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In fact, the atmosphere in the room could have been termed cordial except for the air of anticipation that seemed to permeate the viewing crowd. I heard lots of whisperings and saw sideways glances among the gathering and I wondered if they knew something I didn't. Then, a little before one o'clock, Mr Jameson, sitting across the table from me, hit a losing streak. At first, I didn't think anything about it. Everybody has one now and again and the only thing to do is grit one's teeth and try to weather the storm. Or get up and leave. Apparently, he was an old college buddy of the host, so the second option was unthinkable and so he stayed, prepared to accept his loss. And lose he did. As a professional, I've watched strange plays in my time, but some of the hands he gambled on, seemed like madness.During one particular hand, when I won almost fifty-thousand dollars from him, I was able to study his behaviour closely. Where he'd been decisive at the start of the game, he was now. .. what? What could she say?Max took another long look at the screen before standing up, his body trembling. He knocked his chair over, then turned and ran from the classroom.It wasn't till then that Mr. Stephens noticed anything was amiss. He strode to the TV set, where he quickly took in what was being displayed. He at once recognized the couple performing on screen. "My god!" he cried, and reached for the off switch.As the screen went black, he swung round to look at Robyn. She was frozen in her chair, like a young deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mack truck.He said gravely, "Robyn, I think you had better come with me." He took her arm and helped her rise from her seat, then walked her out of the room.Just outside the classroom he stopped and faced her. "What the hell was that I just saw, young lady?" His face was red, and he looked thoroughly upset.Tears streamed down Robyn's cheeks, but all she could say was, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stephens. I'm so sorry. I had no.
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