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Updated: May 21, 2025
There was no receptacle at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which covered it the little shoe beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful. Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy. "My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for which we played at the Green Lion long ago."
Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the dice may elect me and not yourself." "You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke. "Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be myself." Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of bone.
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