Rose, Blanche, and Violet, Volume III by George Henry Lewes

Now why must I disturb a dream of bliss, / And bring cold sorrow 'twixt the wedded kiss? / How mar the fate of beauty, and disclose / The weeping days that with the morning rose. / LEIGH HUNT. -- _Rimini._

Ever since that night when Cecil had first entered a gambling-house, and lost the few pounds Frank had lent him, the image of the joyous winner huddling the notes and gold into his pocket pursued him like a phantom. He had resolved to play no more; he could not afford to lose; and his first venture had been so unfortunate, that he could not hope hazard would be in his favour. Men have extraordinary practical belief or disbelief in their own "luck. " Ask a man if he seriously, theoretically believes in anything of the kind, and he will answer, No. Yet that very man puts his name down in a raffle, or cuts cards against an adversary, or stakes large sums on any game of chance, "because he always wins" -- because "he is so lucky."