietly. "You have been forced to it and, gambler style, have played the long chance. And lost! If you will stand aside I think I will go out."
While the dawn brightened about them Joe Embry did not stir for a long time, did not move hand or foot. Then at last, slowly, he slipped his revolver into his coat pocket. His face would have told nothing even had the light been better.
"I don't quite catch your meaning, Miss Corliss," he returned in his usual smooth, expressionless voice. "No doubt the experiences of the night have terribly upset you. Will you seek to be calm and …"
Her cool, contemptuous laughter cut him short.
"You lose, Joe Embry," was all that she said.
"Just what am I losing?" he asked quietly.
"Me! Me and my millions! What you have been playing for since I first met you. And shall I tell you why you lose? Because you are not man enough to win! When, the other night. Bill Steele played the long chance and bucked your own game at Boom Town he won … because, losing at first he but played the harder, because if twelve thousand dollars would not have done it he would have risked twice twelve thousand. Because he had made up his mind to win, and, being a man, he won! And you, Joe Embry, just miss that … just miss being a man!"
"Again," he said, though now with the first tremour in his voice, "I don't quite get you."
