I. A. R. Wylie

“ On the other side of the table the elderly man with the pale, emaciated features watched the changes of fortune with calm interest. He was not playing, but once, at a peculiar run of luck, he smiled, and, looking up, met Fenton's eyes. The smile lingered as if in recognition.
“The man who doesn't give luck her chance deserves never to know her.” ”

“ The latter, obviously considerably his junior, nodded, and something about the white, masklike face held Fenton's attention. He had a vague consciousness that he had seen it somewhere before, but as he grappled with the recollection, it slipped from him, leaving his memory blank.
“There's bad luck and good luck,” the man rejoined carelessly. “The coward naturally shrinks from an error in choice. But, as you say, the brave man takes his chance. Heroes are born gamblers.” ”

“ CHAPTER V. “The man who doesn't give luck her chance deserves never to know her.”
The words came to Fenton from over the low bank of flowers that divided the hotel conservatory, and involuntarily he glanced in the direction of the speaker. An elderly man, whose somewhat haggard features were half hidden by a heavy beard, had stopped a moment to light his cigar, and it was between puffs that he had addressed his remark to his companion. ”