Though he had always lost, he had
always played with men who had played honestly. There is much that is,
in truth, dishonest even in honest play. A man who can keep himself
sober after dinner plays with one who flusters himself with drink. The
man with a trained memory plays with him who cannot remember a card. The
cool man plays with the impetuous; the man who can hold his tongue with
him who cannot but talk; the man whose practised face will tell no
secrets with him who loses a point every rubber by his uncontrolled
grimaces. And then there is the man who knows the game, and plays with
him who knows it not at all. Of course, the cool, the collected, the
thoughtful, the practised,--they who have given up their whole souls to
the study of cards,--will play at a great advantage, which in their
calculations they do not fail to recognize. See the man standing by and
watching the table, and leaving all the bets he can on A and B as against
C and D; and, however ignorant you may be, you will soon become sure
that A and B know the game, whereas C and D are simply infants. That is
all fair and acknowledged; but looking at it from a distance, as you lie
under your apple-trees in your orchard, far from the shout of "Two by
honors," you will come to doubt the honesty of making your income after
such a fashion.
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