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 anger more than once. He had a way of leaning over just as Porgy cast, and placing his face almost on the flags so that he could see under the dice when they struck. Then he would look up, laugh meaningly into Porgy's face, and sometimes clap his hands as though the cripple had managed something very cleverly.

When the game finally broke up it was clear that he had poisoned the minds of the company, and the good nights lacked their usual warmth.

Bess reached into her apron pocket, and drew out the evening's winnings. The coins made quite a little weight in her hand. A late fragment of moon swung over the wall and poured its diminished light into her open palm. She commenced to count the money. Porgy left her, and drew himself into his room. She proceeded to count, absorbed in her task.

"Porgy lucky," said a low voice beside her. "Mus' be yer gots two dollar dere fer um." Sportin' Life lifted his elegant trousers, so that the knees would not bag, and squatted on the flags at her side. He removed his stiff straw hat, with its bright