I cannot imagine you as Felicia,” he said. “You’re Cleo.”
“Are you always in the habit of redefining your female companions?”
“If you must know, it’s your hair. Your hair is far more Cleo than Felicia.”
She laughed. “Now you’re being silly.”
“Sorry it’s a little bugbear of mine,” he said. “Underneath it all, however, I am being quite serious.”
He looked at her meaningfully.
“Stop it!” she said, laughing.
“What’s the matter?”
“Come on,” she said before he could look away. “Let’s go to the casino.”
“Now tell me,” he said, as they sat down at the roulette table, “what colour should I put it on? – Red or black. It’s your choice.”
“Red,” she said. “Red is my favourite colour.”
He smiled.
“Red it is.”
“That’s mad,” she said, as the chips came in. “How did you do that?”
“Simple,” he said. “It was a numerical calculation based on your name.”
Over the following three hours, they gambled the money away. But it did not matter. Cleo had already got the bug.
“Felicia.”
“Cleo.”
She laughed. “What now?”
“We must decide whether to do it again.”
“Haven’t we won enough this evening?”
“Quite enough I think.”
“Then let’s go back to the hotel.”