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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Adventures of Sally
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7464]
+[This file last updated on July 17, 2010]
+Posting Date: July 31, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Tim Barnett
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY
+
+
+By P. G. Wodehouse
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. SALLY GIVES A PARTY
+
+
+
+1
+
+Sally looked contentedly down the long table. She felt happy at last.
+Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after an
+uncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would be. The
+first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only too
+well aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had
+worn off; and the male and female patrons of Mrs. Meecher's select
+boarding-house (transient and residential) were themselves again.
+
+At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the
+great vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it.
+The next best thing to having money of one's own, is to dictate the
+spending of somebody else's, and Sally's guests were finding a good deal
+of satisfaction in arranging a Budget for her. Rumour having put the
+sum at their disposal at a high figure, their suggestions had certain
+spaciousness.
+
+"Let me tell you," said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, "what I'd do, if
+I were you." Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an intensely subordinate
+position in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown, the Wall Street brokers,
+always affected a brisk, incisive style of speech, as befitted a man
+in close touch with the great ones of Finance. "I'd sink a couple of
+hundred thousand in some good, safe bond-issue--we've just put one out
+which you would do well to consider--and play about with the rest. When
+I say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.
+Multiple Steel's worth looking at. They tell me it'll be up to a hundred
+and fifty before next Saturday."
+
+Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's
+left, had other views.
+
+"Buy a theatre. Sally, and put on good stuff."
+
+"And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deep
+voice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the
+mild young man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the
+heavyweight championship. I've private information that Battling Tuke
+has been got at and means to lie down in the seventh..."
+
+"Say, listen," interrupted another voice, "lemme tell you what I'd do
+with four hundred thousand..."
+
+"If I had four hundred thousand," said Elsa Doland, "I know what would
+be the first thing I'd do."
+
+"What's that?" asked Sally.
+
+"Pay my bill for last week, due this morning."
+
+Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her
+friend's shoulder and whispered in her ear:
+
+"Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll..."
+
+Elsa Doland laughed.
+
+"You're an angel, Sally. There's no one like you. You'd give your last
+cent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from the
+road, and I've saved a fortune. I only said that to draw you."
+
+Sally returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had now
+divided itself into two schools of thought. The conservative and prudent
+element, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on three
+hundred thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe real estate;
+while the smaller, more sporting section, impressed by the mild young
+man's inside information, had already placed Sally's money on Benny
+Whistler, doling it out cautiously in small sums so as not to spoil the
+market. And so solid, it seemed, was Mr. Tuke's reputation with those
+in the inner circle of knowledge that the mild young man was confident
+that, if you went about the matter cannily and without precipitation,
+three to one might be obtained. It seemed to Sally that the time had
+come to correct certain misapprehensions.
+
+"I don't know where you get your figures," she said, "but I'm afraid
+they're wrong. I've just twenty-five thousand dollars."
+
+The statement had a chilling effect. To these jugglers with
+half-millions the amount mentioned seemed for the moment almost too
+small to bother about. It was the sort of sum which they had been
+mentally setting aside for the heiress's car fare. Then they managed to
+adjust their minds to it. After all, one could do something even with a
+pittance like twenty-five thousand.
+
+"If I'd twenty-five thousand," said Augustus Bartlett, the first to
+rally from the shock, "I'd buy Amalgamated..."
+
+"If I had twenty-five thousand..." began Elsa Doland.
+
+"If I'd had twenty-five thousand in the year nineteen hundred," observed
+a gloomy-looking man with spectacles, "I could have started a revolution
+in Paraguay."
+
+He brooded sombrely on what might have been.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do," said Sally. "I'm
+going to start with a trip to Europe... France, specially. I've heard
+France well spoken of--as soon as I can get my passport; and after I've
+loafed there for a few weeks, I'm coming back to look about and find
+some nice cosy little business which will let me put money into it and
+keep me in luxury. Are there any complaints?"
+
+"Even a couple of thousand on Benny Whistler..." said the mild young
+man.
+
+"I don't want your Benny Whistler," said Sally. "I wouldn't have him if
+you gave him to me. If I want to lose money, I'll go to Monte Carlo and
+do it properly."
+
+"Monte Carlo," said the gloomy man, brightening up at the magic name.
+"I was in Monte Carlo in the year '97, and if I'd had another fifty
+dollars... just fifty... I'd have..."
+
+At the far end of the table there was a stir, a cough, and the grating
+of a chair on the floor; and slowly, with that easy grace which actors
+of the old school learned in the days when acting was acting, Mr.
+Maxwell Faucitt, the boarding-house's oldest inhabitant, rose to his
+feet.
+
+"Ladies," said Mr. Faucitt, bowing courteously, "and..." ceasing to bow
+and casting from beneath his white and venerable eyebrows a quelling
+glance at certain male members of the boarding-house's younger set who
+were showing a disposition towards restiveness, "... gentlemen. I feel
+that I cannot allow this occasion to pass without saying a few words."
+
+His audience did not seem surprised. It was possible that life, always
+prolific of incident in a great city like New York, might some day
+produce an occasion which Mr. Faucitt would feel that he could allow to
+pass without saying a few words; but nothing of the sort had happened as
+yet, and they had given up hope. Right from the start of the meal they
+had felt that it would be optimism run mad to expect the old gentleman
+to abstain from speech on the night of Sally Nicholas' farewell
+dinner party; and partly because they had braced themselves to it, but
+principally because Miss Nicholas' hospitality had left them with a
+genial feeling of repletion, they settled themselves to listen
+with something resembling equanimity. A movement on the part of the
+Marvellous Murphys--new arrivals, who had been playing the Bushwick with
+their equilibristic act during the preceding week--to form a party of
+the extreme left and heckle the speaker, broke down under a cold look
+from their hostess. Brief though their acquaintance had been, both of
+these lissom young gentlemen admired Sally immensely.
+
+And it should be set on record that this admiration of theirs was not
+misplaced. He would have been hard to please who had not been attracted
+by Sally. She was a small, trim, wisp of a girl with the tiniest hands
+and feet, the friendliest of smiles, and a dimple that came and went
+in the curve of her rounded chin. Her eyes, which disappeared when she
+laughed, which was often, were a bright hazel; her hair a soft mass of
+brown. She had, moreover, a manner, an air of distinction lacking in the
+majority of Mrs. Meecher's guests. And she carried youth like a banner.
+In approving of Sally, the Marvellous Murphys had been guilty of no
+lapse from their high critical standard.
+
+"I have been asked," proceeded Mr. Faucitt, "though I am aware that
+there are others here far worthier of such a task--Brutuses compared
+with whom I, like Marc Antony, am no orator--I have been asked to
+propose the health..."
+
+"Who asked you?" It was the smaller of the Marvellous Murphys who spoke.
+He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty. Still, he could
+balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while
+revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
+
+"I have been asked," repeated Mr. Faucitt, ignoring the unmannerly
+interruption, which, indeed, he would have found it hard to answer, "to
+propose the health of our charming hostess (applause), coupled with the
+name of her brother, our old friend Fillmore Nicholas."
+
+The gentleman referred to, who sat at the speaker's end of the table,
+acknowledged the tribute with a brief nod of the head. It was a nod of
+condescension; the nod of one who, conscious of being hedged about by
+social inferiors, nevertheless does his best to be not unkindly. And
+Sally, seeing it, debated in her mind for an instant the advisability
+of throwing an orange at her brother. There was one lying ready to her
+hand, and his glistening shirt-front offered an admirable mark; but
+she restrained herself. After all, if a hostess yields to her primitive
+impulses, what happens? Chaos. She had just frowned down the exuberance
+of the rebellious Murphys, and she felt that if, even with the highest
+motives, she began throwing fruit, her influence for good in that
+quarter would be weakened.
+
+She leaned back with a sigh. The temptation had been hard to resist. A
+democratic girl, pomposity was a quality which she thoroughly disliked;
+and though she loved him, she could not disguise from herself that,
+ever since affluence had descended upon him some months ago, her brother
+Fillmore had become insufferably pompous. If there are any young men
+whom inherited wealth improves, Fillmore Nicholas was not one of them.
+He seemed to regard himself nowadays as a sort of Man of Destiny. To
+converse with him was for the ordinary human being like being received
+in audience by some more than stand-offish monarch. It had taken Sally
+over an hour to persuade him to leave his apartment on Riverside Drive
+and revisit the boarding-house for this special occasion; and, when he
+had come, he had entered wearing such faultless evening dress that he
+had made the rest of the party look like a gathering of tramp-cyclists.
+His white waistcoat alone was a silent reproach to honest poverty,
+and had caused an awkward constraint right through the soup and fish
+courses. Most of those present had known Fillmore Nicholas as an
+impecunious young man who could make a tweed suit last longer than one
+would have believed possible; they had called him "Fill" and helped him
+in more than usually lean times with small loans: but to-night they had
+eyed the waistcoat dumbly and shrank back abashed.
+
+"Speaking," said Mr. Faucitt, "as an Englishman--for though I have long
+since taken out what are technically known as my 'papers' it was as a
+subject of the island kingdom that I first visited this great country--I
+may say that the two factors in American life which have always made
+the profoundest impression upon me have been the lavishness of American
+hospitality and the charm of the American girl. To-night we have been
+privileged to witness the American girl in the capacity of hostess, and
+I think I am right in saying, in asseverating, in committing myself to
+the statement that this has been a night which none of us present here
+will ever forget. Miss Nicholas has given us, ladies and gentlemen, a
+banquet. I repeat, a banquet. There has been alcoholic refreshment. I
+do not know where it came from: I do not ask how it was procured, but we
+have had it. Miss Nicholas..."
+
+Mr. Faucitt paused to puff at his cigar. Sally's brother Fillmore
+suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch. Sally continued to lean
+forward raptly. She knew how happy it made the old gentleman to deliver
+a formal speech; and though she wished the subject had been different,
+she was prepared to listen indefinitely.
+
+"Miss Nicholas," resumed Mr. Faucitt, lowering his cigar, "... But why,"
+he demanded abruptly, "do I call her Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Because it's her name," hazarded the taller Murphy.
+
+Mr. Faucitt eyed him with disfavour. He disapproved of the marvellous
+brethren on general grounds because, himself a resident of years
+standing, he considered that these transients from the vaudeville stage
+lowered the tone of the boarding-house; but particularly because the one
+who had just spoken had, on his first evening in the place, addressed
+him as "grandpa."
+
+"Yes, sir," he said severely, "it is her name. But she has another name,
+sweeter to those who love her, those who worship her, those who have
+watched her with the eye of sedulous affection through the three years
+she has spent beneath this roof, though that name," said Mr. Faucitt,
+lowering the tone of his address and descending to what might almost be
+termed personalities, "may not be familiar to a couple of dud acrobats
+who have only been in the place a week-end, thank heaven, and are off
+to-morrow to infest some other city. That name," said Mr. Faucitt,
+soaring once more to a loftier plane, "is Sally. Our Sally. For three
+years our Sally has flitted about this establishment like--I choose the
+simile advisedly--like a ray of sunshine. For three years she has
+made life for us a brighter, sweeter thing. And now a sudden access of
+worldly wealth, happily synchronizing with her twenty-first birthday, is
+to remove her from our midst. From our midst, ladies and gentlemen,
+but not from our hearts. And I think I may venture to hope, to
+prognosticate, that, whatever lofty sphere she may adorn in the future,
+to whatever heights in the social world she may soar, she will still
+continue to hold a corner in her own golden heart for the comrades of
+her Bohemian days. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our hostess, Miss
+Sally Nicholas, coupled with the name of our old friend, her brother
+Fillmore."
+
+Sally, watching her brother heave himself to his feet as the cheers died
+away, felt her heart beat a little faster with anticipation. Fillmore
+was a fluent young man, once a power in his college debating society,
+and it was for that reason that she had insisted on his coming here
+tonight.
+
+She had guessed that Mr. Faucitt, the old dear, would say all sorts of
+delightful things about her, and she had mistrusted her ability to
+make a fitting reply. And it was imperative that a fitting reply should
+proceed from someone. She knew Mr. Faucitt so well. He looked on these
+occasions rather in the light of scenes from some play; and, sustaining
+his own part in them with such polished grace, was certain to be pained
+by anything in the nature of an anti-climax after he should have ceased
+to take the stage. Eloquent himself, he must be answered with eloquence,
+or his whole evening would be spoiled.
+
+Fillmore Nicholas smoothed a wrinkle out of his white waistcoat; and
+having rested one podgy hand on the table-cloth and the thumb of the
+other in his pocket, glanced down the table with eyes so haughtily
+drooping that Sally's fingers closed automatically about her orange, as
+she wondered whether even now it might not be a good thing...
+
+It seems to be one of Nature's laws that the most attractive girls
+should have the least attractive brothers. Fillmore Nicholas had not
+worn well. At the age of seven he had been an extraordinarily beautiful
+child, but after that he had gone all to pieces; and now, at the age of
+twenty-five, it would be idle to deny that he was something of a mess.
+For the three years preceding his twenty-fifth birthday, restricted
+means and hard work had kept his figure in check; but with money there
+had come an ever-increasing sleekness. He looked as if he fed too often
+and too well.
+
+All this, however, Sally was prepared to forgive him, if he would only
+make a good speech. She could see Mr. Faucitt leaning back in his chair,
+all courteous attention. Rolling periods were meat and drink to the old
+gentleman.
+
+Fillmore spoke.
+
+"I'm sure," said Fillmore, "you don't want a speech... Very good of you
+to drink our health. Thank you."
+
+He sat down.
+
+The effect of these few simple words on the company was marked, but not
+in every case identical. To the majority the emotion which they brought
+was one of unmixed relief. There had been something so menacing, so easy
+and practised, in Fillmore's attitude as he had stood there that the
+gloomier-minded had given him at least twenty minutes, and even the
+optimists had reckoned that they would be lucky if they got off with
+ten. As far as the bulk of the guests were concerned, there was
+no grumbling. Fillmore's, to their thinking, had been the ideal
+after-dinner speech.
+
+Far different was it with Mr. Maxwell Faucitt. The poor old man was
+wearing such an expression of surprise and dismay as he might have
+worn had somebody unexpectedly pulled the chair from under him. He was
+feeling the sick shock which comes to those who tread on a non-existent
+last stair. And Sally, catching sight of his face, uttered a sharp
+wordless exclamation as if she had seen a child fall down and hurt
+itself in the street. The next moment she had run round the table and
+was standing behind him with her arms round his neck. She spoke across
+him with a sob in her voice.
+
+"My brother," she stammered, directing a malevolent look at the
+immaculate Fillmore, who, avoiding her gaze, glanced down his nose
+and smoothed another wrinkle out of his waistcoat, "has not said
+quite--quite all I hoped he was going to say. I can't make a speech,
+but..." Sally gulped, "... but, I love you all and of course I shall
+never forget you, and... and..."
+
+Here Sally kissed Mr. Faucitt and burst into tears.
+
+"There, there," said Mr. Faucitt, soothingly. The kindest critic could
+not have claimed that Sally had been eloquent: nevertheless Mr. Maxwell
+Faucitt was conscious of no sense of anti-climax.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.
+The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-house
+immediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, who
+had furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into the
+night, had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly indignant
+sister. Her remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating sounds from the
+accused, had lasted some ten minutes.
+
+As she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubber
+ball which has been sat on. Dignified as he was to the world, he had
+never been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally when
+in one of these moods of hers. He regretted this, for it hurt his
+self-esteem, but he did not see how the fact could be altered. Sally
+had always been like that. Even the uncle, who after the deaths of their
+parents had become their guardian, had never, though a grim man, been
+able to cope successfully with Sally. In that last hectic scene three
+years ago, which had ended in their going out into the world, together
+like a second Adam and Eve, the verbal victory had been hers. And it
+had been Sally who had achieved triumph in the one battle which Mrs.
+Meecher, apparently as a matter of duty, always brought about with each
+of her patrons in the first week of their stay. A sweet-tempered
+girl, Sally, like most women of a generous spirit, had cyclonic
+potentialities.
+
+As she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till he
+had reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the defence.
+
+"What have I done?" demanded Fillmore plaintively.
+
+"Do you want to hear all over again?"
+
+"No, no," said Fillmore hastily. "But, listen. Sally, you don't
+understand my position. You don't seem to realize that all that sort of
+thing, all that boarding-house stuff, is a thing of the past. One's got
+beyond it. One wants to drop it. One wants to forget it, darn it! Be
+fair. Look at it from my viewpoint. I'm going to be a big man..."
+
+"You're going to be a fat man," said Sally, coldly.
+
+Fillmore refrained from discussing the point. He was sensitive.
+
+"I'm going to do big things," he substituted. "I've got a deal on at
+this very moment which... well, I can't tell you about it, but it's
+going to be big. Well, what I'm driving at, is about all this sort of
+thing"--he indicated the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher's home-from-home
+with a wide gesture--"is that it's over. Finished and done with. These
+people were all very well when..."
+
+"... when you'd lost your week's salary at poker and wanted to borrow a
+few dollars for the rent."
+
+"I always paid them back," protested Fillmore, defensively.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Well, we did," said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the air of
+a man who has no time for chopping straws. "Anyway, what I mean is, I
+don't see why, just because one has known people at a certain period in
+one's life when one was practically down and out, one should have
+them round one's neck for ever. One can't prevent people forming an
+I-knew-him-when club, but, darn it, one needn't attend the meetings."
+
+"One's friends..."
+
+"Oh, friends," said Fillmore. "That's just where all this makes me so
+tired. One's in a position where all these people are entitled to call
+themselves one's friends, simply because father put it in his will that
+I wasn't to get the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting me
+have it at twenty-one like anybody else. I wonder where I should have
+been by now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one."
+
+"In the poor-house, probably," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore was wounded.
+
+"Ah! you don't believe in me," he sighed.
+
+"Oh, you would be all right if you had one thing," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.
+Brains? Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct. He
+wondered where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.
+
+"One thing?" he said. "What's that?"
+
+"A nurse."
+
+Fillmore's sense of injury deepened. He supposed that this was always
+the way, that those nearest to a man never believed in his ability
+till he had proved it so masterfully that it no longer required the
+assistance of faith. Still, it was trying; and there was not much
+consolation to be derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to go
+through this sort of thing in his day. "I shall find my place in the
+world," he said sulkily.
+
+"Oh, you'll find your place all right," said Sally. "And I'll come
+round and bring you jelly and read to you on the days when visitors are
+allowed... Oh, hullo."
+
+The last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swinging
+briskly along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who now,
+coming abreast of them, stopped.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Foster."
+
+"Good evening. Miss Nicholas."
+
+"You don't know my brother, do you?"
+
+"I don't believe I do."
+
+"He left the underworld before you came to it," said Sally. "You
+wouldn't think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater among
+the proletariat, even as you and I. Mrs. Meecher looks on him as a son."
+
+The two men shook hands. Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Foster
+with his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him. He was an
+Englishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed, and
+very good to look at. Fillmore, who had recently been going in for one
+of those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the better to fit
+himself for his career of greatness, was rather impressed. It seemed to
+him that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was one of those who Get There.
+If you are that kind yourself, you get into the knack of recognizing the
+others. It is a sort of gift.
+
+There was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind that
+usually follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorry
+to get the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival to
+remove himself. He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it seemed
+probable that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less. He was glad
+that Mr. Foster had happened along at this particular juncture. Excusing
+himself briefly, he hurried off down the street.
+
+Sally stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round the
+corner. She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too late,
+she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would have been
+agreeable to say to him. And it had become obvious to her that Fillmore
+was not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing said to him
+nowadays. Then she dismissed him from her mind and turning to Gerald
+Foster, slipped her arm through his.
+
+"Well, Jerry, darling," she said. "What a shame you couldn't come to the
+party. Tell me all about everything."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was exactly two months since Sally had become engaged to Gerald
+Foster; but so rigorously had they kept the secret that nobody at Mrs.
+Meecher's so much as suspected it. To Sally, who all her life had hated
+concealing things, secrecy of any kind was objectionable: but in this
+matter Gerald had shown an odd streak almost of furtiveness in his
+character. An announced engagement complicated life. People fussed about
+you and bothered you. People either watched you or avoided you. Such
+were his arguments, and Sally, who would have glossed over and found
+excuses for a disposition on his part towards homicide or arson, put
+them down to artistic sensitiveness. There is nobody so sensitive as
+your artist, particularly if he be unsuccessful: and when an artist has
+so little success that he cannot afford to make a home for the woman
+he loves, his sensitiveness presumably becomes great indeed. Putting
+herself in his place, Sally could see that a protracted engagement,
+known by everybody, would be a standing advertisement of Gerald's
+failure to make good: and she acquiesced in the policy of secrecy,
+hoping that it would not last long. It seemed absurd to think of Gerald
+as an unsuccessful man. He had in him, as the recent Fillmore had
+perceived, something dynamic. He was one of those men of whom one could
+predict that they would succeed very suddenly and rapidly--overnight, as
+it were.
+
+"The party," said Sally, "went off splendidly." They had passed the
+boarding-house door, and were walking slowly down the street. "Everybody
+enjoyed themselves, I think, even though Fillmore did his best to spoil
+things by coming looking like an advertisement of What The Smart Men
+Will Wear This Season. You didn't see his waistcoat just now. He
+had covered it up. Conscience, I suppose. It was white and bulgy and
+gleaming and full up of pearl buttons and everything. I saw Augustus
+Bartlett curl up like a burnt feather when he caught sight of it. Still,
+time seemed to heal the wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit. Mr.
+Faucitt made a speech and I made a speech and cried, and...oh, it was
+all very festive. It only needed you."
+
+"I wish I could have come. I had to go to that dinner, though. Sally..."
+Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with suppressed
+excitement. "Sally, the play's going to be put on!"
+
+Sally gave a little gasp. She had lived this moment in anticipation for
+weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She
+had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were
+wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also
+admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was
+another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr.
+Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider
+that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with
+a future who would do something big directly she got her chance.
+
+"Jerry!" She gave his arm a hug. "How simply terrific! Then Goble and
+Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would."
+
+A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.
+
+"No, not that one," he said reluctantly. "No hope there, I'm afraid. I
+saw Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right.
+The one that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember?
+It's got a big part for a girl in it."
+
+"Of course! The one Elsa liked so much. Well, that's just as good. Who's
+going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again."
+
+"Well, it happens..." Gerald hesitated once more. "It seems that this
+man I was dining with to-night--a man named Cracknell..."
+
+"Cracknell? Not the Cracknell?"
+
+"The Cracknell?"
+
+"The one people are always talking about. The man they call the
+Millionaire Kid."
+
+"Yes. Why, do you know him?"
+
+"He was at Harvard with Fillmore. I never saw him, but he must be rather
+a painful person."
+
+"Oh, he's all right. Not much brains, of course, but--well, he's all
+right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on."
+
+"Well, that's splendid," said Sally: but she could not get the right
+ring of enthusiasm into her voice. She had had ideals for Gerald. She
+had dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under the banner of
+one of the big managers whose name carried a prestige, and there seemed
+something unworthy in this association with a man whose chief claim to
+eminence lay in the fact that he was credited by metropolitan gossip
+with possessing the largest private stock of alcohol in existence.
+
+"I thought you would be pleased," said Gerald.
+
+"Oh, I am," said Sally.
+
+With the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had
+already begun to cast off her momentary depression. After all, did
+it matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A
+manager was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if
+he had money for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer
+sensibilities from him? The real thing that mattered was the question
+of who was going to play the leading part, that deftly drawn character
+which had so excited the admiration of Elsa Doland. She sought
+information on this point.
+
+"Who will play Ruth?" she asked. "You must have somebody wonderful. It
+needs a tremendously clever woman. Did Mr. Cracknell say anything about
+that?"
+
+"Oh, yes, we discussed that, of course."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, it seems..." Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy
+embarrassment. Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night
+without feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a
+dark alley. She noticed it the more because it was so different from
+his usual direct method. Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who
+apologize for themselves. He was forthright and masterful and inclined
+to talk to her from a height. To-night he seemed different.
+
+He broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.
+
+"Do you know Mabel Hobson?"
+
+"Mabel Hobson? I've seen her in the 'Follies,' of course."
+
+Sally started. A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its
+absurdity became manifest the moment it had formed. And yet was
+it absurd? Most Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the
+boarding-house, chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the
+mild young man who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler,
+and she was aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always
+getting itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss
+Hobson. It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth,
+for the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts the
+Cracknells of this world. But even so...
+
+"It seems that Cracknell..." said Gerald. "Apparently this man
+Cracknell..." He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat
+trying. "Well, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and...
+well, he thinks this part would suit her."
+
+"Oh, Jerry!"
+
+Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of
+a Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as
+to make him entrust a part like Ruth in "The Primrose Way" to one who,
+when desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses
+across the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that
+she had not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald
+could perceive that this was not the stuff of which great emotional
+actresses are made.
+
+"Oh, Jerry!" she said again.
+
+There was an uncomfortable silence. They turned and walked back in the
+direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get
+itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache
+that was almost like a physical pain.
+
+"Jerry! Is it worth it?" she burst out vehemently.
+
+The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual
+decisive speech.
+
+"Worth it? Of course it's worth it. It's a Broadway production. That's
+all that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to get a
+play on Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away my
+chance when it comes along just because one might do better in the way
+of casting."
+
+"But, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first
+degree."
+
+"Nonsense. She'll be all right. The part will play itself. Besides,
+she has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the
+money in the world to make the thing a success. And it will be a start,
+whatever happens. Of course, it's worth it."
+
+Fillmore would have been impressed by this speech. He would have
+recognized and respected in it the unmistakable ring which characterizes
+even the lightest utterances of those who get there. On Sally it had not
+immediately that effect. Nevertheless, her habit of making the best of
+things, working together with that primary article of her creed that
+the man she loved could do no wrong, succeeded finally in raising her
+spirits. Of course Jerry was right. It would have been foolish to refuse
+a contract because all its clauses were not ideal.
+
+"You old darling," she said affectionately attaching herself to the
+vacant arm once more and giving it a penitent squeeze, "you're quite
+right. Of course you are. I can see it now. I was only a little startled
+at first. Everything's going to be wonderful. Let's get all our chickens
+out and count 'em. How are you going to spend the money?"
+
+"I know how I'm going to spend a dollar of it," said Gerald completely
+restored.
+
+"I mean the big money. What's a dollar?"
+
+"It pays for a marriage-licence."
+
+Sally gave his arm another squeeze.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "Look at this man. Observe him. My
+partner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. ENTER GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally was sitting with her back against a hillock of golden sand,
+watching with half-closed eyes the denizens of Roville-sur-Mer at their
+familiar morning occupations. At Roville, as at most French seashore
+resorts, the morning is the time when the visiting population assembles
+in force on the beach. Whiskered fathers of families made cheerful
+patches of colour in the foreground. Their female friends and relatives
+clustered in groups under gay parasols. Dogs roamed to and fro, and
+children dug industriously with spades, ever and anon suspending their
+labours in order to smite one another with these handy implements. One
+of the dogs, a poodle of military aspect, wandered up to Sally: and
+discovering that she was in possession of a box of sweets, decided to
+remain and await developments.
+
+Few things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them, but Sally's
+vacation had proved an exception to this rule. It had been a magic month
+of lazy happiness. She had drifted luxuriously from one French town to
+another, till the charm of Roville, with its blue sky, its Casino,
+its snow-white hotels along the Promenade, and its general glitter
+and gaiety, had brought her to a halt. Here she could have stayed
+indefinitely, but the voice of America was calling her back. Gerald had
+written to say that "The Primrose Way" was to be produced in Detroit,
+preliminary to its New York run, so soon that, if she wished to see the
+opening, she must return at once. A scrappy, hurried, unsatisfactory
+letter, the letter of a busy man: but one that Sally could not ignore.
+She was leaving Roville to-morrow.
+
+To-day, however, was to-day: and she sat and watched the bathers with
+a familiar feeling of peace, revelling as usual in the still novel
+sensation of having nothing to do but bask in the warm sunshine and
+listen to the faint murmur of the little waves.
+
+But, if there was one drawback, she had discovered, to a morning on the
+Roville plage, it was that you had a tendency to fall asleep: and this
+is a degrading thing to do so soon after breakfast, even if you are on
+a holiday. Usually, Sally fought stoutly against the temptation, but
+to-day the sun was so warm and the whisper of the waves so insinuating
+that she had almost dozed off, when she was aroused by voices close at
+hand. There were many voices on the beach, both near and distant, but
+these were talking English, a novelty in Roville, and the sound of the
+familiar tongue jerked Sally back from the borders of sleep. A few feet
+away, two men had seated themselves on the sand.
+
+From the first moment she had set out on her travels, it had been one of
+Sally's principal amusements to examine the strangers whom chance threw
+in her way and to try by the light of her intuition to fit them out with
+characters and occupations: nor had she been discouraged by an almost
+consistent failure to guess right. Out of the corner of her eye she
+inspected these two men.
+
+The first of the pair did not attract her. He was a tall, dark man whose
+tight, precise mouth and rather high cheeks bones gave him an appearance
+vaguely sinister. He had the dusky look of the clean-shaven man whose
+life is a perpetual struggle with a determined beard. He certainly
+shaved twice a day, and just as certainly had the self-control not to
+swear when he cut himself. She could picture him smiling nastily when
+this happened.
+
+"Hard," diagnosed Sally. "I shouldn't like him. A lawyer or something, I
+think."
+
+She turned to the other and found herself looking into his eyes. This
+was because he had been staring at Sally with the utmost intentness ever
+since his arrival. His mouth had opened slightly. He had the air of a
+man who, after many disappointments, has at last found something worth
+looking at.
+
+"Rather a dear," decided Sally.
+
+He was a sturdy, thick-set young man with an amiable, freckled face and
+the reddest hair Sally had ever seen. He had a square chin, and at one
+angle of the chin a slight cut. And Sally was convinced that, however
+he had behaved on receipt of that wound, it had not been with superior
+self-control.
+
+"A temper, I should think," she meditated. "Very quick, but soon over.
+Not very clever, I should say, but nice."
+
+She looked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.
+
+The dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one
+felt, characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting
+a cigarette in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and
+resumed the conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by the
+process of sitting down.
+
+"And how is Scrymgeour?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, all right," replied the young man with red hair absently. Sally was
+looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his eyes were still
+busy.
+
+"I was surprised at his being here. He told me he meant to stay in
+Paris."
+
+There was a slight pause. Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
+nougat.
+
+"I say," observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating tones
+that vibrated with intense feeling, "that's the prettiest girl I've seen
+in my life!"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+At this frank revelation of the red-haired young man's personal
+opinions, Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased. A
+broad-minded girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on a
+matter of public interest. The young man's companion, on the other hand,
+was unmixedly shocked.
+
+"My dear fellow!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Oh, it's all right," said the red-haired young man, unmoved. "She can't
+understand. There isn't a bally soul in this dashed place that can speak
+a word of English. If I didn't happen to remember a few odd bits of
+French, I should have starved by this time. That girl," he went on,
+returning to the subject most imperatively occupying his mind, "is an
+absolute topper! I give you my solemn word I've never seen anybody to
+touch her. Look at those hands and feet. You don't get them outside
+France. Of course, her mouth is a bit wide," he said reluctantly.
+
+Sally's immobility, added to the other's assurance concerning the
+linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to
+reassure the dark man. He breathed again. At no period of his life
+had he ever behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness
+himself, but he had quailed at the idea of being associated even
+remotely with incorrectness in another. It had been a black moment for
+him when the red-haired young man had uttered those few kind words.
+
+"Still you ought to be careful," he said austerely.
+
+He looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the
+poodle and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and
+returned to the topic of the mysterious Scrymgeour.
+
+"How is Scrymgeour's dyspepsia?"
+
+The red-haired young man seemed but faintly interested in the
+vicissitudes of Scrymgeour's interior.
+
+"Do you notice the way her hair sort of curls over her ears?" he said.
+"Eh? Oh, pretty much the same, I think."
+
+"What hotel are you staying at?"
+
+"The Normandie."
+
+Sally, dipping into the box for another chocolate cream, gave an
+imperceptible start. She, too, was staying at the Normandie. She
+presumed that her admirer was a recent arrival, for she had seen nothing
+of him at the hotel.
+
+"The Normandie?" The dark man looked puzzled. "I know Roville pretty
+well by report, but I've never heard of any Hotel Normandie. Where is
+it?"
+
+"It's a little shanty down near the station. Not much of a place. Still,
+it's cheap, and the cooking's all right."
+
+His companion's bewilderment increased.
+
+"What on earth is a man like Scrymgeour doing there?" he said. Sally
+was conscious of an urgent desire to know more and more about the absent
+Scrymgeour. Constant repetition of his name had made him seem almost
+like an old friend. "If there's one thing he's fussy about..."
+
+"There are at least eleven thousand things he's fussy about,"
+interrupted the red-haired young man disapprovingly. "Jumpy old
+blighter!"
+
+"If there's one thing he's particular about, it's the sort of hotel
+he goes to. Ever since I've known him he has always wanted the best. I
+should have thought he would have gone to the Splendide." He mused on
+this problem in a dissatisfied sort of way for a moment, then seemed to
+reconcile himself to the fact that a rich man's eccentricities must be
+humoured. "I'd like to see him again. Ask him if he will dine with me at
+the Splendide to-night. Say eight sharp."
+
+Sally, occupied with her dogs, whose numbers had now been augmented by
+a white terrier with a black patch over its left eye, could not see
+the young man's face: but his voice, when he replied, told her that
+something was wrong. There was a false airiness in it.
+
+"Oh, Scrymgeour isn't in Roville."
+
+"No? Where is he?"
+
+"Paris, I believe."
+
+"What!" The dark man's voice sharpened. He sounded as though he were
+cross-examining a reluctant witness. "Then why aren't you there? What
+are you doing here? Did he give you a holiday?"
+
+"Yes, he did."
+
+"When do you rejoin him?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"What!"
+
+The red-haired young man's manner was not unmistakably dogged.
+
+"Well, if you want to know," he said, "the old blighter fired me the day
+before yesterday."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+There was a shuffling of sand as the dark man sprang up. Sally, intent
+on the drama which was unfolding itself beside her, absent-mindedly gave
+the poodle a piece of nougat which should by rights have gone to the
+terrier. She shot a swift glance sideways, and saw the dark man standing
+in an attitude rather reminiscent of the stern father of melodrama about
+to drive his erring daughter out into the snow. The red-haired young
+man, outwardly stolid, was gazing before him down the beach at a fat
+bather in an orange suit who, after six false starts, was now actually
+in the water, floating with the dignity of a wrecked balloon.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," demanded the dark man, "that, after all the
+trouble the family took to get you what was practically a sinecure
+with endless possibilities if you only behaved yourself, you have
+deliberately thrown away..." A despairing gesture completed the
+sentence. "Good God, you're hopeless!"
+
+The red-haired young man made no reply. He continued to gaze down the
+beach. Of all outdoor sports, few are more stimulating than watching
+middle-aged Frenchmen bathe. Drama, action, suspense, all are here. From
+the first stealthy testing of the water with an apprehensive toe to the
+final seal-like plunge, there is never a dull moment. And apart from the
+excitement of the thing, judging it from a purely aesthetic standpoint,
+his must be a dull soul who can fail to be uplifted by the spectacle of
+a series of very stout men with whiskers, seen in tight bathing suits
+against a background of brightest blue. Yet the young man with red hair,
+recently in the employment of Mr. Scrymgeour, eyed this free circus
+without any enjoyment whatever.
+
+"It's maddening! What are you going to do? What do you expect us to do?
+Are we to spend our whole lives getting you positions which you won't
+keep? I can tell you we're... it's monstrous! It's sickening! Good God!"
+
+And with these words the dark man, apparently feeling, as Sally had
+sometimes felt in the society of her brother Fillmore, the futility of
+mere language, turned sharply and stalked away up the beach, the dignity
+of his exit somewhat marred a moment later by the fact of his straw hat
+blowing off and being trodden on by a passing child.
+
+He left behind him the sort of electric calm which follows the falling
+of a thunderbolt; that stunned calm through which the air seems still to
+quiver protestingly. How long this would have lasted one cannot say:
+for towards the end of the first minute it was shattered by a purely
+terrestrial uproar. With an abruptness heralded only by one short, low
+gurgling snarl, there sprang into being the prettiest dog fight that
+Roville had seen that season.
+
+It was the terrier with the black patch who began it. That was Sally's
+opinion: and such, one feels, will be the verdict of history. His best
+friend, anxious to make out a case for him, could not have denied that
+he fired the first gun of the campaign. But we must be just. The fault
+was really Sally's. Absorbed in the scene which had just concluded and
+acutely inquisitive as to why the shadowy Scrymgeour had seen fit to
+dispense with the red-haired young man's services, she had thrice in
+succession helped the poodle out of his turn. The third occasion was too
+much for the terrier.
+
+There is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the
+average mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast
+clashing of the elements. It seems so outside one's jurisdiction. One is
+oppressed with a sense of the futility of interference. And this was no
+ordinary dog fight. It was a stunning mêlée, which would have excited
+favourable comment even among the blasé residents of a negro quarter or
+the not easily-pleased critics of a Lancashire mining-village. From all
+over the beach dogs of every size, breed, and colour were racing to the
+scene: and while some of these merely remained in the ringside seats
+and barked, a considerable proportion immediately started fighting one
+another on general principles, well content to be in action without
+bothering about first causes. The terrier had got the poodle by the
+left hind-leg and was restating his war-aims. The raffish mongrel
+was apparently endeavouring to fletcherize a complete stranger of the
+Sealyham family.
+
+Sally was frankly unequal to the situation, as were the entire crowd of
+spectators who had come galloping up from the water's edge. She had been
+paralysed from the start. Snarling bundles bumped against her legs and
+bounced away again, but she made no move. Advice in fluent French rent
+the air. Arms waved, and well-filled bathing suits leaped up and down.
+But nobody did anything practical until in the centre of the theatre of
+war there suddenly appeared the red-haired young man.
+
+The only reason why dog fights do not go on for ever is that Providence
+has decided that on each such occasion there shall always be among those
+present one Master Mind; one wizard who, whatever his shortcomings in
+other battles of life, is in this single particular sphere competent and
+dominating. At Roville-sur-Mer it was the red-haired young man. His dark
+companion might have turned from him in disgust: his services might not
+have seemed worth retaining by the haughty Scrymgeour: he might be a
+pain in the neck to "the family"; but he did know how to stop a dog
+fight. From the first moment of his intervention calm began to steal
+over the scene. He had the same effect on the almost inextricably
+entwined belligerents as, in mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail, sliding
+down the sunbeam, used to have on battling knights. He did not look like
+a dove of peace, but the most captious could not have denied that he
+brought home the goods. There was a magic in his soothing hands, a
+spell in his voice: and in a shorter time than one would have believed
+possible dog after dog had been sorted out and calmed down; until
+presently all that was left of Armageddon was one solitary small Scotch
+terrier, thoughtfully licking a chewed leg. The rest of the combatants,
+once more in their right mind and wondering what all the fuss was about,
+had been captured and haled away in a whirl of recrimination by voluble
+owners.
+
+Having achieved this miracle, the young man turned to Sally. Gallant,
+one might say reckless, as he had been a moment before, he now gave
+indications of a rather pleasing shyness. He braced himself with that
+painful air of effort which announces to the world that an Englishman is
+about to speak a language other than his own.
+
+"J'espère," he said, having swallowed once or twice to brace himself up
+for the journey through the jungle of a foreign tongue, "J'espère que
+vous n'êtes pas--oh, dammit, what's the word--J'espère que vous n'êtes
+pas blessée?"
+
+"Blessée?"
+
+"Yes, blessée. Wounded. Hurt, don't you know. Bitten. Oh, dash it.
+J'espère..."
+
+"Oh, bitten!" said Sally, dimpling. "Oh, no, thanks very much. I wasn't
+bitten. And I think it was awfully brave of you to save all our lives."
+
+The compliment seemed to pass over the young man's head. He stared at
+Sally with horrified eyes. Over his amiable face there swept a vivid
+blush. His jaw dropped.
+
+"Oh, my sainted aunt!" he ejaculated.
+
+Then, as if the situation was too much for him and flight the only
+possible solution, he spun round and disappeared at a walk so rapid that
+it was almost a run. Sally watched him go and was sorry that he had torn
+himself away. She still wanted to know why Scrymgeour had fired him.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Bedtime at Roville is an hour that seems to vary according to one's
+proximity to the sea. The gilded palaces along the front keep deplorable
+hours, polluting the night air till dawn with indefatigable jazz: but at
+the pensions of the economical like the Normandie, early to bed is the
+rule. True, Jules, the stout young native who combined the offices of
+night-clerk and lift attendant at that establishment, was on duty in the
+hall throughout the night, but few of the Normandie's patrons made use
+of his services.
+
+Sally, entering shortly before twelve o'clock on the night of the day
+on which the dark man, the red-haired young man, and their friend
+Scrymgeour had come into her life, found the little hall dim and silent.
+Through the iron cage of the lift a single faint bulb glowed: another,
+over the desk in the far corner, illuminated the upper half of Jules,
+slumbering in a chair. Jules seemed to Sally to be on duty in some
+capacity or other all the time. His work, like women's, was never done.
+He was now restoring his tissues with a few winks of much-needed beauty
+sleep. Sally, who had been to the Casino to hear the band and afterwards
+had strolled on the moonlit promenade, had a guilty sense of intrusion.
+
+As she stood there, reluctant to break in on Jules' rest--for her
+sympathetic heart, always at the disposal of the oppressed, had long
+ached for this overworked peon--she was relieved to hear footsteps in
+the street outside, followed by the opening of the front door. If Jules
+would have had to wake up anyway, she felt her sense of responsibility
+lessened. The door, having opened, closed again with a bang. Jules
+stirred, gurgled, blinked, and sat up, and Sally, turning, perceived
+that the new arrival was the red-haired young man.
+
+"Oh, good evening," said Sally welcomingly.
+
+The young man stopped, and shuffled uncomfortably. The morning's
+happenings were obviously still green in his memory. He had either not
+ceased blushing since their last meeting or he was celebrating their
+reunion by beginning to blush again: for his face was a familiar
+scarlet.
+
+"Er--good evening," he said, disentangling his feet, which, in the
+embarrassment of the moment, had somehow got coiled up together.
+
+"Or bon soir, I suppose you would say," murmured Sally.
+
+The young man acknowledged receipt of this thrust by dropping his hat
+and tripping over it as he stooped to pick it up.
+
+Jules, meanwhile, who had been navigating in a sort of somnambulistic
+trance in the neighbourhood of the lift, now threw back the cage with a
+rattle.
+
+"It's a shame to have woken you up," said Sally, commiseratingly,
+stepping in.
+
+Jules did not reply, for the excellent reason that he had not been
+woken up. Constant practice enabled him to do this sort of work without
+breaking his slumber. His brain, if you could call it that, was working
+automatically. He had shut up the gate with a clang and was tugging
+sluggishly at the correct rope, so that the lift was going slowly up
+instead of retiring down into the basement, but he was not awake.
+
+Sally and the red-haired young man sat side by side on the small seat,
+watching their conductor's efforts. After the first spurt, conversation
+had languished. Sally had nothing of immediate interest to say, and her
+companion seemed to be one of these strong, silent men you read about.
+Only a slight snore from Jules broke the silence.
+
+At the third floor Sally leaned forward and prodded Jules in the lower
+ribs. All through her stay at Roville, she had found in dealing with the
+native population that actions spoke louder than words. If she wanted
+anything in a restaurant or at a shop, she pointed; and, when she wished
+the lift to stop, she prodded the man in charge. It was a system worth a
+dozen French conversation books.
+
+Jules brought the machine to a halt: and it was at this point that
+he should have done the one thing connected with his professional
+activities which he did really well--the opening, to wit, of the iron
+cage. There are ways of doing this. Jules' was the right way. He was
+accustomed to do it with a flourish, and generally remarked "V'la!" in
+a modest but self-congratulatory voice as though he would have liked
+to see another man who could have put through a job like that. Jules'
+opinion was that he might not be much to look at, but that he could open
+a lift door.
+
+To-night, however, it seemed as if even this not very exacting feat was
+beyond his powers. Instead of inserting his key in the lock, he stood
+staring in an attitude of frozen horror. He was a man who took most
+things in life pretty seriously, and whatever was the little difficulty
+just now seemed to have broken him all up.
+
+"There appears," said Sally, turning to her companion, "to be a hitch.
+Would you mind asking what's the matter? I don't know any French myself
+except 'oo la la!'"
+
+The young man, thus appealed to, nerved himself to the task. He eyed the
+melancholy Jules doubtfully, and coughed in a strangled sort of way.
+
+"Oh, esker... esker vous..."
+
+"Don't weaken," said Sally. "I think you've got him going."
+
+"Esker vous... Pourquoi vous ne... I mean ne vous... that is to say,
+quel est le raison..."
+
+He broke off here, because at this point Jules began to explain. He
+explained very rapidly and at considerable length. The fact that neither
+of his hearers understood a word of what he was saying appeared not
+to have impressed itself upon him. Or, if he gave a thought to it,
+he dismissed the objection as trifling. He wanted to explain, and he
+explained. Words rushed from him like water from a geyser. Sounds which
+you felt you would have been able to put a meaning to if he had detached
+them from the main body and repeated them slowly, went swirling down the
+stream and were lost for ever.
+
+"Stop him!" said Sally firmly.
+
+The red-haired young man looked as a native of Johnstown might have
+looked on being requested to stop that city's celebrated flood.
+
+"Stop him?"
+
+"Yes. Blow a whistle or something."
+
+Out of the depths of the young man's memory there swam to the surface
+a single word--a word which he must have heard somewhere or read
+somewhere: a legacy, perhaps, from long-vanished school-days.
+
+"Zut!" he barked, and instantaneously Jules turned himself off at the
+main. There was a moment of dazed silence, such as might occur in a
+boiler-factory if the works suddenly shut down.
+
+"Quick! Now you've got him!" cried Sally. "Ask him what he's talking
+about--if he knows, which I doubt--and tell him to speak slowly. Then we
+shall get somewhere."
+
+The young man nodded intelligently. The advice was good.
+
+"Lentement," he said. "Parlez lentement. Pas si--you know what I
+mean--pas si dashed vite!"
+
+"Ah-a-ah!" cried Jules, catching the idea on the fly. "Lentement. Ah,
+oui, lentement."
+
+There followed a lengthy conversation which, while conveying nothing to
+Sally, seemed intelligible to the red-haired linguist.
+
+"The silly ass," he was able to announce some few minutes later, "has
+made a bloomer. Apparently he was half asleep when we came in, and he
+shoved us into the lift and slammed the door, forgetting that he had
+left the keys on the desk."
+
+"I see," said Sally. "So we're shut in?"
+
+"I'm afraid so. I wish to goodness," said the young man, "I knew French
+well. I'd curse him with some vim and not a little animation, the chump!
+I wonder what 'blighter' is in French," he said, meditating.
+
+"It's the merest suggestion," said Sally, "but oughtn't we to do
+something?"
+
+"What could we do?"
+
+"Well, for one thing, we might all utter a loud yell. It would scare
+most of the people in the hotel to death, but there might be a survivor
+or two who would come and investigate and let us out."
+
+"What a ripping idea!" said the young man, impressed.
+
+"I'm glad you like it. Now tell him the main out-line, or he'll think
+we've gone mad."
+
+The young man searched for words, and eventually found some which
+expressed his meaning lamely but well enough to cause Jules to nod in a
+depressed sort of way.
+
+"Fine!" said Sally. "Now, all together at the word 'three.'
+One--two--Oh, poor darling!" she broke off. "Look at him!"
+
+In the far corner of the lift, the emotional Jules was sobbing silently
+into the bunch of cotton-waste which served him in the office of a
+pocket-handkerchief. His broken-hearted gulps echoed hollowly down the
+shaft.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+In these days of cheap books of instruction on every subject under the
+sun, we most of us know how to behave in the majority of life's little
+crises. We have only ourselves to blame if we are ignorant of what to
+do before the doctor comes, of how to make a dainty winter coat for baby
+out of father's last year's under-vest and of the best method of coping
+with the cold mutton. But nobody yet has come forward with practical
+advice as to the correct method of behaviour to be adopted when
+a lift-attendant starts crying. And Sally and her companion, as a
+consequence, for a few moments merely stared at each other helplessly.
+
+"Poor darling!" said Sally, finding speech. "Ask him what's the matter."
+
+The young man looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"You know," he said, "I don't enjoy chatting with this blighter. I mean
+to say, it's a bit of an effort. I don't know why it is, but talking
+French always makes me feel as if my nose were coming off. Couldn't we
+just leave him to have his cry out by himself?"
+
+"The idea!" said Sally. "Have you no heart? Are you one of those fiends
+in human shape?"
+
+He turned reluctantly to Jules, and paused to overhaul his vocabulary.
+
+"You ought to be thankful for this chance," said Sally. "It's the only
+real way of learning French, and you're getting a lesson for nothing.
+What did he say then?"
+
+"Something about losing something, it seemed to me. I thought I caught
+the word perdu."
+
+"But that means a partridge, doesn't it? I'm sure I've seen it on the
+menus."
+
+"Would he talk about partridges at a time like this?"
+
+"He might. The French are extraordinary people."
+
+"Well, I'll have another go at him. But he's a difficult chap to chat
+with. If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of goes off like
+a rocket." He addressed another question to the sufferer, and listened
+attentively to the voluble reply.
+
+"Oh!" he said with sudden enlightenment. "Your job?" He turned to Sally.
+"I got it that time," he said. "The trouble is, he says, that if we yell
+and rouse the house, we'll get out all right, but he will lose his job,
+because this is the second time this sort of thing has happened, and
+they warned him last time that once more would mean the push."
+
+"Then we mustn't dream of yelling," said Sally, decidedly. "It means
+a pretty long wait, you know. As far as I can gather, there's just a
+chance of somebody else coming in later, in which case he could let
+us out. But it's doubtful. He rather thinks that everybody has gone to
+roost."
+
+"Well, we must try it. I wouldn't think of losing the poor man his job.
+Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then we'll just
+sit and amuse ourselves till something happens. We've lots to talk
+about. We can tell each other the story of our lives."
+
+Jules, cheered by his victims' kindly forbearance, lowered the car to
+the ground floor, where, after a glance of infinite longing at the keys
+on the distant desk, the sort of glance which Moses must have cast at
+the Promised Land from the summit of Mount Pisgah, he sagged down in a
+heap and resumed his slumbers. Sally settled herself as comfortably as
+possible in her corner.
+
+"You'd better smoke," she said. "It will be something to do."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And now," said Sally, "tell me why Scrymgeour fired you."
+
+Little by little, under the stimulating influence of this nocturnal
+adventure, the red-haired young man had lost that shy confusion which
+had rendered him so ill at ease when he had encountered Sally in the
+hall of the hotel; but at this question embarrassment gripped him once
+more. Another of those comprehensive blushes of his raced over his face,
+and he stammered.
+
+"I say, I'm glad... I'm fearfully sorry about that, you know!"
+
+"About Scrymgeour?"
+
+"You know what I mean. I mean, about making such a most ghastly ass of
+myself this morning. I... I never dreamed you understood English."
+
+"Why, I didn't object. I thought you were very nice and complimentary.
+Of course, I don't know how many girls you've seen in your life, but..."
+
+"No, I say, don't! It makes me feel such a chump."
+
+"And I'm sorry about my mouth. It is wide. But I know you're a
+fair-minded man and realize that it isn't my fault."
+
+"Don't rub it in," pleaded the young man. "As a matter of fact, if you
+want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect. I think," he
+proceeded, a little feverishly, "that you are the most indescribable
+topper that ever..."
+
+"You were going to tell me about Scrymgeour," said Sally.
+
+The young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
+sleep-walking. Eloquence had carried him away.
+
+"Scrymgeour?" he said. "Oh, that would bore you."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally reprovingly. "Can't you realize that we're
+practically castaways on a desert island? There's nothing to do till
+to-morrow but talk about ourselves. I want to hear all about you,
+and then I'll tell you all about myself. If you feel diffident about
+starting the revelations, I'll begin. Better start with names. Mine is
+Sally Nicholas. What's yours?"
+
+"Mine? Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean."
+
+"I thought you would. I put it as clearly as I could. Well, what is it?"
+
+"Kemp."
+
+"And the first name?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said the young man, "I've always rather
+hushed up my first name, because when I was christened they worked a
+low-down trick on me!"
+
+"You can't shock me," said Sally, encouragingly. "My father's name was
+Ezekiel, and I've a brother who was christened Fillmore."
+
+Mr. Kemp brightened. "Well, mine isn't as bad as that... No, I don't
+mean that," he broke off apologetically. "Both awfully jolly names, of
+course..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+"Well, they called me Lancelot. And, of course, the thing is that I
+don't look like a Lancelot and never shall. My pals," he added in a more
+cheerful strain, "call me Ginger."
+
+"I don't blame them," said Sally.
+
+"Perhaps you wouldn't mind thinking of me as Ginger?'' suggested the
+young man diffidently.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's awfully good of you."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+Jules stirred in his sleep and grunted. No other sound came to disturb
+the stillness of the night.
+
+"You were going to tell me about yourself?" said Mr. Lancelot (Ginger)
+Kemp.
+
+"I'm going to tell you all about myself," said Sally, "not because I
+think it will interest you..."
+
+"Oh, it will!"
+
+"Not, I say, because I think it will interest you..."
+
+"It will, really."
+
+Sally looked at him coldly.
+
+"Is this a duet?" she inquired, "or have I the floor?"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry."
+
+"Not, I repeat for the third time, because I think It will interest you,
+but because if I do you won't have any excuse for not telling me your
+life-history, and you wouldn't believe how inquisitive I am. Well, in
+the first place, I live in America. I'm over here on a holiday. And it's
+the first real holiday I've had in three years--since I left home, in
+fact." Sally paused. "I ran away from home," she said.
+
+"Good egg!" said Ginger Kemp.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"I mean, quite right. I bet you were quite right."
+
+"When I say home," Sally went on, "it was only a sort of imitation
+home, you know. One of those just-as-good homes which are never as
+satisfactory as the real kind. My father and mother both died a good
+many years ago. My brother and I were dumped down on the reluctant
+doorstep of an uncle."
+
+"Uncles," said Ginger Kemp, feelingly, "are the devil. I've got an...
+but I'm interrupting you."
+
+"My uncle was our trustee. He had control of all my brother's money
+and mine till I was twenty-one. My brother was to get his when he was
+twenty-five. My poor father trusted him blindly, and what do you think
+happened?"
+
+"Good Lord! The blighter embezzled the lot?"
+
+"No, not a cent. Wasn't it extraordinary! Have you ever heard of a
+blindly trusted uncle who was perfectly honest? Well, mine was. But the
+trouble was that, while an excellent man to have looking after one's
+money, he wasn't a very lovable character. He was very hard. Hard!
+He was as hard as--well, nearly as hard as this seat. He hated poor
+Fill..."
+
+"Phil?"
+
+"I broke it to you just now that my brother's name was Fillmore."
+
+"Oh, your brother. Oh, ah, yes."
+
+"He was always picking on poor Fill. And I'm bound to say that Fill
+rather laid himself out as what you might call a pickee. He was always
+getting into trouble. One day, about three years ago, he was expelled
+from Harvard, and my uncle vowed he would have nothing more to do with
+him. So I said, if Fill left, I would leave. And, as this seemed to be
+my uncle's idea of a large evening, no objection was raised, and Fill
+and I departed. We went to New York, and there we've been ever since.
+About six months' ago Fill passed the twenty-five mark and collected his
+money, and last month I marched past the given point and got mine. So it
+all ends happily, you see. Now tell me about yourself."
+
+"But, I say, you know, dash it, you've skipped a lot. I mean to say, you
+must have had an awful time in New York, didn't you? How on earth did
+you get along?"
+
+"Oh, we found work. My brother tried one or two things, and finally
+became an assistant stage-manager with some theatre people. The only
+thing I could do, having been raised in enervating luxury, was ballroom
+dancing, so I ball-room danced. I got a job at a place in Broadway
+called 'The Flower Garden' as what is humorously called an
+'instructress,' as if anybody could 'instruct' the men who came there.
+One was lucky if one saved one's life and wasn't quashed to death."
+
+"How perfectly foul!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It was rather fun for a while. Still," said Sally,
+meditatively, "I'm not saying I could have held out much longer: I was
+beginning to give. I suppose I've been trampled underfoot by more fat
+men than any other girl of my age in America. I don't know why it was,
+but every man who came in who was a bit overweight seemed to make for me
+by instinct. That's why I like to sit on the sands here and watch
+these Frenchmen bathing. It's just heavenly to lie back and watch a two
+hundred and fifty pound man, coming along and feel that he isn't going
+to dance with me."
+
+"But, I say! How absolutely rotten it must have been for you!"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It's going to make me a very
+domesticated wife one of these days. You won't find me gadding about in
+gilded jazz-palaces! For me, a little place in the country somewhere,
+with my knitting and an Elsie book, and bed at half-past nine! And now
+tell me the story of your life. And make it long because I'm perfectly
+certain there's going to be no relief-expedition. I'm sure the last
+dweller under this roof came in years ago. We shall be here till
+morning."
+
+"I really think we had better shout, you know."
+
+"And lose Jules his job? Never!"
+
+"Well, of course, I'm sorry for poor old Jules' troubles, but I hate to
+think of you having to..."
+
+"Now get on with the story," said Sally.
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+
+Ginger Kemp exhibited some of the symptoms of a young bridegroom called
+upon at a wedding-breakfast to respond to the toast. He moved his feet
+restlessly and twisted his fingers.
+
+"I hate talking about myself, you know," he said.
+
+"So I supposed," said Sally. "That's why I gave you my autobiography
+first, to give you no chance of backing out. Don't be such a shrinking
+violet. We're all shipwrecked mariners here. I am intensely interested
+in your narrative. And, even if I wasn't, I'd much rather listen to it
+than to Jules' snoring."
+
+"He is snoring a bit, what? Does it annoy you? Shall I stir him?"
+
+"You seem to have an extraordinary brutal streak in your nature," said
+Sally. "You appear to think of nothing else but schemes for harassing
+poor Jules. Leave him alone for a second, and start telling me about
+yourself."
+
+"Where shall I start?"
+
+"Well, not with your childhood, I think. We'll skip that."
+
+"Well..." Ginger Kemp knitted his brow, searching for a dramatic
+opening. "Well, I'm more or less what you might call an orphan, like
+you. I mean to say, both my people are dead and all that sort of thing."
+
+"Thanks for explaining. That has made it quite clear."
+
+"I can't remember my mother. My father died when I was in my last
+year at Cambridge. I'd been having a most awfully good time at the
+'varsity,'" said Ginger, warming to his theme. "Not thick, you know, but
+good. I'd got my rugger and boxing blues and I'd just been picked for
+scrum-half for England against the North in the first trial match, and
+between ourselves it really did look as if I was more or less of a snip
+for my international."
+
+Sally gazed at him wide eyed.
+
+"Is that good or bad?" she asked.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Are you reciting a catalogue of your crimes, or do you expect me to get
+up and cheer? What is a rugger blue, to start with?"
+
+"Well, it's... it's a rugger blue, you know."
+
+"Oh, I see," said Sally. "You mean a rugger blue."
+
+"I mean to say, I played rugger--footer--that's to say, football--Rugby
+football--for Cambridge, against Oxford. I was scrum-half."
+
+"And what is a scrum-half?" asked Sally, patiently. "Yes, I know you're
+going to say it's a scrum-half, but can't you make it easier?"
+
+"The scrum-half," said Ginger, "is the half who works the scrum. He
+slings the pill out to the fly-half, who starts the three-quarters
+going. I don't know if you understand?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"It's dashed hard to explain," said Ginger Kemp, unhappily. "I mean,
+I don't think I've ever met anyone before who didn't know what a
+scrum-half was."
+
+"Well, I can see that it has something to do with football, so we'll
+leave it at that. I suppose it's something like our quarter-back. And
+what's an international?"
+
+"It's called getting your international when you play for England, you
+know. England plays Wales, France, Ireland, and Scotland. If it hadn't
+been for the smash, I think I should have played for England against
+Wales."
+
+"I see at last. What you're trying to tell me is that you were very good
+at football."
+
+Ginger Kemp blushed warmly.
+
+"Oh, I don't say that. England was pretty short of scrum-halves that
+year."
+
+"What a horrible thing to happen to a country! Still, you were likely
+to be picked on the All-England team when the smash came? What was the
+smash?"
+
+"Well, it turned out that the poor old pater hadn't left a penny. I
+never understood the process exactly, but I'd always supposed that we
+were pretty well off; and then it turned out that I hadn't anything at
+all. I'm bound to say it was a bit of a jar. I had to come down from
+Cambridge and go to work in my uncle's office. Of course, I made an
+absolute hash of it."
+
+"Why, of course?"
+
+"Well, I'm not a very clever sort of chap, you see. I somehow didn't
+seem able to grasp the workings. After about a year, my uncle, getting
+a bit fed-up, hoofed me out and got me a mastership at a school, and I
+made a hash of that. He got me one or two other jobs, and I made a hash
+of those."
+
+"You certainly do seem to be one of our most prominent young hashers!"
+gasped Sally.
+
+"I am," said Ginger, modestly.
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"And what about Scrymgeour?" Sally asked.
+
+"That was the last of the jobs," said Ginger. "Scrymgeour is a pompous
+old ass who thinks he's going to be Prime Minister some day. He's a big
+bug at the Bar and has just got into Parliament. My cousin used to devil
+for him. That's how I got mixed up with the blighter."
+
+"Your cousin used...? I wish you would talk English."
+
+"That was my cousin who was with me on the beach this morning."
+
+"And what did you say he used to do for Mr. Scrymgeour?"
+
+"Oh, it's called devilling. My cousin's at the Bar, too--one of our
+rising nibs, as a matter of fact..."
+
+"I thought he was a lawyer of some kind."
+
+"He's got a long way beyond it now, but when he started he used to devil
+for Scrymgeour--assist him, don't you know. His name's Carmyle, you
+know. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's rather a prominent johnny in his
+way. Bruce Carmyle, you know."
+
+"I haven't."
+
+"Well, he got me this job of secretary to Scrymgeour."
+
+"And why did Mr. Scrymgeour fire you?"
+
+Ginger Kemp's face darkened. He frowned. Sally, watching him, felt that
+she had been right when she had guessed that he had a temper. She liked
+him none the worse for it. Mild men did not appeal to her.
+
+"I don't know if you're fond of dogs?" said Ginger.
+
+"I used to be before this morning," said Sally. "And I suppose I shall
+be again in time. For the moment I've had what you might call rather a
+surfeit of dogs. But aren't you straying from the point? I asked you why
+Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed you."
+
+"I'm telling you."
+
+"I'm glad of that. I didn't know."
+
+"The old brute," said Ginger, frowning again, "has a dog. A very jolly
+little spaniel. Great pal of mine. And Scrymgeour is the sort of fool
+who oughtn't to be allowed to own a dog. He's one of those asses who
+isn't fit to own a dog. As a matter of fact, of all the blighted,
+pompous, bullying, shrivelled-souled old devils..."
+
+"One moment," said Sally. "I'm getting an impression that you don't like
+Mr. Scrymgeour. Am I right?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"I thought so. Womanly intuition! Go on."
+
+"He used to insist on the poor animal doing tricks. I hate seeing a
+dog do tricks. Dogs loathe it, you know. They're frightfully sensitive.
+Well, Scrymgeour used to make this spaniel of his do tricks--fool-things
+that no self-respecting dogs would do: and eventually poor old Billy got
+fed up and jibbed. He was too polite to bite, but he sort of shook his
+head and crawled under a chair. You'd have thought anyone would have
+let it go at that, but would old Scrymgeour? Not a bit of it! Of all the
+poisonous..."
+
+"Yes, I know. Go on."
+
+"Well, the thing ended in the blighter hauling him out from under the
+chair and getting more and more shirty, until finally he laid into him
+with a stick. That is to say," said Ginger, coldly accurate, "he started
+laying into him with a stick." He brooded for a moment with knit brows.
+"A spaniel, mind you! Can you imagine anyone beating a spaniel? It's
+like hitting a little girl. Well, he's a fairly oldish man, you know,
+and that hampered me a bit: but I got hold of the stick and broke it
+into about eleven pieces, and by great good luck it was a stick he
+happened to value rather highly. It had a gold knob and had been
+presented to him by his constituents or something. I minced it up
+a goodish bit, and then I told him a fair amount about himself. And
+then--well, after that he shot me out, and I came here."
+
+Sally did not speak for a moment.
+
+"You were quite right," she said at last, in a sober voice that had
+nothing in it of her customary flippancy. She paused again. "And what
+are you going to do now?" she said.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You'll get something?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall get something, I suppose. The family will be pretty
+sick, of course."
+
+"For goodness' sake! Why do you bother about the family?" Sally burst
+out. She could not reconcile this young man's flabby dependence on his
+family with the enterprise and vigour which he had shown in his dealings
+with the unspeakable Scrymgeour. Of course, he had been brought up to
+look on himself as a rich man's son and appeared to have drifted as such
+young men are wont to do; but even so... "The whole trouble with you,"
+she said, embarking on a subject on which she held strong views, "is
+that..."
+
+Her harangue was interrupted by what--at the Normandie, at one o'clock
+in the morning--practically amounted to a miracle. The front door of
+the hotel opened, and there entered a young man in evening dress.
+Such persons were sufficiently rare at the Normandie, which catered
+principally for the staid and middle-aged, and this youth's presence was
+due, if one must pause to explain it, to the fact that, in the middle
+of his stay at Roville, a disastrous evening at the Casino had so
+diminished his funds that he had been obliged to make a hurried shift
+from the Hotel Splendide to the humbler Normandie. His late appearance
+to-night was caused by the fact that he had been attending a dance
+at the Splendide, principally in the hope of finding there some
+kind-hearted friend of his prosperity from whom he might borrow.
+
+A rapid-fire dialogue having taken place between Jules and the newcomer,
+the keys were handed through the cage, the door opened and the lift was
+set once more in motion. And a few minutes later, Sally, suddenly aware
+of an overpowering sleepiness, had switched off her light and jumped
+into bed. Her last waking thought was a regret that she had not been
+able to speak at length to Mr. Ginger Kemp on the subject of enterprise,
+and resolve that the address should be delivered at the earliest
+opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. THE DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+By six o'clock on the following evening, however, Sally had been forced
+to the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through life as
+best he could without the assistance of her contemplated remarks: for
+she had seen nothing of him all day and in another hour she would have
+left Roville on the seven-fifteen express which was to take her to
+Paris, en route for Cherbourg and the liner whereon she had booked her
+passage for New York.
+
+It was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,
+having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of
+an amiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale. She
+disliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted him. Like
+so many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a great degree
+the quality of interesting herself in--or, as her brother Fillmore
+preferred to put it, messing about with--the private affairs of others.
+Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom it was worth while to give a
+friendly shove on the right path; and it was with much gratification,
+therefore, that, having entered the Casino, she perceived a flaming
+head shining through the crowd which had gathered at one of the
+roulette-tables.
+
+There are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer. The one on the Promenade goes
+in mostly for sea-air and a mild game called boule. It is the big Casino
+Municipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway station which is
+the haunt of the earnest gambler who means business; and it was plain to
+Sally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not only meant business
+but was getting results. Ginger was going extremely strong. He was
+entrenched behind an opulent-looking mound of square counters: and, even
+as Sally looked, a wooden-faced croupier shoved a further instalment
+across the table to him at the end of his long rake.
+
+"Epatant!" murmured a wistful man at Sally's side, removing an elbow
+from her ribs in order the better to gesticulate. Sally, though no French
+scholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified. The entire crowd
+seemed to be startled and gratified. There is undoubtedly a
+certain altruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continental
+roulette-table. They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeing
+somebody else win.
+
+The croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheel
+a twist with his right, and silence fell again. Sally, who had shifted
+to a spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was now able
+to see Ginger's face, and as she saw it she gave an involuntary laugh.
+He looked exactly like a dog at a rat-hole. His hair seemed to bristle
+with excitement. One could almost fancy that his ears were pricked up.
+
+In the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of the
+wheel, Sally's laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness. It had a
+marked effect on all those within hearing. There is something almost of
+religious ecstasy in the deportment of the spectators at a table where
+anyone is having a run of luck at roulette, and if she had guffawed in
+a cathedral she could not have caused a more pained consternation. The
+earnest worshippers gazed at her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turning
+with a start, saw her and jumped up. As he did so, the ball fell with a
+rattling click into a red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased to
+revolve and it was seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrong
+colour, a shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that which
+convulses the penitents' bench at a negro revival meeting. More
+glances of reproach were cast at Sally. It was generally felt that her
+injudicious behaviour had changed Ginger's luck.
+
+The only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself.
+He gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his
+way to where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of the
+crowd as a pariah. There was universal regret that he had decided to
+call it a day. It was to the spectators as though a star had suddenly
+walked off the stage in the middle of his big scene; and not even a loud
+and violent quarrel which sprang up at this moment between two excitable
+gamblers over a disputed five-franc counter could wholly console them.
+
+"I say," said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd,
+"this is topping, meeting you like this. I've been looking for you
+everywhere."
+
+"It's funny you didn't find me, then, for that's where I've been. I was
+looking for you."
+
+"No, really?" Ginger seemed pleased. He led the way to the quiet
+ante-room outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner.
+It was pleasant here, with nobody near except the gorgeously uniformed
+attendant over by the door. "That was awfully good of you."
+
+"I felt I must have a talk with you before my train went."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"Your train? What do you mean?"
+
+"The puff-puff," explained Sally. "I'm leaving to-night, you know."
+
+"Leaving?" Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of the
+congregation of which Sally had just ceased to be a member. "You don't
+mean leaving? You're not going away from Roville?"
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why? Where are you going?"
+
+"Back to America. My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow."
+
+"Oh, my aunt!"
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally, touched by his concern. She was a warm-hearted
+girl and liked being appreciated. "But..."
+
+"I say..." Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him at
+the uniformed official, who was regarding their tête-à-tête with the
+indulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. "I
+say, look here, will you marry me?"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement. Ginger, she
+had realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but
+she had not expected him to be as surprising as this.
+
+"Marry you!"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+"Well, yes, I suppose I do. You allude to the holy state. Yes, I know
+what you mean."
+
+"Then how about it?"
+
+Sally began to regain her composure. Her sense of humour was tickled.
+She looked at Ginger gravely. He did not meet her eye, but continued to
+drink in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by
+the romance of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under his
+breath. The official could not hear what they were saying, and would not
+have been able to understand it even if he could have heard; but he was
+an expert in the language of the eyes.
+
+"But isn't this--don't think I am trying to make difficulties--isn't
+this a little sudden?"
+
+"It's got to be sudden," said Ginger Kemp, complainingly. "I thought you
+were going to be here for weeks."
+
+"But, my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practically
+strangers?" She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the uniformed
+official to heave a tender sigh. "I see what has happened," she said.
+"You're mistaking me for some other girl, some girl you know really
+well, and were properly introduced to. Take a good look at me, and
+you'll see."
+
+"If I take a good look at you," said Ginger, feverishly, "I'm dashed if
+I'll answer for the consequences."
+
+"And this is the man I was going to lecture on 'Enterprise.'"
+
+"You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, dash it!" said Ginger,
+his gaze still riveted on the official by the door "I dare say it is
+sudden. I can't help that. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,
+and there you are!"
+
+"But..."
+
+"Now, look here, I know I'm not much of a chap and all that, but...
+well, I've just won the deuce of a lot of money in there..."
+
+"Would you buy me with your gold?"
+
+"I mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I've
+made an infernal hash of everything I've tried up till now, but there
+must be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I'd have a
+goodish stab at it. I mean to say, with you to buck me up and so forth,
+don't you know. Well, I mean..."
+
+"Has it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?"
+
+"Oh, golly! Are you?"
+
+For the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in his
+eyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out of
+her. Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.
+
+"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am," she said soberly.
+
+Ginger Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.
+
+"Oh, well, that's torn it!" he said at last.
+
+Sally was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse. There was pity in
+it, but amusement too. The emotion, though she did not recognize it, was
+maternal. Mothers, listening to their children pleading with engaging
+absurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow, feel that
+same wavering between tears and laughter. Sally wanted to pick Ginger up
+and kiss him. The one thing she could not do was to look on him, sorry
+as she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.
+
+"You don't really mean it, you know."
+
+"Don't I!" said Ginger, hollowly. "Oh, don't I!"
+
+"You can't! There isn't such a thing in real life as love at first
+sight. Love's a thing that comes when you know a person well and..."
+She paused. It had just occurred to her that she was hardly the girl to
+lecture in this strain. Her love for Gerald Foster had been sufficiently
+sudden, even instantaneous. What did she know of Gerald except that
+she loved him? They had become engaged within two weeks of their first
+meeting. She found this recollection damping to her eloquence, and ended
+by saying tamely:
+
+"It's ridiculous."
+
+Ginger had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.
+
+"I couldn't have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway," he
+said, sombrely. "I'm not much of a chap."
+
+It was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sally
+had been longing to find. She welcomed the chance of continuing the
+conversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.
+
+"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, seizing
+the opportunity offered by this display of humility. "I've been looking
+for you all day to go on with what I was starting to say in the lift
+last night when we were interrupted. Do you mind if I talk to you like
+an aunt--or a sister, suppose we say? Really, the best plan would be for
+you to adopt me as an honorary sister. What do you think?"
+
+Ginger did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.
+
+"Because I really do take a tremendous interest in you."
+
+Ginger brightened. "That's awfully good of you."
+
+"I'm going to speak words of wisdom. Ginger, why don't you brace up?"
+
+"Brace up?"
+
+"Yes, stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square your
+elbows, and really amount to something. Why do you simply flop about and
+do nothing and leave everything to what you call 'the family'? Why do
+you have to be helped all the time? Why don't you help yourself? Why do
+you have to have jobs found for you? Why don't you rush out and get one?
+Why do you have to worry about what, 'the family' thinks of you? Why
+don't you make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck,
+suddenly finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens,
+everybody else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke at
+one time or another. It's part of the fun. You'll never get anywhere
+by letting yourself be picked up by the family like... like a floppy
+Newfoundland puppy and dumped down in any old place that happens to
+suit them. A job's a thing you've got to choose for yourself and get for
+yourself. Think what you can do--there must be something--and then go
+at it with a snort and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take
+a joke. You've managed to collect some money. It will give you time
+to look round. And, when you've had a look round, do something! Try to
+realize you're alive, and try to imagine the family isn't!"
+
+Sally stopped and drew a deep breath. Ginger Kemp did not reply for a
+moment. He seemed greatly impressed.
+
+"When you talk quick," he said at length, in a serious meditative voice,
+"your nose sort of goes all squiggly. Ripping, it looks!"
+
+Sally uttered an indignant cry.
+
+"Do you mean to say you haven't been listening to a word I've been
+saying," she demanded.
+
+"Oh, rather! Oh, by Jove, yes."
+
+"Well, what did I say?"
+
+"You... er... And your eyes sort of shine, too."
+
+"Never mind my eyes. What did I say?"
+
+"You told me," said Ginger, on reflection, "to get a job."
+
+"Well, yes. I put it much better than that, but that's what it amounted
+to, I suppose. All right, then. I'm glad you..."
+
+Ginger was eyeing her with mournful devotion. "I say," he interrupted,
+"I wish you'd let me write to you. Letters, I mean, and all that. I have
+an idea it would kind of buck me up."
+
+"You won't have time for writing letters."
+
+"I'll have time to write them to you. You haven't an address or anything
+of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, so that I'd
+know where to write to."
+
+"I can give you an address which will always find me." She told him the
+number and street of Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house, and he wrote them
+down reverently on his shirt-cuff. "Yes, on second thoughts, do write,"
+she said. "Of course, I shall want to know how you've got on. I... oh,
+my goodness! That clock's not right?"
+
+"Just about. What time does your train go?"
+
+"Go! It's gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds." She made a
+rush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed official who
+had not been expecting this sudden activity. "Good-bye, Ginger. Write to
+me, and remember what I said."
+
+Ginger, alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question
+of physical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and they
+emerged together and started running down the square.
+
+"Stick it!" said Ginger, encouragingly. He was running easily and well,
+as becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his international
+at scrum-half.
+
+Sally saved her breath. The train was beginning to move slowly out of
+the station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform. Ginger dived
+for the nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in his
+arms, and flung her in. She landed squarely on the toes of a man who
+occupied the corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the window.
+Ginger, faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train as it
+gathered speed.
+
+"Ginger! My poor porter! Tip him. I forgot."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"And don't forget what I've been saying."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"Look after yourself and 'Death to the Family!'"
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+The train passed smoothly out of the station. Sally cast one last look
+back at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving a
+handkerchief. Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of the
+carriage.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said, breathlessly. "I hope I didn't hurt you."
+
+She found herself facing Ginger's cousin, the dark man of yesterday's
+episode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed
+by life's little surprises, but at the present moment he could not help
+feeling slightly dazed. He recognized Sally now as the French girl who
+had attracted his cousin Lancelot's notice on the beach. At least he had
+assumed that she was French, and it was startling to be addressed by
+her now in fluent English. How had she suddenly acquired this gift of
+tongues? And how on earth had she had time since yesterday, when he
+had been a total stranger to her, to become sufficiently intimate with
+Cousin Lancelot to be sprinting with him down station platforms and
+addressing him out of railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmyle
+was aware that most members of that sub-species of humanity, his
+cousin's personal friends, called him by that familiar--and, so Carmyle
+held, vulgar--nickname: but how had this girl got hold of it?
+
+If Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly have looked
+disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid sense of the
+proprieties a nasty jar. But as, panting and flushed from her run, she
+was prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived to smile.
+
+"Not at all," he said in answer to her question, though it was far from
+the truth. His left big toe was aching confoundedly. Even a girl with
+a foot as small as Sally's can make her presence felt on a man's toe if
+the scrum-half who is handling her aims well and uses plenty of vigour.
+
+"If you don't mind," said Sally, sitting down, "I think I'll breathe a
+little."
+
+She breathed. The train sped on.
+
+"Quite a close thing," said Bruce Carmyle, affably. The pain in his toe
+was diminishing. "You nearly missed it."
+
+"Yes. It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me. He throws very straight,
+doesn't he."
+
+"Tell me," said Carmyle, "how do you come to know my Cousin? On the
+beach yesterday morning..."
+
+"Oh, we didn't know each other then. But we were staying at the same
+hotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator together. That
+was when we really got acquainted."
+
+A waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English that
+dinner was served in the restaurant car. "Would you care for dinner?"
+
+"I'm starving," said Sally.
+
+She reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, for
+being so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance. This man was
+perfectly pleasant in spite of his grim exterior. She had decided by the
+time they had seated themselves at the table she liked him.
+
+At the table, however, Mr. Carmyle's manner changed for the worse. He
+lost his amiability. He was evidently a man who took his meals seriously
+and believed in treating waiters with severity. He shuddered austerely
+at a stain on the table-cloth, and then concentrated himself frowningly
+on the bill of fare. Sally, meanwhile, was establishing cosy relations
+with the much too friendly waiter, a cheerful old man who from the start
+seemed to have made up his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter.
+The waiter talked no English and Sally no French, but they were getting
+along capitally, when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving aside
+the servitor's light-hearted advice--at the Hotel Splendide the waiters
+never bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side of
+your face--gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of the
+travelling Briton. The waiter remarked, "Boum!" in a pleased sort of
+way, and vanished.
+
+"Nice old man!" said Sally.
+
+"Infernally familiar!" said Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Sally perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did not
+see eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived from
+any discussion centring about him. She changed the subject. She was not
+liking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few minutes ago, but
+it was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she tried to like him as
+much as she could.
+
+"By the way," she said, "my name is Nicholas. I always think it's a good
+thing to start with names, don't you?"
+
+"Mine..."
+
+"Oh, I know yours. Ginger--Mr. Kemp told me."
+
+Mr. Carmyle, who since the waiter's departure, had been thawing,
+stiffened again at the mention of Ginger.
+
+"Indeed?" he said, coldly. "Apparently you got intimate."
+
+Sally did not like his tone. He seemed to be criticizing her, and she
+resented criticism from a stranger. Her eyes opened wide and she looked
+dangerously across the table.
+
+"Why 'apparently'? I told you that we had got intimate, and I explained
+how. You can't stay shut up in an elevator half the night with anybody
+without getting to know him. I found Mr. Kemp very pleasant."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"And very interesting."
+
+Mr. Carmyle raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Would you call him interesting?"
+
+"I did call him interesting." Sally was beginning to feel the
+exhilaration of battle. Men usually made themselves extremely agreeable
+to her, and she reacted belligerently under the stiff unfriendliness
+which had come over her companion in the last few minutes.
+
+"He told me all about himself."
+
+"And you found that interesting?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well..." A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle's dark
+face. "My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt--he used to
+play football well, and I understand that he is a capable amateur
+pugilist--but I should not have supposed him entertaining. We find him a
+little dull."
+
+"I thought it was only royalty that called themselves 'we.'"
+
+"I meant myself--and the rest of the family."
+
+The mention of the family was too much for Sally. She had to stop
+talking in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.
+
+"Mr. Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour," she went on at length.
+
+Bruce Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French bread
+which the waiter had placed on the table.
+
+"Indeed?" he said. "He has an engaging lack of reticence."
+
+The waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.
+
+"V'la!" he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who has
+successfully performed a difficult conjuring trick. He smiled at Sally
+expectantly, as though confident of applause from this section of his
+audience at least. But Sally's face was set and rigid. She had been
+snubbed, and the sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.
+
+"I think Mr. Kemp had hard luck," she said.
+
+"If you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter."
+
+Mr. Carmyle's attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but she
+was a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not to be
+discussed with strangers, however prepossessing.
+
+"He was quite in the right. Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog..."
+
+"I've heard the details."
+
+"Oh, I didn't know that. Well, don't you agree with me, then?"
+
+"I do not. A man who would throw away an excellent position simply
+because..."
+
+"Oh, well, if that's your view, I suppose it is useless to talk about
+it."
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Still, there's no harm in asking what you propose to do about
+Gin--about Mr. Kemp."
+
+Mr. Carmyle became more glacial.
+
+"I'm afraid I cannot discuss..."
+
+Sally's quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got the
+better of her.
+
+"Oh, for goodness' sake," she snapped, "do try to be human, and don't
+always be snubbing people. You remind me of one of those portraits of
+men in the eighteenth century, with wooden faces, who look out of
+heavy gold frames at you with fishy eyes as if you were a regrettable
+incident."
+
+"Rosbif," said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly beside
+them as if he had popped up out of a trap.
+
+Bruce Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely. Sally who was in the
+mood when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, but
+was full of battle at the moment, sat in silence.
+
+"I am sorry," said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, "if my eyes are fishy. The
+fact has not been called to my attention before."
+
+"I suppose you never had any sisters," said Sally. "They would have told
+you."
+
+Mr. Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till the
+waiter had brought the coffee.
+
+"I think," said Sally, getting up, "I'll be going now. I don't seem to
+want any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say something rude. I thought
+I might be able to put in a good word for Mr. Kemp and save him from
+being massacred, but apparently it's no use. Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, and
+thank you for giving me dinner."
+
+She made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle's indignant,
+yet fascinated, gaze. Strange emotions were stirring in Mr. Carmyle's
+bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD
+
+
+
+Some few days later, owing to the fact that the latter, being
+preoccupied, did not see him first, Bruce Carmyle met his cousin
+Lancelot in Piccadilly. They had returned by different routes from
+Roville, and Ginger would have preferred the separation to continue. He
+was hurrying on with a nod, when Carmyle stopped him.
+
+"Just the man I wanted to see," he observed.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" said Ginger, without joy.
+
+"I was thinking of calling at your club."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes. Cigarette?"
+
+Ginger peered at the proffered case with the vague suspicion of the man
+who has allowed himself to be lured on to the platform and is accepting
+a card from the conjurer. He felt bewildered. In all the years of their
+acquaintance he could not recall another such exhibition of geniality on
+his cousin's part. He was surprised, indeed, at Mr. Carmyle's speaking
+to him at all, for the affaire Scrymgeour remained an un-healed wound,
+and the Family, Ginger knew, were even now in session upon it.
+
+"Been back in London long?"
+
+"Day or two."
+
+"I heard quite by accident that you had returned and that you were
+staying at the club. By the way, thank you for introducing me to Miss
+Nicholas."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"What!"
+
+"I was in that compartment, you know, at Roville Station. You threw
+her right on top of me. We agreed to consider that an introduction. An
+attractive girl."
+
+Bruce Carmyle had not entirely made up his mind regarding Sally, but on
+one point he was clear, that she should not, if he could help it, pass
+out of his life. Her abrupt departure had left him with that baffled and
+dissatisfied feeling which, though it has little in common with love at
+first sight, frequently produces the same effects. She had had, he could
+not disguise it from himself, the better of their late encounter and he
+was conscious of a desire to meet her again and show her that there was
+more in him than she apparently supposed. Bruce Carmyle, in a word,
+was piqued: and, though he could not quite decide whether he liked or
+disliked Sally, he was very sure that a future without her would have an
+element of flatness.
+
+"A very attractive girl. We had a very pleasant talk."
+
+"I bet you did," said Ginger enviously.
+
+"By the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?"
+
+"Why?" said Ginger suspiciously. His attitude towards Sally's address
+resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique work
+of art. He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.
+
+"Well, I--er--I promised to send her some books she was anxious to
+read..."
+
+"I shouldn't think she gets much time for reading."
+
+"Books which are not published in America."
+
+"Oh, pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to
+be, I mean."
+
+"Well, these particular books are not," said Mr. Carmyle shortly. He was
+finding Ginger's reserve a little trying, and wished that he had been
+more inventive.
+
+"Give them to me and I'll send them to her," suggested Ginger.
+
+"Good Lord, man!" snapped Mr. Carmyle. "I'm capable of sending a few
+books to America. Where does she live?"
+
+Ginger revealed the sacred number of the holy street which had the luck
+to be Sally's headquarters. He did it because with a persistent devil
+like his cousin there seemed no way of getting out of it: but he did it
+grudgingly.
+
+"Thanks." Bruce Carmyle wrote the information down with a gold pencil
+in a dapper little morocco-bound note-book. He was the sort of man who
+always has a pencil, and the backs of old envelopes never enter into his
+life.
+
+There was a pause. Bruce Carmyle coughed.
+
+"I saw Uncle Donald this morning," he said.
+
+His manner had lost its geniality. There was no need for it now, and he
+was a man who objected to waste. He spoke coldly, and in his voice there
+was a familiar sub-tingle of reproof.
+
+"Yes?" said Ginger moodily. This was the uncle in whose office he
+had made his debut as a hasher: a worthy man, highly respected in the
+National Liberal Club, but never a favourite of Ginger's. There were
+other minor uncles and a few subsidiary aunts who went to make up the
+Family, but Uncle Donald was unquestionably the managing director of
+that body and it was Ginger's considered opinion that in this capacity
+he approximated to a human blister.
+
+"He wants you to dine with him to-night at Bleke's."
+
+Ginger's depression deepened. A dinner with Uncle Donald would hardly
+have been a cheerful function, even in the surroundings of a banquet
+in the Arabian Nights. There was that about Uncle Donald's personality
+which would have cast a sobering influence over the orgies of the
+Emperor Tiberius at Capri. To dine with him at a morgue like that
+relic of Old London, Bleke's Coffee House, which confined its custom
+principally to regular patrons who had not missed an evening there for
+half a century, was to touch something very near bed-rock. Ginger was
+extremely doubtful whether flesh and blood were equal to it.
+
+"To-night?" he said. "Oh, you mean to-night? Well..."
+
+"Don't be a fool. You know as well as I do that you've got to go."
+Uncle Donald's invitations were royal commands in the Family. "If you've
+another engagement you must put it off."
+
+"Oh, all right."
+
+"Seven-thirty sharp."
+
+"All right," said Ginger gloomily.
+
+The two men went their ways, Bruce Carmyle eastwards because he had
+clients to see in his chambers at the Temple; Ginger westwards because
+Mr. Carmyle had gone east. There was little sympathy between these
+cousins: yet, oddly enough, their thoughts as they walked centred on the
+same object. Bruce Carmyle, threading his way briskly through the crowds
+of Piccadilly Circus, was thinking of Sally: and so was Ginger as he
+loafed aimlessly towards Hyde Park Corner, bumping in a sort of coma
+from pedestrian to pedestrian.
+
+Since his return to London Ginger had been in bad shape. He mooned
+through the days and slept poorly at night. If there is one thing
+rottener than another in a pretty blighted world, one thing which gives
+a fellow the pip and reduces him to the condition of an absolute onion,
+it is hopeless love. Hopeless love had got Ginger all stirred up. His
+had been hitherto a placid soul. Even the financial crash which had so
+altered his life had not bruised him very deeply. His temperament had
+enabled him to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with
+a philosophic "Right ho!" But now everything seemed different. Things
+irritated him acutely, which before he had accepted as inevitable--his
+Uncle Donald's moustache, for instance, and its owner's habit of
+employing it during meals as a sort of zareba or earthwork against the
+assaults of soup.
+
+"By gad!" thought Ginger, stopping suddenly opposite Devonshire House.
+"If he uses that damned shrubbery as soup-strainer to-night, I'll slosh
+him with a fork!"
+
+Hard thoughts... hard thoughts! And getting harder all the time, for
+nothing grows more quickly than a mood of rebellion. Rebellion is a
+forest fire that flames across the soul. The spark had been lighted in
+Ginger, and long before he reached Hyde Park Corner he was ablaze and
+crackling. By the time he returned to his club he was practically a
+menace to society--to that section of it, at any rate, which embraced
+his Uncle Donald, his minor uncles George and William, and his aunts
+Mary, Geraldine, and Louise.
+
+Nor had the mood passed when he began to dress for the dismal
+festivities of Bleke's Coffee House. He scowled as he struggled morosely
+with an obstinate tie. One cannot disguise the fact--Ginger was warming
+up. And it was just at this moment that Fate, as though it had been
+waiting for the psychological instant, applied the finishing touch.
+There was a knock at the door, and a waiter came in with a telegram.
+
+Ginger looked at the envelope. It had been readdressed and forwarded
+on from the Hotel Normandie. It was a wireless, handed in on board the
+White Star liner Olympic, and it ran as follows:
+
+Remember. Death to the Family. S.
+
+Ginger sat down heavily on the bed.
+
+The driver of the taxi-cab which at twenty-five minutes past seven drew
+up at the dingy door of Bleke's Coffee House in the Strand was rather
+struck by his fare's manner and appearance. A determined-looking sort of
+young bloke, was the taxi-driver's verdict.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. SALLY HEARS NEWS
+
+
+
+It had been Sally's intention, on arriving in New York, to take a room
+at the St. Regis and revel in the gilded luxury to which her wealth
+entitled her before moving into the small but comfortable apartment
+which, as soon as she had the time, she intended to find and make her
+permanent abode. But when the moment came and she was giving directions
+to the taxi-driver at the dock, there seemed to her something
+revoltingly Fillmorian about the scheme. It would be time enough to
+sever herself from the boarding-house which had been her home for three
+years when she had found the apartment. Meanwhile, the decent thing to
+do, if she did not want to brand herself in the sight of her conscience
+as a female Fillmore, was to go back temporarily to Mrs. Meecher's
+admirable establishment and foregather with her old friends. After all,
+home is where the heart is, even if there are more prunes there than the
+gourmet would consider judicious.
+
+Perhaps it was the unavoidable complacency induced by the thought
+that she was doing the right thing, or possibly it was the tingling
+expectation of meeting Gerald Foster again after all these weeks of
+separation, that made the familiar streets seem wonderfully bright as
+she drove through them. It was a perfect, crisp New York morning, all
+blue sky and amber sunshine, and even the ash-cans had a stimulating
+look about them. The street cars were full of happy people rollicking
+off to work: policemen directed the traffic with jaunty affability:
+and the white-clad street-cleaners went about their poetic tasks with a
+quiet but none the less noticeable relish. It was improbable that any of
+these people knew that she was back, but somehow they all seemed to be
+behaving as though this were a special day.
+
+The first discordant note in this overture of happiness was struck by
+Mrs. Meecher, who informed Sally, after expressing her gratification
+at the news that she required her old room, that Gerald Foster had left
+town that morning.
+
+"Gone to Detroit, he has," said Mrs. Meecher. "Miss Doland, too." She
+broke off to speak a caustic word to the boarding-house handyman,
+who, with Sally's trunk as a weapon, was depreciating the value of the
+wall-paper in the hall. "There's that play of his being tried out there,
+you know, Monday," resumed Mrs. Meecher, after the handyman had bumped
+his way up the staircase. "They been rehearsing ever since you left."
+
+Sally was disappointed, but it was such a beautiful morning, and New
+York was so wonderful after the dull voyage in the liner that she was
+not going to allow herself to be depressed without good reason. After
+all, she could go on to Detroit tomorrow. It was nice to have something
+to which she could look forward.
+
+"Oh, is Elsa in the company?" she said.
+
+"Sure. And very good too, I hear." Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of
+theatrical gossip. She was an ex-member of the profession herself,
+having been in the first production of "Florodora," though, unlike
+everybody else, not one of the original Sextette. "Mr. Faucitt was down
+to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy
+to please, as you know."
+
+"How is Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+Mrs. Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
+tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
+Sally's uplifted mood.
+
+"Poor old gentleman, he ain't over and above well. Went to bed early
+last night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he
+don't look well. There's a lot of this Spanish influenza about. It might
+be that. Lots o' people have been dying of it, if you believe what you
+see in the papers," said Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.
+
+"Good gracious! You don't think...?"
+
+"Well, he ain't turned black," admitted Mrs. Meecher with regret. "They
+say they turn black. If you believe what you see in the papers, that is.
+Of course, that may come later," she added with the air of one confident
+that all will come right in the future. "The doctor'll be in to see him
+pretty soon. He's quite happy. Toto's sitting with him."
+
+Sally's concern increased. Like everyone who had ever spent any length
+of time in the house, she had strong views on Toto. This quadruped, who
+stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a
+small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to bear
+with equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range of a
+sick man. Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt. Mrs. Meecher, on the other
+hand, who held a faith in her little pet's amiability and power to
+soothe which seven years' close association had been unable to shake,
+seemed to feel that, with Toto on the spot, all that could be done had
+been done as far as pampering the invalid was concerned.
+
+"I must go up and see him," cried Sally. "Poor old dear."
+
+"Sure. You know his room. You can hear Toto talking to him now," said
+Mrs. Meecher complacently. "He wants a cracker, that's what he wants.
+Toto likes a cracker after breakfast."
+
+The invalid's eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to the
+door. At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous rapture.
+Almost any intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at that moment,
+for his little playmate had long outstayed any welcome that might
+originally have been his: but that the caller should be his beloved
+Sally seemed to the old man something in the nature of a return of the
+age of miracles.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+"One moment. Here, Toto!"
+
+Toto, struck momentarily dumb by the sight of food, had jumped off the
+bed and was standing with his head on one side, peering questioningly at
+the cracker. He was a suspicious dog, but he allowed himself to be lured
+into the passage, upon which Sally threw the cracker down and slipped
+in and shut the door. Toto, after a couple of yaps, which may have been
+gratitude or baffled fury, trotted off downstairs, and Mr. Faucitt drew
+a deep breath.
+
+"Sally, you come, as ever, as an angel of mercy. Our worthy Mrs. Meecher
+means well, and I yield to no man in my respect for her innate kindness
+of heart: but she errs in supposing that that thrice-damned whelp of
+hers is a combination of sick-nurse, soothing medicine, and a week at
+the seaside. She insisted on bringing him here. He was yapping then, as
+he was yapping when, with womanly resource which I cannot sufficiently
+praise, you decoyed him hence. And each yap went through me like
+hammer-strokes on sheeted tin. Sally, you stand alone among womankind.
+You shine like a good deed in a naughty world. When did you get back?"
+
+"I've only just arrived in my hired barouche from the pier."
+
+"And you came to see your old friend without delay? I am grateful and
+flattered. Sally, my dear."
+
+"Of course I came to see you. Do you suppose that, when Mrs. Meecher
+told me you were sick, I just said 'Is that so?' and went on talking
+about the weather? Well, what do you mean by it? Frightening everybody.
+Poor old darling, do you feel very bad?"
+
+"One thousand individual mice are nibbling the base of my spine, and
+I am conscious of a constant need of cooling refreshment. But what of
+that? Your presence is a tonic. Tell me, how did our Sally enjoy foreign
+travel?"
+
+"Our Sally had the time of her life."
+
+"Did you visit England?"
+
+"Only passing through."
+
+"How did it look?" asked Mr. Faucitt eagerly.
+
+"Moist. Very moist."
+
+"It would," said Mr. Faucitt indulgently. "I confess that, happy as I
+have been in this country, there are times when I miss those wonderful
+London days, when a sort of cosy brown mist hangs over the streets and
+the pavements ooze with a perspiration of mud and water, and you see
+through the haze the yellow glow of the Bodega lamps shining in the
+distance like harbour-lights. Not," said Mr. Faucitt, "that I specify
+the Bodega to the exclusion of other and equally worthy hostelries. I
+have passed just as pleasant hours in Rule's and Short's. You missed
+something by not lingering in England, Sally."
+
+"I know I did--pneumonia."
+
+Mr. Faucitt shook his head reproachfully.
+
+"You are prejudiced, my dear. You would have enjoyed London if you had
+had the courage to brave its superficial gloom. Where did you spend your
+holiday? Paris?"
+
+"Part of the time. And the rest of the while I was down by the sea. It
+was glorious. I don't think I would ever have come back if I hadn't had
+to. But, of course, I wanted to see you all again. And I wanted to be at
+the opening of Mr. Foster's play. Mrs. Meecher tells me you went to one
+of the rehearsals."
+
+"I attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal," said Mr.
+Faucitt severely. "There is no rehearsing nowadays."
+
+"Oh dear! Was it as bad as all that?"
+
+"The play is good. The play--I will go further--is excellent. It has
+fat. But the acting..."
+
+"Mrs. Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good."
+
+"Our worthy hostess did not misreport me. Miss Doland has great
+possibilities. She reminds me somewhat of Matilda Devine, under whose
+banner I played a season at the Old Royalty in London many years ago.
+She has the seeds of greatness in her, but she is wasted in the present
+case on an insignificant part. There is only one part in the play. I
+allude to the one murdered by Miss Mabel Hobson."
+
+"Murdered!" Sally's heart sank. She had been afraid of this, and it
+was no satisfaction to feel that she had warned Gerald. "Is she very
+terrible?"
+
+"She has the face of an angel and the histrionic ability of that curious
+suet pudding which our estimable Mrs. Meecher is apt to give us on
+Fridays. In my professional career I have seen many cases of what I may
+term the Lady Friend in the role of star, but Miss Hobson eclipses them
+all. I remember in the year '94 a certain scion of the plutocracy
+took it into his head to present a female for whom he had conceived an
+admiration in a part which would have taxed the resources of the ablest.
+I was engaged in her support, and at the first rehearsal I recollect
+saying to my dear old friend, Arthur Moseby--dead, alas, these many
+years. An excellent juvenile, but, like so many good fellows, cursed
+with a tendency to lift the elbow--I recollect saying to him 'Arthur,
+dear boy, I give it two weeks.' 'Max,' was his reply, 'you are an
+incurable optimist. One consecutive night, laddie, one consecutive
+night.' We had, I recall, an even half-crown upon it. He won. We opened
+at Wigan, our leading lady got the bird, and the show closed next day.
+I was forcibly reminded of this incident as I watched Miss Hobson
+rehearsing."
+
+"Oh, poor Ger--poor Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I do not share your commiseration for that young man," said Mr. Faucitt
+austerely. "You probably are almost a stranger to him, but he and I have
+been thrown together a good deal of late. A young man upon whom, mark my
+words, success, if it ever comes, will have the worst effects. I dislike
+him. Sally. He is, I think, without exception, the most selfish and
+self-centred young man of my acquaintance. He reminds me very much
+of old Billy Fothergill, with whom I toured a good deal in the later
+eighties. Did I ever tell you the story of Billy and the amateur
+who...?"
+
+Sally was in no mood to listen to the adventures of Mr. Fothergill.
+The old man's innocent criticism of Gerald had stabbed her deeply. A
+momentary impulse to speak hotly in his defence died away as she saw
+Mr. Faucitt's pale, worn old face. He had meant no harm, after all. How
+could he know what Gerald was to her?
+
+She changed the conversation abruptly.
+
+"Have you seen anything of Fillmore while I've been away?"
+
+"Fillmore? Why yes, my dear, curiously enough I happened to run into him
+on Broadway only a few days ago. He seemed changed--less stiff and aloof
+than he had been for some time past. I may be wronging him, but there
+have been times of late when one might almost have fancied him a trifle
+up-stage. All that was gone at our last encounter. He appeared glad to
+see me and was most cordial."
+
+Sally found her composure restored. Her lecture on the night of the
+party had evidently, she thought, not been wasted. Mr. Faucitt, however,
+advanced another theory to account for the change in the Man of Destiny.
+
+"I rather fancy," he said, "that the softening influence has been the
+young man's fiancée."
+
+"What? Fillmore's not engaged?"
+
+"Did he not write and tell you? I suppose he was waiting to inform you
+when you returned. Yes, Fillmore is betrothed. The lady was with
+him when we met. A Miss Winch. In the profession, I understand. He
+introduced me. A very charming and sensible young lady, I thought."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"She can't be. Fillmore would never have got engaged to anyone like
+that. Was her hair crimson?"
+
+"Brown, if I recollect rightly."
+
+"Very loud, I suppose, and overdressed?"
+
+"On the contrary, neat and quiet."
+
+"You've made a mistake," said Sally decidedly. "She can't have been like
+that. I shall have to look into this. It does seem hard that I can't go
+away for a few weeks without all my friends taking to beds of sickness
+and all my brothers getting ensnared by vampires."
+
+A knock at the door interrupted her complaint. Mrs. Meecher entered,
+ushering in a pleasant little man with spectacles and black bag.
+
+"The doctor to see you, Mr. Faucitt." Mrs. Meecher cast an appraising
+eye at the invalid, as if to detect symptoms of approaching
+discoloration. "I've been telling him that what I think you've gotten is
+this here new Spanish influenza. Two more deaths there were in the paper
+this morning, if you can believe what you see..."
+
+"I wonder," said the doctor, "if you would mind going and bringing me a
+small glass of water?"
+
+"Why, sure."
+
+"Not a large glass--a small glass. Just let the tap run for a few
+moments and take care not to spill any as you come up the stairs. I
+always ask ladies, like our friend who has just gone," he added as the
+door closed, "to bring me a glass of water. It keeps them amused and
+interested and gets them out of the way, and they think I am going to do
+a conjuring trick with it. As a matter of fact, I'm going to drink it.
+Now let's have a look at you."
+
+The examination did not take long. At the end of it the doctor seemed
+somewhat chagrined.
+
+"Our good friend's diagnosis was correct. I'd give a leg to say it
+wasn't, but it was. It is this here new Spanish influenza. Not a bad
+attack. You want to stay in bed and keep warm, and I'll write you out a
+prescription. You ought to be nursed. Is this young lady a nurse?"
+
+"No, no, merely..."
+
+"Of course I'm a nurse," said Sally decidedly. "It isn't difficult,
+is it, doctor? I know nurses smooth pillows. I can do that. Is there
+anything else?"
+
+"Their principal duty is to sit here and prevent the excellent and
+garrulous lady who has just left us from getting in. They must also be
+able to aim straight with a book or an old shoe, if that small woolly
+dog I met downstairs tries to force an entrance. If you are equal to
+these tasks, I can leave the case in your hands with every confidence."
+
+"But, Sally, my dear," said Mr. Faucitt, concerned, "you must not waste
+your time looking after me. You have a thousand things to occupy you."
+
+"There's nothing I want to do more than help you to get better. I'll
+just go out and send a wire, and then I'll be right back."
+
+Five minutes later, Sally was in a Western Union office, telegraphing
+to Gerald that she would be unable to reach Detroit in time for the
+opening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. FIRST AID FOR FILLMORE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It was not till the following Friday that Sally was able to start for
+Detroit. She arrived on the Saturday morning and drove to the Hotel
+Statler. Having ascertained that Gerald was stopping in the hotel and
+having 'phoned up to his room to tell him to join her, she went into the
+dining-room and ordered breakfast.
+
+She felt low-spirited as she waited for the food to arrive. The nursing
+of Mr. Faucitt had left her tired, and she had not slept well on the
+train. But the real cause of her depression was the fact that there had
+been a lack of enthusiasm in Gerald's greeting over the telephone just
+now. He had spoken listlessly, as though the fact of her returning
+after all these weeks was a matter of no account, and she felt hurt and
+perplexed.
+
+A cup of coffee had a stimulating effect. Men, of course, were always
+like this in the early morning. It would, no doubt, be a very different
+Gerald who would presently bound into the dining-room, quickened and
+restored by a cold shower-bath. In the meantime, here was food, and she
+needed it.
+
+She was pouring out her second cup of coffee when a stout young man,
+of whom she had caught a glimpse as he moved about that section of the
+hotel lobby which was visible through the open door of the dining-room,
+came in and stood peering about as though in search of someone. The
+momentary sight she had had of this young man had interested Sally. She
+had thought how extraordinarily like he was to her brother Fillmore. Now
+she perceived that it was Fillmore himself.
+
+Sally was puzzled. What could Fillmore be doing so far west? She had
+supposed him to be a permanent resident of New York. But, of course,
+your man of affairs and vast interests flits about all over the place.
+At any rate, here he was, and she called him. And, after he had stood in
+the doorway looking in every direction except the right one for another
+minute, he saw her and came over to her table.
+
+"Why, Sally?" His manner, she thought, was nervous--one might almost
+have said embarrassed. She attributed this to a guilty conscience.
+Presently he would have to break to her the news that he had become
+engaged to be married without her sisterly sanction, and no doubt he was
+wondering how to begin. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in
+Europe."
+
+"I got back a week ago, but I've been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt ever
+since then. He's been ill, poor old dear. I've come here to see Mr.
+Foster's play, 'The Primrose Way,' you know. Is it a success?"
+
+"It hasn't opened yet."
+
+"Don't be silly, Fill. Do pull yourself together. It opened last
+Monday."
+
+"No, it didn't. Haven't you heard? They've closed all the theatres
+because of this infernal Spanish influenza. Nothing has been playing
+this week. You must have seen it in the papers."
+
+"I haven't had time to read the papers. Oh, Fill, what an awful shame!"
+
+"Yes, it's pretty tough. Makes the company all on edge. I've had the
+darndest time, I can tell you."
+
+"Why, what have you got to do with it?"
+
+Fillmore coughed.
+
+"I--er--oh, I didn't tell you that. I'm sort of--er--mixed up in the
+show. Cracknell--you remember he was at college with me--suggested that
+I should come down and look at it. Shouldn't wonder if he wants me to
+put money into it and so on."
+
+"I thought he had all the money in the world."
+
+"Yes, he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
+thing."
+
+"Is it a good thing?"
+
+"The play's fine."
+
+"That's what Mr. Faucitt said. But Mabel Hobson..."
+
+Fillmore's ample face registered emotion.
+
+"She's an awful woman, Sally! She can't act, and she throws her
+weight about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a
+paper-knife..."
+
+"How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?"
+
+"One of the props, you know. It got mislaid. I'm certain it wasn't my
+fault..."
+
+"How could it have been your fault?" asked Sally wonderingly. Love
+seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality.
+
+"Well--er--you know how it is. Angry woman... blames the first person
+she sees... This paper-knife..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off into pained silence.
+
+"Mr. Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good."
+
+"Oh, she's all right," said Fillmore indifferently. "But--" His face
+brightened and animation crept into his voice. "But the girl you want to
+watch is Miss Winch. Gladys Winch. She plays the maid. She's only in
+the first act, and hasn't much to say, except 'Did you ring, madam?' and
+things like that. But it's the way she says 'em! Sally, that girl's a
+genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark my
+words, in a darned little while you'll see her name up on Broadway in
+electric light. Personality? Ask me! Charm? She wrote the words and
+music! Looks?..."
+
+"All right! All right! I know all about it, Fill. And will you kindly
+inform me how you dared to get engaged without consulting me?"
+
+Fillmore blushed richly.
+
+"Oh, do you know?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Faucitt told me."
+
+"Well..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I'm only human," argued Fillmore.
+
+"I call that a very handsome admission. You've got quite modest, Fill."
+
+He had certainly changed for the better since their last meeting.
+
+It was as if someone had punctured him and let out all the pomposity.
+If this was due, as Mr. Faucitt had suggested, to the influence of Miss
+Winch, Sally felt that she could not but approve of the romance.
+
+"I'll introduce you sometime,' said Fillmore.
+
+"I want to meet her very much."
+
+"I'll have to be going now. I've got to see Bunbury. I thought he might
+be in here."
+
+"Who's Bunbury?"
+
+"The producer. I suppose he is breakfasting in his room. I'd better go
+up."
+
+"You are busy, aren't you. Little marvel! It's lucky they've got you to
+look after them."
+
+Fillmore retired and Sally settled down to wait for Gerald, no longer
+hurt by his manner over the telephone. Poor Gerald! No wonder he had
+seemed upset.
+
+A few minutes later he came in.
+
+"Oh, Jerry darling," said Sally, as he reached the table, "I'm so sorry.
+I've just been hearing about it."
+
+Gerald sat down. His appearance fulfilled the promise of his voice
+over the telephone. A sort of nervous dullness wrapped him about like a
+garment.
+
+"It's just my luck," he said gloomily. "It's the kind of thing that
+couldn't happen to anyone but me. Damned fools! Where's the sense in
+shutting the theatres, even if there is influenza about? They let people
+jam against one another all day in the stores. If that doesn't hurt them
+why should it hurt them to go to theatres? Besides, it's all infernal
+nonsense about this thing. I don't believe there is such a thing as
+Spanish influenza. People get colds in their heads and think they're
+dying. It's all a fake scare."
+
+"I don't think it's that," said Sally. "Poor Mr. Faucitt had it quite
+badly. That's why I couldn't come earlier."
+
+Gerald did not seem interested either by the news of Mr. Faucitt's
+illness or by the fact that Sally, after delay, had at last arrived. He
+dug a spoon sombrely into his grape-fruit.
+
+"We've been hanging about here day after day, getting bored to death
+all the time... The company's going all to pieces. They're sick of
+rehearsing and rehearsing when nobody knows if we'll ever open. They
+were all keyed up a week ago, and they've been sagging ever since. It
+will ruin the play, of course. My first chance! Just chucked away."
+
+Sally was listening with a growing feeling of desolation. She tried to
+be fair, to remember that he had had a terrible disappointment and was
+under a great strain. And yet... it was unfortunate that self-pity was a
+thing she particularly disliked in a man. Her vanity, too, was hurt. It
+was obvious that her arrival, so far from acting as a magic restorative,
+had effected nothing. She could not help remembering, though it made
+her feel disloyal, what Mr. Faucitt had said about Gerald. She had never
+noticed before that he was remarkably self-centred, but he was thrusting
+the fact upon her attention now.
+
+"That Hobson woman is beginning to make trouble," went on Gerald,
+prodding in a despairing sort of way at scrambled eggs. "She ought never
+to have had the part, never. She can't handle it. Elsa Doland could play
+it a thousand times better. I wrote Elsa in a few lines the other day,
+and the Hobson woman went right up in the air. You don't know what a
+star is till you've seen one of these promoted clothes-props from the
+Follies trying to be one. It took me an hour to talk her round and keep
+her from throwing up her part."
+
+"Why not let her throw up her part?"
+
+"For heaven's sake talk sense," said Gerald querulously. "Do you suppose
+that man Cracknell would keep the play on if she wasn't in it? He would
+close the show in a second, and where would I be then? You don't seem
+to realize that this is a big chance for me. I'd look a fool throwing it
+away."
+
+"I see," said Sally, shortly. She had never felt so wretched in her
+life. Foreign travel, she decided, was a mistake. It might be pleasant
+and broadening to the mind, but it seemed to put you so out of touch
+with people when you got back. She analysed her sensations, and arrived
+at the conclusion that what she was resenting was the fact that Gerald
+was trying to get the advantages of two attitudes simultaneously. A man
+in trouble may either be the captain of his soul and superior to pity,
+or he may be a broken thing for a woman to pet and comfort. Gerald,
+it seemed to her, was advertising himself as an object for her
+commiseration, and at the same time raising a barrier against it. He
+appeared to demand her sympathy while holding himself aloof from it. She
+had the uncomfortable sensation of feeling herself shut out and useless.
+
+"By the way," said Gerald, "there's one thing. I have to keep her
+jollying along all the time, so for goodness' sake don't go letting it
+out that we're engaged."
+
+Sally's chin went up with a jerk. This was too much.
+
+"If you find it a handicap being engaged to me..."
+
+"Don't be silly." Gerald took refuge in pathos. "Good God! It's tough!
+Here am I, worried to death, and you..."
+
+Before he could finish the sentence, Sally's mood had undergone one
+of those swift changes which sometimes made her feel that she must be
+lacking in character. A simple, comforting thought had come to her,
+altering her entire outlook. She had come off the train tired and
+gritty, and what seemed the general out-of-jointness of the world was
+entirely due, she decided, to the fact that she had not had a bath and
+that her hair was all anyhow. She felt suddenly tranquil. If it was
+merely her grubby and dishevelled condition that made Gerald seem to her
+so different, all was well. She put her hand on his with a quick gesture
+of penitence.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've been a brute, but I do sympathize,
+really."
+
+"I've had an awful time," mumbled Gerald.
+
+"I know, I know. But you never told me you were glad to see me."
+
+"Of course I'm glad to see you."
+
+"Why didn't you say so, then, you poor fish? And why didn't you ask me
+if I had enjoyed myself in Europe?"
+
+"Did you enjoy yourself?"
+
+"Yes, except that I missed you so much. There! Now we can consider my
+lecture on foreign travel finished, and you can go on telling me your
+troubles."
+
+Gerald accepted the invitation. He spoke at considerable length, though
+with little variety. It appeared definitely established in his mind that
+Providence had invented Spanish influenza purely with a view to wrecking
+his future. But now he seemed less aloof, more open to sympathy.
+The brief thunderstorm had cleared the air. Sally lost that sense of
+detachment and exclusion which had weighed upon her.
+
+"Well," said Gerald, at length, looking at his watch, "I suppose I had
+better be off."
+
+"Rehearsal?"
+
+"Yes, confound it. It's the only way of getting through the day. Are you
+coming along?"
+
+"I'll come directly I've unpacked and tidied myself up."
+
+"See you at the theatre, then."
+
+Sally went out and rang for the lift to take her up to her room.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The rehearsal had started when she reached the theatre. As she entered
+the dark auditorium, voices came to her with that thin and reedy effect
+which is produced by people talking in an empty building. She sat down
+at the back of the house, and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom,
+was able to see Gerald sitting in the front row beside a man with a bald
+head fringed with orange hair whom she took correctly to be Mr. Bunbury,
+the producer. Dotted about the house in ones and twos were members of
+the company whose presence was not required in the first act. On the
+stage, Elsa Doland, looking very attractive, was playing a scene with a
+man in a bowler hat. She was speaking a line, as Sally came in.
+
+"Why, what do you mean, father?"
+
+"Tiddly-omty-om," was the bowler-hatted one's surprising reply.
+"Tiddly-omty-om... long speech ending in 'find me in the library.' And
+exit," said the man in the bowler hat, starting to do so.
+
+For the first time Sally became aware of the atmosphere of nerves.
+Mr. Bunbury, who seemed to be a man of temperament, picked up his
+walking-stick, which was leaning against the next seat, and flung it
+with some violence across the house.
+
+"For God's sake!" said Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Now what?" inquired the bowler hat, interested, pausing hallway across
+the stage.
+
+"Do speak the lines, Teddy," exclaimed Gerald. "Don't skip them in that
+sloppy fashion."
+
+"You don't want me to go over the whole thing?" asked the bowler hat,
+amazed.
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Not the whole damn thing?" queried the bowler hat, fighting with
+incredulity.
+
+"This is a rehearsal," snapped Mr. Bunbury. "If we are not going to do
+it properly, what's the use of doing it at all?"
+
+This seemed to strike the erring Teddy, if not as reasonable, at any
+rate as one way of looking at it. He delivered the speech in an injured
+tone and shuffled off. The atmosphere of tenseness was unmistakable now.
+Sally could feel it. The world of the theatre is simply a large nursery
+and its inhabitants children who readily become fretful if anything goes
+wrong. The waiting and the uncertainty, the loafing about in strange
+hotels in a strange city, the dreary rehearsing of lines which had been
+polished to the last syllable more than a week ago--these things had
+sapped the nerve of the Primrose Way company and demoralization had set
+in. It would require only a trifle to produce an explosion.
+
+Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a
+magazine from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights.
+A moment later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be
+greeted instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Miss Winch!"
+
+The new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
+pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of
+genial indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse the
+children. She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking girl with
+a serious face, the gravity of which was contradicted by the faint smile
+that seemed to lurk about the corner of her mouth. She was certainly not
+pretty, and Sally, watching her with keen interest, was surprised that
+Fillmore had had the sense to disregard surface homeliness and recognize
+her charm. Deep down in Fillmore, Sally decided, there must lurk an
+unsuspected vein of intelligence.
+
+"Hello?" said Miss Winch, amiably.
+
+Mr. Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.
+
+"Miss Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum
+during rehearsal?"
+
+"That's right, so you did," admitted Miss Winch, chummily.
+
+"Then why are you doing it?"
+
+Fillmore's fiancée revolved the criticized refreshment about her tongue
+for a moment before replying.
+
+"Bit o' business," she announced, at length.
+
+"What do you mean, a bit of business?"
+
+"Character stuff," explained Miss Winch in her pleasant, drawling voice.
+"Thought it out myself. Maids chew gum, you know."
+
+Mr. Bunbury ruffled his orange hair in an over-wrought manner with the
+palm of his right hand.
+
+"Have you ever seen a maid?" he asked, despairingly.
+
+"Yes, sir. And they chew gum."
+
+"I mean a parlour-maid in a smart house," moaned Mr. Bunbury. "Do you
+imagine for a moment that in a house such as this is supposed to be the
+parlour-maid would be allowed to come into the drawing-room champing
+that disgusting, beastly stuff?"
+
+Miss Winch considered the point.
+
+"Maybe you're right." She brightened. "Listen! Great idea! Mr. Foster
+can write in a line for Elsa, calling me down, and another giving me
+a good come-back, and then another for Elsa saying something else, and
+then something really funny for me, and so on. We can work it up into a
+big comic scene. Five or six minutes, all laughs."
+
+This ingenious suggestion had the effect of depriving the producer
+momentarily of speech, and while he was struggling for utterance, there
+dashed out from the wings a gorgeous being in blue velvet and a hat of
+such unimpeachable smartness that Sally ached at the sight of it with a
+spasm of pure envy.
+
+"Say!"
+
+Miss Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which
+nature can bestow with the exception of a musical voice. Her figure was
+perfect, her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but her
+voice in moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.
+
+"Say, listen to me for just one moment!"
+
+Mr. Bunbury recovered from his trance.
+
+"Miss Hobson! Please!"
+
+"Yes, that's all very well..."
+
+"You are interrupting the rehearsal."
+
+"You bet your sorrowful existence I'm interrupting the rehearsal,"
+agreed Miss Hobson, with emphasis. "And, if you want to make a little
+easy money, you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I'm going to
+interrupt it again every time there's any talk of writing up any darned
+part in the show except mine. Write up other people's parts? Not while I
+have my strength!"
+
+A young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings in
+close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.
+
+"Now, sweetie!"
+
+"Oh, can it, Reggie!" said Miss Hobson, curtly.
+
+Mr. Cracknell obediently canned it. He was not one of your brutal
+cave-men. He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began to
+chew the knob of his stick.
+
+"I'm the star," resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, "and, if you think
+anybody else's part's going to be written up... well, pardon me while I
+choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable is written into anybody's
+part, I walk straight out on my two feet. You won't see me go, I'll be
+so quick."
+
+Mr. Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.
+
+"For heaven's sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating society?
+Miss Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody's part. Now are
+you satisfied?"
+
+"She said..."
+
+"Oh, never mind," observed Miss Winch, equably. "It was only a random
+thought. Working for the good of the show all the time. That's me."
+
+"Now, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like a
+tortoise.
+
+Miss Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.
+
+"Oh, well, that's all right, then. But don't forget I know how to look
+after myself," she said, stating a fact which was abundantly obvious to
+all who had had the privilege of listening to her. "Any raw work, and
+out I walk so quick it'll make you giddy."
+
+She retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.
+
+"Shall I say my big speech now?" inquired Miss Winch, over the
+footlights.
+
+"Yes, yes! Get on with the rehearsal. We've wasted half the morning."
+
+"Did you ring, madam?" said Miss Winch to Elsa, who had been reading her
+magazine placidly through the late scene.
+
+The rehearsal proceeded, and Sally watched it with a sinking heart. It
+was all wrong. Novice as she was in things theatrical, she could see
+that. There was no doubt that Miss Hobson was superbly beautiful and
+would have shed lustre on any part which involved the minimum of words
+and the maximum of clothes: but in the pivotal role of a serious play,
+her very physical attributes only served to emphasize and point her
+hopeless incapacity. Sally remembered Mr. Faucitt's story of the lady
+who got the bird at Wigan. She did not see how history could fail to
+repeat itself. The theatrical public of America will endure much from
+youth and beauty, but there is a limit.
+
+A shrill, passionate cry from the front row, and Mr. Bunbury was on his
+feet again. Sally could not help wondering whether things were going
+particularly wrong to-day, or whether this was one of Mr. Bunbury's
+ordinary mornings.
+
+"Miss Hobson!"
+
+The action of the drama had just brought that emotional lady on left
+centre and had taken her across to the desk which stood on the other
+side of the stage. The desk was an important feature of the play, for it
+symbolized the absorption in business which, exhibited by her husband,
+was rapidly breaking Miss Hobson's heart. He loved his desk better than
+his young wife, that was what it amounted to, and no wife can stand that
+sort of thing.
+
+"Oh, gee!" said Miss Hobson, ceasing to be the distressed wife and
+becoming the offended star. "What's it this time?"
+
+"I suggested at the last rehearsal and at the rehearsal before and
+the rehearsal before that, that, on that line, you, should pick up
+the paper-knife and toy negligently with it. You did it yesterday, and
+to-day you've forgotten it again."
+
+"My God!" cried Miss Hobson, wounded to the quick. "If this don't beat
+everything! How the heck can I toy negligently with a paper-knife when
+there's no paper-knife for me to toy negligently with?"
+
+"The paper-knife is on the desk."
+
+"It's not on the desk."
+
+"No paper-knife?"
+
+"No paper-knife. And it's no good picking on me. I'm the star, not the
+assistant stage manager. If you're going to pick on anybody, pick on
+him."
+
+The advice appeared to strike Mr. Bunbury as good. He threw back his
+head and bayed like a bloodhound.
+
+There was a momentary pause, and then from the wings on the prompt side
+there shambled out a stout and shrinking figure, in whose hand was a
+script of the play and on whose face, lit up by the footlights, there
+shone a look of apprehension. It was Fillmore, the Man of Destiny.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Alas, poor Fillmore! He stood in the middle of the stage with the
+lightning of Mr. Bunbury's wrath playing about his defenceless head, and
+Sally, recovering from her first astonishment, sent a wave of sisterly
+commiseration floating across the theatre to him. She did not often pity
+Fillmore. His was a nature which in the sunshine of prosperity had a
+tendency to grow a trifle lush; and such of the minor ills of life as
+had afflicted him during the past three years, had, she considered,
+been wholesome and educative and a matter not for concern but for
+congratulation. Unmoved, she had watched him through that lean period
+lunching on coffee and buckwheat cakes, and curbing from motives of
+economy a somewhat florid taste in dress. But this was different. This
+was tragedy. Somehow or other, blasting disaster must have smitten the
+Fillmore bank-roll, and he was back where he had started. His presence
+here this morning could mean nothing else.
+
+She recalled his words at the breakfast-table about financing the
+play. How like Fillmore to try to save his face for the moment with an
+outrageous bluff, though well aware that he would have to reveal the
+truth sooner or later. She realized how he must have felt when he had
+seen her at the hotel. Yes, she was sorry for Fillmore.
+
+And, as she listened to the fervent eloquence of Mr. Bunbury, she
+perceived that she had every reason to be. Fillmore was having a bad
+time. One of the chief articles of faith in the creed of all theatrical
+producers is that if anything goes wrong it must be the fault of the
+assistant stage manager and Mr. Bunbury was evidently orthodox in his
+views. He was showing oratorical gifts of no mean order. The paper-knife
+seemed to inspire him. Gradually, Sally began to get the feeling that
+this harmless, necessary stage-property was the source from which
+sprang most, if not all, of the trouble in the world. It had disappeared
+before. Now it had disappeared again. Could Mr. Bunbury go on struggling
+in a universe where this sort of thing happened? He seemed to doubt it.
+Being a red-blooded, one-hundred-per-cent American man, he would try
+hard, but it was a hundred to one shot that he would get through. He
+had asked for a paper-knife. There was no paper-knife. Why was there no
+paper-knife? Where was the paper-knife anyway?
+
+"I assure you, Mr. Bunbury," bleated the unhappy Fillmore, obsequiously.
+"I placed it with the rest of the properties after the last rehearsal."
+
+"You couldn't have done."
+
+"I assure you I did."
+
+"And it walked away, I suppose," said Miss Hobson with cold scorn,
+pausing in the operation of brightening up her lower lip with a
+lip-stick.
+
+A calm, clear voice spoke.
+
+"It was taken away," said the calm, clear voice.
+
+Miss Winch had added herself to the symposium. She stood beside
+Fillmore, chewing placidly. It took more than raised voices and
+gesticulating hands to disturb Miss Winch.
+
+"Miss Hobson took it," she went on in her cosy, drawling voice. "I saw
+her."
+
+Sensation in court. The prisoner, who seemed to feel his position
+deeply, cast a pop-eyed glance full of gratitude at his advocate.
+Mr. Bunbury, in his capacity of prosecuting attorney, ran his fingers
+through his hair in some embarrassment, for he was regretting now that
+he had made such a fuss. Miss Hobson thus assailed by an underling,
+spun round and dropped the lip-stick, which was neatly retrieved by the
+assiduous Mr. Cracknell. Mr. Cracknell had his limitations, but he was
+rather good at picking up lip-sticks.
+
+"What's that? I took it? I never did anything of the sort."
+
+"Miss Hobson took it after the rehearsal yesterday," drawled Gladys
+Winch, addressing the world in general, "and threw it negligently at the
+theatre cat."
+
+Miss Hobson seemed taken aback. Her composure was not restored by Mr.
+Bunbury's next remark. The producer, like his company, had been feeling
+the strain of the past few days, and, though as a rule he avoided
+anything in the nature of a clash with the temperamental star, this
+matter of the missing paper-knife had bitten so deeply into his soul
+that he felt compelled to speak his mind.
+
+"In future, Miss Hobson, I should be glad if, when you wish to throw
+anything at the cat, you would not select a missile from the property
+box. Good heavens!" he cried, stung by the way fate was maltreating
+him, "I have never experienced anything like this before. I have
+been producing plays all my life, and this is the first time this has
+happened. I have produced Nazimova. Nazimova never threw paper-knives at
+cats."
+
+"Well, I hate cats," said Miss Hobson, as though that settled it.
+
+"I," murmured Miss Winch, "love little pussy, her fur is so warm, and if
+I don't hurt her she'll do me no..."
+
+"Oh, my heavens!" shouted Gerald Foster, bounding from his seat and for
+the first time taking a share in the debate. "Are we going to spend the
+whole day arguing about cats and paper-knives? For goodness' sake, clear
+the stage and stop wasting time."
+
+Miss Hobson chose to regard this intervention as an affront.
+
+"Don't shout at me, Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I wasn't shouting at you."
+
+"If you have anything to say to me, lower your voice."
+
+"He can't," observed Miss Winch. "He's a tenor."
+
+"Nazimova never..." began Mr. Bunbury.
+
+Miss Hobson was not to be diverted from her theme by reminiscences of
+Nazimova. She had not finished dealing with Gerald.
+
+"In the shows I've been in," she said, mordantly, "the author wasn't
+allowed to go about the place getting fresh with the leading lady. In
+the shows I've been in the author sat at the back and spoke when he was
+spoken to. In the shows I've been in..."
+
+Sally was tingling all over. This reminded her of the dog-fight on the
+Roville sands. She wanted to be in it, and only the recognition that it
+was a private fight and that she would be intruding kept her silent. The
+lure of the fray, however, was too strong for her wholly to resist it.
+Almost unconsciously, she had risen from her place and drifted down the
+aisle so as to be nearer the white-hot centre of things. She was now
+standing in the lighted space by the orchestra-pit, and her presence
+attracted the roving attention of Miss Hobson, who, having concluded her
+remarks on authors and their legitimate sphere of activity, was looking
+about for some other object of attack.
+
+"Who the devil," inquired Miss Hobson, "is that?"
+
+Sally found herself an object of universal scrutiny and wished that she
+had remained in the obscurity of the back rows.
+
+"I am Mr. Nicholas' sister," was the best method of identification that
+she could find.
+
+"Who's Mr. Nicholas?"
+
+Fillmore timidly admitted that he was Mr. Nicholas. He did it in the
+manner of one in the dock pleading guilty to a major charge, and
+at least half of those present seemed surprised. To them, till now,
+Fillmore had been a nameless thing, answering to the shout of "Hi!"
+
+Miss Hobson received the information with a laugh of such exceeding
+bitterness that strong men blanched and Mr. Cracknell started so
+convulsively that he nearly jerked his collar off its stud.
+
+"Now, sweetie!" urged Mr. Cracknell.
+
+Miss Hobson said that Mr. Cracknell gave her a pain in the gizzard. She
+recommended his fading away, and he did so--into his collar. He seemed
+to feel that once well inside his collar he was "home" and safe from
+attack.
+
+"I'm through!" announced Miss Hobson. It appeared that Sally's presence
+had in some mysterious fashion fulfilled the function of the last straw.
+"This is the by-Goddest show I was ever in! I can stand for a whole lot,
+but when it comes to the assistant stage manager being allowed to fill
+the theatre with his sisters and his cousins and his aunts it's time to
+quit."
+
+"But, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, coming to the surface.
+
+"Oh, go and choke yourself!" said Miss Hobson, crisply. And, swinging
+round like a blue panther, she strode off. A door banged, and the sound
+of it seemed to restore Mr. Cracknell's power of movement. He, too, shot
+up stage and disappeared.
+
+"Hello, Sally," said Elsa Doland, looking up from her magazine. The
+battle, raging all round her, had failed to disturb her detachment.
+"When did you get back?"
+
+Sally trotted up the steps which had been propped against the stage to
+form a bridge over the orchestra pit.
+
+"Hello, Elsa."
+
+The late debaters had split into groups. Mr. Bunbury and Gerald were
+pacing up and down the central aisle, talking earnestly. Fillmore had
+subsided into a chair.
+
+"Do you know Gladys Winch?" asked Elsa.
+
+Sally shook hands with the placid lodestar of her brother's affections.
+Miss Winch, on closer inspection, proved to have deep grey eyes and
+freckles. Sally's liking for her increased.
+
+"Thank you for saving Fillmore from the wolves," she said. "They would
+have torn him in pieces but for you."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Winch.
+
+"It was noble."
+
+"Oh, well!"
+
+"I think," said Sally, "I'll go and have a talk with Fillmore. He looks
+as though he wanted consoling."
+
+She made her way to that picturesque ruin.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Fillmore had the air of a man who thought it wasn't loaded. A wild,
+startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he was
+breathing heavily.
+
+"Cheer up!" said Sally. Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly. "Tell me
+all," said Sally, sitting down beside him. "I leave you a gentleman of
+large and independent means, and I come back and find you one of the
+wage-slaves again. How did it all happen?"
+
+"Sally," said Fillmore, "I will be frank with you. Can you lend me ten
+dollars?"
+
+"I don't see how you make that out an answer to my question, but here
+you are."
+
+"Thanks." Fillmore pocketed the bill. "I'll let you have it back next
+week. I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch."
+
+"If that's what you want it for, don't look on it as a loan, take it as
+a gift with my blessing thrown in." She looked over her shoulder at
+Miss Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being temporarily suspended, was
+practising golf-shots with an umbrella at the other side of the stage.
+"However did you have the sense to fall in love with her, Fill?"
+
+"Do you like her?" asked Fillmore, brightening.
+
+"I love her."
+
+"I knew you would. She's just the right girl for me, isn't she?"
+
+"She certainly is."
+
+"So sympathetic."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So kind."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the
+girl who marries you will need."
+
+Fillmore drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting in
+a low chair can achieve.
+
+"Some day I will make you believe in me, Sally."
+
+"Less of the Merchant Prince, my lad," said Sally, firmly. "You just
+confine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of taking
+up my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the future. You've
+lost all your money?"
+
+"I have suffered certain reverses," said Fillmore, with dignity, "which
+have left me temporarily... Yes, every bean," he concluded simply.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well..." Fillmore hesitated. "I've had bad luck, you know. First I
+bought Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell. So that went
+wrong."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose. So that
+went wrong."
+
+"Good gracious! Why, I've heard all this before."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"No, I remember now. It's just that you remind me of a man I met at
+Roville. He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had made a
+hash of everything. Well, that took all you had, I suppose?"
+
+"Not quite. I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal that
+really did look cast-iron."
+
+"And that went wrong!"
+
+"It wasn't my fault," said Fillmore querulously. "It was just my
+poisonous luck. A man I knew got me to join a syndicate which had
+bought up a lot of whisky. The idea was to ship it into Chicago in
+herring-barrels. We should have cleaned up big, only a mutt of a
+detective took it into his darned head to go fooling about with a
+crowbar. Officious ass! It wasn't as if the barrels weren't labelled
+'Herrings' as plainly as they could be," said Fillmore with honest
+indignation. He shuddered. "I nearly got arrested."
+
+"But that went wrong? Well, that's something to be thankful for. Stripes
+wouldn't suit your figure." Sally gave his arm a squeeze. She was
+very fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his soul she generally
+concealed her affection beneath a manner which he had once compared,
+not without some reason, to that of a governess who had afflicted their
+mutual childhood. "Never mind, you poor ill-used martyr. Things are sure
+to come right. We shall see you a millionaire some day. And, oh heavens,
+brother Fillmore, what a bore you'll be when you are! I can just see
+you being interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good.
+'Mr. Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work. He can lay his
+hand on his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged in
+those rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise and
+watch things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and watch 'em
+rise.' Fill... I'll tell you what I'll do. They all say it's the first
+bit of money that counts in building a vast fortune. I'll lend you some
+of mine."
+
+"You will? Sally, I always said you were an ace."
+
+"I never heard you. You oughtn't to mumble so."
+
+"Will you lend me twenty thousand dollars?"
+
+Sally patted his hand soothingly.
+
+"Come slowly down to earth," she said. "Two hundred was the sum I had in
+mind."
+
+"I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You'd better rob a bank. Any policeman will direct you to a good bank."
+
+"I'll tell you why I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You might just mention it."
+
+"If I had twenty thousand, I'd buy this production from Cracknell. He'll
+be back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman has quit: and,
+if she really has, you take it from me that he will close the show. And,
+even if he manages to jolly her along this time and she comes back, it's
+going to happen sooner or later. It's a shame to let a show like this
+close. I believe in it, Sally. It's a darn good play. With Elsa Doland
+in the big part, it couldn't fail."
+
+Sally started. Her money was too recent for her to have grown fully
+accustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a position
+to wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale. The financing of
+a theatrical production had always been to her something mysterious
+and out of the reach of ordinary persons like herself. Fillmore, that
+spacious thinker, had brought it into the sphere of the possible.
+
+"He'd sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit in
+hand. You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York.
+I'd give you ten per cent on your money, Sally."
+
+Sally found herself wavering. The prudent side of her nature, which
+hitherto had steered her safely through most of life's rapids, seemed
+oddly dormant. Sub-consciously she was aware that on past performances
+Fillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control of anybody's
+little fortune, but somehow the thought did not seem to grip her. He had
+touched her imagination.
+
+"It's a gold-mine!"
+
+Sally's prudent side stirred in its sleep. Fillmore had chosen an
+unfortunate expression. To the novice in finance the word gold-mine
+had repellent associations. If there was one thing in which Sally had
+proposed not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she had had
+in view, as a matter of fact, had been one of those little fancy shops
+which are called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or something like
+that, where you sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy at extortionate
+prices. She knew two girls who were doing splendidly in that line. As
+Fillmore spoke those words, Ye Corner Shoppe suddenly looked very good
+to her.
+
+At this moment, however, two things happened. Gerald and Mr. Bunbury,
+in the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of the
+footlights, and she was able to see Gerald's face: and at the same time
+Mr. Reginald Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole demeanour that
+of the bearer of evil tidings.
+
+The sight of Gerald's face annihilated Sally's prudence at a single
+stroke. Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been shining
+brightly before her mental eye, flickered and melted out. The whole
+issue became clear and simple. Gerald was miserable and she had it in
+her power to make him happy. He was sullenly awaiting disaster and she
+with a word could avert it. She wondered that she had ever hesitated.
+
+"All right," she said simply.
+
+Fillmore quivered from head to foot. A powerful electric shock could not
+have produced a stronger convulsion. He knew Sally of old as cautious
+and clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother's eloquence;
+and he had never looked on this thing as anything better than a hundred
+to one shot.
+
+"You'll do it?" he whispered, and held his breath. After all he might
+not have heard correctly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+All the complex emotion in Fillmore's soul found expression in one vast
+whoop. It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump, beating
+against the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very gallery.
+Mr. Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr. Cracknell across the
+footlights, shied like a startled mule. There was reproach and menace in
+the look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute earlier it would have reduced
+that financial magnate to apologetic pulp. But Fillmore was not to
+be intimidated now by a look. He strode down to the group at the
+footlights,
+
+"Cracknell," he said importantly, "one moment, I should like a word with
+you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS
+
+
+
+If actors and actresses are like children in that they are readily
+depressed by disaster, they have the child's compensating gift of being
+easily uplifted by good fortune. It amazed Sally that any one mortal
+should have been able to spread such universal happiness as she had
+done by the simple act of lending her brother Fillmore twenty thousand
+dollars. If the Millennium had arrived, the members of the Primrose
+Way Company could not have been on better terms with themselves. The
+lethargy and dispiritedness, caused by their week of inaction, fell from
+them like a cloak. The sudden elevation of that creature of the abyss,
+the assistant stage manager, to the dizzy height of proprietor of the
+show appealed to their sense of drama. Most of them had played in pieces
+where much the same thing had happened to the persecuted heroine round
+about eleven o'clock, and the situation struck them as theatrically
+sound. Also, now that she had gone, the extent to which Miss Hobson had
+acted as a blight was universally recognized.
+
+A spirit of optimism reigned, and cheerful rumours became current. The
+bowler-hatted Teddy had it straight from the lift-boy at his hotel that
+the ban on the theatres was to be lifted on Tuesday at the latest; while
+no less an authority than the cigar-stand girl at the Pontchatrain had
+informed the man who played the butler that Toledo and Cleveland were
+opening to-morrow. It was generally felt that the sun was bursting
+through the clouds and that Fate would soon despair of the hopeless task
+of trying to keep good men down.
+
+Fillmore was himself again. We all have our particular mode of
+self-expression in moments of elation. Fillmore's took the shape of
+buying a new waistcoat and a hundred half-dollar cigars and being very
+fussy about what he had for lunch. It may have been an optical illusion,
+but he appeared to Sally to put on at least six pounds in weight on the
+first day of the new regime. As a serf looking after paper-knives and
+other properties, he had been--for him--almost slim. As a manager
+he blossomed out into soft billowy curves, and when he stood on the
+sidewalk in front of the theatre, gloating over the new posters which
+bore the legend,
+
+     FILLMORE NICHOLAS
+
+     PRESENTS
+
+
+the populace had to make a detour to get round him.
+
+In this era of bubbling joy, it was hard that Sally, the fairy godmother
+responsible for it all, should not have been completely happy too; and
+it puzzled her why she was not. But whatever it was that cast the faint
+shadow refused obstinately to come out from the back of her mind and
+show itself and be challenged. It was not till she was out driving in
+a hired car with Gerald one afternoon on Belle Isle that enlightenment
+came.
+
+Gerald, since the departure of Miss Hobson, had been at his best. Like
+Fillmore, he was a man who responded to the sunshine of prosperity. His
+moodiness had vanished, and all his old charm had returned. And yet...
+it seemed to Sally, as the car slid smoothly through the pleasant woods
+and fields by the river, that there was something that jarred.
+
+Gerald was cheerful and talkative. He, at any rate, found nothing wrong
+with life. He held forth spaciously on the big things he intended to do.
+
+"If this play get over--and it's going to--I'll show 'em!" His jaw was
+squared, and his eyes glowed as they stared into the inviting future.
+"One success--that's all I need--then watch me! I haven't had a chance
+yet, but..."
+
+His voice rolled on, but Sally had ceased to listen. It was the time of
+year when the chill of evening follows swiftly on the mellow warmth
+of afternoon. The sun had gone behind the trees, and a cold wind was
+blowing up from the river. And quite suddenly, as though it was the
+wind that had cleared her mind, she understood what it was that had been
+lurking at the back of her thoughts. For an instant it stood out nakedly
+without concealment, and the world became a forlorn place. She had
+realized the fundamental difference between man's outlook on life and
+woman's.
+
+Success! How men worshipped it, and how little of themselves they had to
+spare for anything else. Ironically, it was the theme of this very play
+of Gerald's which she had saved from destruction. Of all the men she
+knew, how many had any view of life except as a race which they must
+strain every nerve to win, regardless of what they missed by the wayside
+in their haste? Fillmore--Gerald--all of them. There might be a woman in
+each of their lives, but she came second--an afterthought--a thing for
+their spare time. Gerald was everything to her. His success would never
+be more than a side-issue as far as she was concerned. He himself,
+without any of the trappings of success, was enough for her. But she was
+not enough for him. A spasm of futile jealousy shook her. She shivered.
+
+"Cold?" said Gerald. "I'll tell the man to drive back... I don't see any
+reason why this play shouldn't run a year in New York. Everybody says
+it's good... if it does get over, they'll all be after me. I..."
+
+Sally stared out into a bleak world. The sky was a leaden grey, and the
+wind from the river blew with a dismal chill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE--AND GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+When Sally left Detroit on the following Saturday, accompanied by
+Fillmore, who was returning to the metropolis for a few days in order to
+secure offices and generally make his presence felt along Broadway, her
+spirits had completely recovered. She felt guiltily that she had been
+fanciful, even morbid. Naturally men wanted to get on in the world.
+It was their job. She told herself that she was bound up with Gerald's
+success, and that the last thing of which she ought to complain was the
+energy he put into efforts of which she as well as he would reap the
+reward.
+
+To this happier frame of mind the excitement of the last few days had
+contributed. Detroit, that city of amiable audiences, had liked "The
+Primrose Way." The theatre, in fulfilment of Teddy's prophecy, had
+been allowed to open on the Tuesday, and a full house, hungry for
+entertainment after its enforced abstinence, had welcomed the play
+wholeheartedly. The papers, not always in agreement with the applause of
+a first-night audience, had on this occasion endorsed the verdict, with
+agreeable unanimity hailing Gerald as the coming author and Elsa Doland
+as the coming star. There had even been a brief mention of Fillmore as
+the coming manager. But there is always some trifle that jars in our
+greatest moments, and Fillmore's triumph had been almost spoilt by the
+fact that the only notice taken of Gladys Winch was by the critic who
+printed her name--spelt Wunch--in the list of those whom the cast "also
+included."
+
+"One of the greatest character actresses on the stage," said Fillmore
+bitterly, talking over this outrage with Sally on the morning after the
+production.
+
+From this blow, however, his buoyant nature had soon enabled him to
+rally. Life contained so much that was bright that it would have been
+churlish to concentrate the attention on the one dark spot. Business had
+been excellent all through the week. Elsa Doland had got better at
+every performance. The receipt of a long and agitated telegram from Mr.
+Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the passage of
+time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a pleasant incident.
+And, best of all, the great Ike Schumann, who owned half the theatres
+in New York and had been in Detroit superintending one of his musical
+productions, had looked in one evening and stamped "The Primrose Way"
+with the seal of his approval. As Fillmore sat opposite Sally on the
+train, he radiated contentment and importance.
+
+"Yes, do," said Sally, breaking a long silence.
+
+Fillmore awoke from happy dreams.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I said 'Yes, do.' I think you owe it to your position."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Buy a fur coat. Wasn't that what you were meditating about?"
+
+"Don't be a chump," said Fillmore, blushing nevertheless. It was true
+that once or twice during the past week he had toyed negligently, as
+Mr. Bunbury would have said, with the notion, and why not? A fellow must
+keep warm.
+
+"With an astrakhan collar," insisted Sally.
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Fillmore loftily, his great soul ill-attuned
+to this badinage, "what I was really thinking about at the moment was
+something Ike said."
+
+"Ike?"
+
+"Ike Schumann. He's on the train. I met him just now."
+
+"We call him Ike!"
+
+"Of course I call him Ike," said Fillmore heatedly. "Everyone calls him
+Ike."
+
+"He wears a fur coat," Sally murmured.
+
+Fillmore registered annoyance.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't keep on harping on that damned coat. And, anyway,
+why shouldn't I have a fur coat?"
+
+"Fill...! How can you be so brutal as to suggest that I ever said you
+shouldn't? Why, I'm one of the strongest supporters of the fur coat.
+With big cuffs. And you must roll up Fifth Avenue in your car, and I'll
+point and say 'That's my brother!' 'Your brother? No!' 'He is, really.'
+'You're joking. Why, that's the great Fillmore Nicholas.' 'I know. But
+he really is my brother. And I was with him when he bought that coat.'"
+
+"Do leave off about the coat!"
+
+"'And it isn't only the coat,' I shall say. 'It's what's underneath.
+Tucked away inside that mass of fur, dodging about behind that dollar
+cigar, is one to whom we point with pride... '"
+
+Fillmore looked coldly at his watch.
+
+"I've got to go and see Ike Schumann."
+
+"We are in hourly consultation with Ike."
+
+"He wants to see me about the show. He suggests putting it into Chicago
+before opening in New York."
+
+"Oh no," cried Sally, dismayed.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Sally recovered herself. Identifying Gerald so closely with his play,
+she had supposed for a moment that if the piece opened in Chicago it
+would mean a further prolonged separation from him. But of course there
+would be no need, she realized, for him to stay with the company after
+the first day or two.
+
+"You're thinking that we ought to have a New York reputation before
+tackling Chicago. There's a lot to be said for that. Still, it works
+both ways. A Chicago run would help us in New York. Well, I'll have
+to think it over," said Fillmore, importantly, "I'll have to think it
+over."
+
+He mused with drawn brows.
+
+"All wrong," said Sally.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Not a bit like it. The lips should be compressed and the forefinger of
+the right hand laid in a careworn way against the right temple. You've a
+lot to learn. Fill."
+
+"Oh, stop it!"
+
+"Fillmore Nicholas," said Sally, "if you knew what pain it gives me to
+josh my only brother, you'd be sorry for me. But you know it's for your
+good. Now run along and put Ike out of his misery. I know he's waiting
+for you with his watch out. 'You do think he'll come, Miss Nicholas?'
+were his last words to me as he stepped on the train, and oh, Fill, the
+yearning in his voice. 'Why, of course he will, Mr. Schumann,' I said.
+'For all his exalted position, my brother is kindliness itself. Of
+course he'll come.' 'If I could only think so!' he said with a gulp. 'If
+I could only think so. But you know what these managers are. A thousand
+calls on their time. They get brooding on their fur coats and forget
+everything else.' 'Have no fear, Mr. Schumann,' I said. 'Fillmore
+Nicholas is a man of his word.'"
+
+She would have been willing, for she was a girl who never believed in
+sparing herself where it was a question of entertaining her nearest and
+dearest, to continue the dialogue, but Fillmore was already moving down
+the car, his rigid back a silent protest against sisterly levity. Sally
+watched him disappear, then picked up a magazine and began to read.
+
+She had just finished tracking a story of gripping interest through
+a jungle of advertisements, only to find that it was in two parts, of
+which the one she was reading was the first, when a voice spoke.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Nicholas?"
+
+Into the seat before her, recently released from the weight of the
+coming manager, Bruce Carmyle of all people in the world insinuated
+himself with that well-bred air of deferential restraint which never
+left him.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally was considerably startled. Everybody travels nowadays, of course,
+and there is nothing really remarkable in finding a man in America whom
+you had supposed to be in Europe: but nevertheless she was conscious of
+a dream-like sensation, as though the clock had been turned back and a
+chapter of her life reopened which she had thought closed for ever.
+
+"Mr. Carmyle!" she cried.
+
+If Sally had been constantly in Bruce Carmyle's thoughts since they
+had parted on the Paris express, Mr. Carmyle had been very little in
+Sally's--so little, indeed, that she had had to search her memory for a
+moment before she identified him.
+
+"We're always meeting on trains, aren't we?" she went on, her composure
+returning. "I never expected to see you in America."
+
+"I came over."
+
+Sally was tempted to reply that she gathered that, but a sudden
+embarrassment curbed her tongue. She had just remembered that at their
+last meeting she had been abominably rude to this man. She was never
+rude to anyone, without subsequent remorse. She contented herself with a
+tame "Yes."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, "it is a good many years since I have taken
+a real holiday. My doctor seemed to think I was a trifle run down. It
+seemed a good opportunity to visit America. Everybody," said Mr. Carmyle
+oracularly, endeavouring, as he had often done since his ship had left
+England, to persuade himself that his object in making the trip had not
+been merely to renew his acquaintance with Sally, "everybody ought to
+visit America at least once. It is part of one's education."
+
+"And what are your impressions of our glorious country?" said Sally
+rallying.
+
+Mr. Carmyle seemed glad of the opportunity of lecturing on an impersonal
+subject. He, too, though his face had shown no trace of it, had been
+embarrassed in the opening stages of the conversation. The sound of his
+voice restored him.
+
+"I have been visiting Chicago," he said after a brief travelogue.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"A wonderful city."
+
+"I've never seen it. I've come from Detroit."
+
+"Yes, I heard you were in Detroit."
+
+Sally's eyes opened.
+
+"You heard I was in Detroit? Good gracious! How?"
+
+"I--ah--called at your New York address and made inquiries," said Mr.
+Carmyle a little awkwardly.
+
+"But how did you know where I lived?"
+
+"My cousin--er--Lancelot told me."
+
+Sally was silent for a moment. She had much the same feeling that
+comes to the man in the detective story who realizes that he is being
+shadowed. Even if this almost complete stranger had not actually come to
+America in direct pursuit of her, there was no disguising the fact that
+he evidently found her an object of considerable interest. It was a
+compliment, but Sally was not at all sure that she liked it. Bruce
+Carmyle meant nothing to her, and it was rather disturbing to find that
+she was apparently of great importance to him. She seized on the mention
+of Ginger as a lever for diverting the conversation from its present too
+intimate course.
+
+"How is Mr. Kemp?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Carmyle's dark face seemed to become a trifle darker.
+
+"We have had no news of him," he said shortly.
+
+"No news? How do you mean? You speak as though he had disappeared."
+
+"He has disappeared!"
+
+"Good heavens! When?"
+
+"Shortly after I saw you last."
+
+"Disappeared!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle frowned. Sally, watching him, found her antipathy stirring
+again. There was something about this man which she had disliked
+instinctively from the first, a sort of hardness.
+
+"But where has he gone to?"
+
+"I don't know." Mr. Carmyle frowned again. The subject of Ginger was
+plainly a sore one. "And I don't want to know," he went on heatedly,
+a dull flush rising in the cheeks which Sally was sure he had to shave
+twice a day. "I don't care to know. The Family have washed their hands
+of him. For the future he may look after himself as best he can. I
+believe he is off his head."
+
+Sally's rebellious temper was well ablaze now, but she fought it down.
+She would dearly have loved to give battle to Mr. Carmyle--it was odd,
+she felt, how she seemed to have constituted herself Ginger's champion
+and protector--but she perceived that, if she wished, as she did, to
+hear more of her red-headed friend, he must be humoured and conciliated.
+
+"But what happened? What was all the trouble about?"
+
+Mr. Carmyle's eyebrows met.
+
+"He--insulted his uncle. His uncle Donald. He insulted him--grossly. The
+one man in the world he should have made a point of--er--"
+
+"Keeping in with?"
+
+"Yes. His future depended upon him."
+
+"But what did he do?" cried Sally, trying hard to keep a thoroughly
+reprehensible joy out of her voice.
+
+"I have heard no details. My uncle is reticent as to what actually
+took place. He invited Lancelot to dinner to discuss his plans, and
+it appears that Lancelot--defied him. Defied him! He was rude and
+insulting. My uncle refuses to have anything more to do with him.
+Apparently the young fool managed to win some money at the tables at
+Roville, and this seems to have turned his head completely. My uncle
+insists that he is mad. I agree with him. Since the night of that dinner
+nothing has been heard of Lancelot."
+
+Mr. Carmyle broke off to brood once more, and before Sally could speak
+the impressive bulk of Fillmore loomed up in the aisle beside them.
+Explanations seemed to Fillmore to be in order. He cast a questioning
+glance at the mysterious stranger, who, in addition to being in
+conversation with his sister, had collared his seat.
+
+"Oh, hullo, Fill," said Sally. "Fillmore, this is Mr. Carmyle. We met
+abroad. My brother Fillmore, Mr. Carmyle."
+
+Proper introduction having been thus effected, Fillmore approved of Mr.
+Carmyle. His air of being someone in particular appealed to him.
+
+"Strange you meeting again like this," he said affably.
+
+The porter, who had been making up berths along the car, was now
+hovering expectantly in the offing.
+
+"You two had better go into the smoking room," suggested Sally. "I'm
+going to bed."
+
+She wanted to be alone, to think. Mr. Carmyle's tale of a roused and
+revolting Ginger had stirred her.
+
+The two men went off to the smoking-room, and Sally found an empty seat
+and sat down to wait for her berth to be made up. She was aglow with a
+curious exhilaration. So Ginger had taken her advice! Excellent Ginger!
+She felt proud of him. She also had that feeling of complacency,
+amounting almost to sinful pride, which comes to those who give advice
+and find it acted upon. She had the emotions of a creator. After all,
+had she not created this new Ginger? It was she who had stirred him
+up. It was she who had unleashed him. She had changed him from a meek
+dependent of the Family to a ravening creature, who went about the place
+insulting uncles.
+
+It was a feat, there was no denying it. It was something attempted,
+something done: and by all the rules laid down by the poet it should,
+therefore, have earned a night's repose. Yet, Sally, jolted by the
+train, which towards the small hours seemed to be trying out some new
+buck-and-wing steps of its own invention, slept ill, and presently, as
+she lay awake, there came to her bedside the Spectre of Doubt, gaunt and
+questioning. Had she, after all, wrought so well? Had she been wise in
+tampering with this young man's life?
+
+"What about it?" said the Spectre of Doubt.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Daylight brought no comforting answer to the question. Breakfast failed
+to manufacture an easy mind. Sally got off the train, at the Grand
+Central station in a state of remorseful concern. She declined the offer
+of Mr. Carmyle to drive her to the boarding-house, and started to walk
+there, hoping that the crisp morning air would effect a cure.
+
+She wondered now how she could ever have looked with approval on her
+rash act. She wondered what demon of interference and meddling had
+possessed her, to make her blunder into people's lives, upsetting them.
+She wondered that she was allowed to go around loose. She was nothing
+more nor less than a menace to society. Here was an estimable young man,
+obviously the sort of young man who would always have to be assisted
+through life by his relatives, and she had deliberately egged him on
+to wreck his prospects. She blushed hotly as she remembered that mad
+wireless she had sent him from the boat.
+
+Miserable Ginger! She pictured him, his little stock of money gone,
+wandering foot-sore about London, seeking in vain for work; forcing
+himself to call on Uncle Donald; being thrown down the front steps by
+haughty footmen; sleeping on the Embankment; gazing into the dark waters
+of the Thames with the stare of hopelessness; climbing to the parapet
+and...
+
+"Ugh!" said Sally.
+
+She had arrived at the door of the boarding-house, and Mrs. Meecher was
+regarding her with welcoming eyes, little knowing that to all practical
+intents and purposes she had slain in his prime a red-headed young
+man of amiable manners and--when not ill-advised by meddling, muddling
+females--of excellent behaviour.
+
+Mrs. Meecher was friendly and garrulous. Variety, the journal which,
+next to the dog Toto, was the thing she loved best in the world, had
+informed her on the Friday morning that Mr. Foster's play had got over
+big in Detroit, and that Miss Doland had made every kind of hit. It was
+not often that the old alumni of the boarding-house forced their
+way after this fashion into the Hall of Fame, and, according to Mrs.
+Meecher, the establishment was ringing with the news. That blue ribbon
+round Toto's neck was worn in honour of the triumph. There was also,
+though you could not see it, a chicken dinner in Toto's interior, by way
+of further celebration.
+
+And was it true that Mr. Fillmore had bought the piece? A great man, was
+Mrs. Meecher's verdict. Mr. Faucitt had always said so...
+
+"Oh, how is Mr. Faucitt?" Sally asked, reproaching herself for having
+allowed the pressure of other matters to drive all thoughts of her late
+patient from her mind.
+
+"He's gone," said Mrs. Meecher with such relish that to Sally, in her
+morbid condition, the words had only one meaning. She turned white and
+clutched at the banisters.
+
+"Gone!"
+
+"To England," added Mrs. Meecher. Sally was vastly relieved.
+
+"Oh, I thought you meant..."
+
+"Oh no, not that." Mrs. Meecher sighed, for she had been a little
+disappointed in the old gentleman, who started out as such a promising
+invalid, only to fall away into the dullness of robust health once more.
+"He's well enough. I never seen anybody better. You'd think," said Mrs.
+Meecher, bearing up with difficulty under her grievance, "you'd
+think this here new Spanish influenza was a sort of a tonic or
+somep'n, the way he looks now. Of course," she added, trying to find
+justification for a respected lodger, "he's had good news. His brother's
+dead."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Not, I don't mean, that that was good news, far from it, though, come
+to think of it, all flesh is as grass and we all got to be prepared for
+somep'n of the sort breaking loose...but it seems this here new brother
+of his--I didn't know he'd a brother, and I don't suppose you knew he
+had a brother. Men are secretive, ain't they!--this brother of his
+has left him a parcel of money, and Mr. Faucitt he had to get on the
+Wednesday boat quick as he could and go right over to the other side to
+look after things. Wind up the estate, I believe they call it. Left in a
+awful hurry, he did. Sent his love to you and said he'd write. Funny him
+having a brother, now, wasn't it? Not," said Mrs. Meecher, at heart a
+reasonable woman, "that folks don't have brothers. I got two myself, one
+in Portland, Oregon, and the other goodness knows where he is. But what
+I'm trying to say..."
+
+Sally disengaged herself, and went up to her room. For a brief while the
+excitement which comes of hearing good news about those of whom we are
+fond acted as a stimulant, and she felt almost cheerful. Dear old Mr.
+Faucitt. She was sorry for his brother, of course, though she had never
+had the pleasure of his acquaintance and had only just heard that he had
+ever existed; but it was nice to think that her old friend's remaining
+years would be years of affluence.
+
+Presently, however, she found her thoughts wandering back into their
+melancholy groove. She threw herself wearily on the bed. She was tired
+after her bad night.
+
+But she could not sleep. Remorse kept her awake. Besides, she could hear
+Mrs. Meecher prowling disturbingly about the house, apparently in search
+of someone, her progress indicated by creaking boards and the strenuous
+yapping of Toto.
+
+Sally turned restlessly, and, having turned remained for a long instant
+transfixed and rigid. She had seen something, and what she had seen
+was enough to surprise any girl in the privacy of her bedroom. From
+underneath the bed there peeped coyly forth an undeniably masculine shoe
+and six inches of a grey trouser-leg.
+
+Sally bounded to the floor. She was a girl of courage, and she meant to
+probe this matter thoroughly.
+
+"What are you doing under my bed?"
+
+The question was a reasonable one, and evidently seemed to the intruder
+to deserve an answer. There was a muffled sneeze, and he began to crawl
+out.
+
+The shoe came first. Then the legs. Then a sturdy body in a dusty coat.
+And finally there flashed on Sally's fascinated gaze a head of so nearly
+the maximum redness that it could only belong to one person in the
+world.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+Mr. Lancelot Kemp, on all fours, blinked up at her.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. GINGER BECOMES A RIGHT-HAND MAN
+
+
+
+It was not till she saw him actually standing there before her with his
+hair rumpled and a large smut on the tip of his nose, that Sally really
+understood how profoundly troubled she had been about this young man,
+and how vivid had been that vision of him bobbing about on the waters
+of the Thames, a cold and unappreciated corpse. She was a girl of keen
+imagination, and she had allowed her imagination to riot unchecked.
+Astonishment, therefore, at the extraordinary fact of his being there
+was for the moment thrust aside by relief. Never before in her life had
+she experienced such an overwhelming rush of exhilaration. She flung
+herself into a chair and burst into a screech of laughter which even to
+her own ears sounded strange. It struck Ginger as hysterical.
+
+"I say, you know!" said Ginger, as the merriment showed no signs of
+abating. Ginger was concerned. Nasty shock for a girl, finding blighters
+under her bed.
+
+Sally sat up, gurgling, and wiped her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I am glad to see you," she gasped.
+
+"No, really?" said Ginger, gratified. "That's fine." It occurred to him
+that some sort of apology would be a graceful act. "I say, you know,
+awfully sorry. About barging in here, I mean. Never dreamed it was your
+room. Unoccupied, I thought."
+
+"Don't mention it. I ought not to have disturbed you. You were having a
+nice sleep, of course. Do you always sleep on the floor?"
+
+"It was like this..."
+
+"Of course, if you're wearing it for ornament, as a sort of
+beauty-spot," said Sally, "all right. But in case you don't know, you've
+a smut on your nose."
+
+"Oh, my aunt! Not really?"
+
+"Now would I deceive you on an important point like that?"
+
+"Do you mind if I have a look in the glass?"
+
+"Certainly, if you can stand it."
+
+Ginger moved hurriedly to the dressing-table.
+
+"You're perfectly right," he announced, applying his handkerchief.
+
+"I thought I was. I'm very quick at noticing things."
+
+"My hair's a bit rumpled, too."
+
+"Very much so."
+
+"You take my tip," said Ginger, earnestly, "and never lie about under
+beds. There's nothing in it."
+
+"That reminds me. You won't be offended if I asked you something?"
+
+"No, no. Go ahead."
+
+"It's rather an impertinent question. You may resent it."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Well, then, what were you doing under my bed?"
+
+"Oh, under your bed?"
+
+"Yes. Under my bed. This. It's a bed, you know. Mine. My bed. You were
+under it. Why? Or putting it another way, why were you under my bed?"
+
+"I was hiding."
+
+"Playing hide-and-seek? That explains it."
+
+"Mrs. What's-her-name--Beecher--Meecher--was after me."
+
+Sally shook her head disapprovingly.
+
+"You mustn't encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes. It
+unsettles her."
+
+Ginger passed an agitated hand over his forehead.
+
+"It's like this..."
+
+"I hate to keep criticizing your appearance," said Sally, "and
+personally I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you
+put about a pound of dust on it. Your hands are probably grubby."
+
+Ginger inspected them.
+
+"They are!"
+
+"Why not make a really good job of it and have a wash?"
+
+"Do you mind?"
+
+"I'd prefer it."
+
+"Thanks awfully. I mean to say it's your basin, you know, and all that.
+What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Touching the matter of soap..."
+
+"Use mine. We Americans are famous for our hospitality."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"The towel is on your right."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And I've a clothes brush in my bag."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+Splashing followed like a sea-lion taking a dip. "Now, then," said
+Sally, "why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+A careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger's face. "I say, you
+know, that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads, what! Scares
+me! Word was brought that she was on the prowl, so it seemed to me a
+judicious move to take cover till she sort of blew over. If she'd found
+me, she'd have made me take that dog of hers for a walk."
+
+"Toto?"
+
+"Toto. You know," said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, "no dog's
+got a right to be a dog like that. I don't suppose there's anyone
+keener on dogs than I am, but a thing like a woolly rat." He shuddered
+slightly. "Well, one hates to be seen about with it in the public
+streets."
+
+"Why couldn't you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to take
+Toto out?"
+
+"Ah! There you rather touch the spot. You see, the fact of the matter
+is, I'm a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard to
+take what you might call a firm stand."
+
+"But how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday
+before last and you weren't in the place then. You can't have been here
+more than a week."
+
+"I've been here just a week. That's the week I'm behind with."
+
+"But why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville."
+
+"Well, the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night
+and lost a goodish bit of what I'd won. And, somehow or another, when I
+got to America, the stuff seemed to slip away."
+
+"What made you come to America at all?" said Sally, asking the question
+which, she felt, any sensible person would have asked at the opening of
+the conversation.
+
+One of his familiar blushes raced over Ginger's face. "Oh, I thought I
+would. Land of opportunity, you know."
+
+"Have you managed to find any of the opportunities yet?"
+
+"Well, I have got a job of sorts, I'm a waiter at a rummy little place
+on Second Avenue. The salary isn't big, but I'd have wangled enough out
+of it to pay last week's rent, only they docked me a goodish bit for
+breaking plates and what not. The fact is, I'm making rather a hash of
+it."
+
+"Oh, Ginger! You oughtn't to be a waiter!"
+
+"That's what the boss seems to think."
+
+"I mean, you ought to be doing something ever so much better."
+
+"But what? You've no notion how well all these blighters here seem to
+be able to get along without my help. I've tramped all over the place,
+offering my services, but they all say they'll try to carry on as they
+are."
+
+Sally reflected.
+
+"I know!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'll make Fillmore give you a job. I wonder I didn't think of it
+before."
+
+"Fillmore?"
+
+"My brother. Yes, he'll be able to use you."
+
+"What as?"
+
+Sally considered.
+
+"As a--as a--oh, as his right-hand man."
+
+"Does he want a right-hand man?"
+
+"Sure to. He's a young fellow trying to get along. Sure to want a
+right-hand man."
+
+"'M yes," said Ginger reflectively. "Of course, I've never been a
+right-hand man, you know."
+
+"Oh, you'd pick it up. I'll take you round to him now. He's staying at
+the Astor."
+
+"There's just one thing," said Ginger.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"I might make a hash of it."
+
+"Heavens, Ginger! There must be something in this world that you
+wouldn't make a hash of. Don't stand arguing any longer. Are you dry?
+and clean? Very well, then. Let's be off."
+
+"Right ho."
+
+Ginger took a step towards the door, then paused, rigid, with one leg in
+the air, as though some spell had been cast upon him. From the passage
+outside there had sounded a shrill yapping. Ginger looked at Sally. Then
+he looked--longingly--at the bed.
+
+"Don't be such a coward," said Sally, severely.
+
+"Yes, but..."
+
+"How much do you owe Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+"Round about twelve dollars, I think it is."
+
+"I'll pay her."
+
+Ginger flushed awkwardly.
+
+"No, I'm hanged if you will! I mean," he stammered, "it's frightfully
+good of you and all that, and I can't tell you how grateful I am, but
+honestly, I couldn't..."
+
+Sally did not press the point. She liked him the better for a rugged
+independence, which in the days of his impecuniousness her brother
+Fillmore had never dreamed of exhibiting.
+
+"Very well," she said. "Have it your own way. Proud. That's me all over,
+Mabel. Ginger!" She broke off sharply. "Pull yourself together. Where is
+your manly spirit? I'd be ashamed to be such a coward."
+
+"Awfully sorry, but, honestly, that woolly dog..."
+
+"Never mind the dog. I'll see you through."
+
+They came out into the passage almost on top of Toto, who was stalking
+phantom rats. Mrs. Meecher was manoeuvring in the background. Her face
+lit up grimly at the sight of Ginger.
+
+"Mister Kemp! I been looking for you."
+
+Sally intervened brightly.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Meecher," she said, shepherding her young charge through the
+danger zone, "I was so surprised to meet Mr. Kemp here. He is a great
+friend of mine. We met in France. We're going off now to have a long
+talk about old times, and then I'm taking him to see my brother..."
+
+"Toto..."
+
+"Dear little thing! You ought to take him for a walk," said Sally. "It's
+a lovely day. Mr. Kemp was saying just now that he would have liked to
+take him, but we're rather in a hurry and shall probably have to get
+into a taxi. You've no idea how busy my brother is just now. If we're
+late, he'll never forgive us."
+
+She passed on down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Meecher dissatisfied
+but irresolute. There was something about Sally which even in her
+pre-wealthy days had always baffled Mrs. Meecher and cramped her style,
+and now that she was rich and independent she inspired in the chatelaine
+of the boarding-house an emotion which was almost awe. The front door
+had closed before Mrs. Meecher had collected her faculties; and Ginger,
+pausing on the sidewalk, drew a long breath.
+
+"You know, you're wonderful!" he said, regarding Sally with unconcealed
+admiration.
+
+She accepted the compliment composedly.
+
+"Now we'll go and hunt up Fillmore," she said. "But there's no need to
+hurry, of course, really. We'll go for a walk first, and then call at
+the Astor and make him give us lunch. I want to hear all about you. I've
+heard something already. I met your cousin, Mr. Carmyle. He was on the
+train coming from Detroit. Did you know that he was in America?"
+
+"No, I've--er--rather lost touch with the Family."
+
+"So I gathered from Mr. Carmyle. And I feel hideously responsible. It
+was all through me that all this happened."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Of course it was. I made you what you are to-day--I hope I'm
+satisfied--I dragged and dragged you down until the soul within you
+died, so to speak. I know perfectly well that you wouldn't have dreamed
+of savaging the Family as you seem to have done if it hadn't been for
+what I said to you at Roville. Ginger, tell me, what did happen? I'm
+dying to know. Mr. Carmyle said you insulted your uncle!"
+
+"Donald. Yes, we did have a bit of a scrap, as a matter of fact. He made
+me go out to dinner with him and we--er--sort of disagreed. To start
+with, he wanted me to apologize to old Scrymgeour, and I rather gave it
+a miss."
+
+"Noble fellow!"
+
+"Scrymgeour?"
+
+"No, silly! You."
+
+"Oh, ah!" Ginger blushed. "And then there was all that about the soup,
+you know."
+
+"How do you mean, 'all that about the soup'? What about the soup? What
+soup?"
+
+"Well, things sort of hotted up a bit when the soup arrived."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"I mean, the trouble seemed to start, as it were, when the waiter had
+finished ladling out the mulligatawny. Thick soup, you know."
+
+"I know mulligatawny is a thick soup. Yes?"
+
+"Well, my old uncle--I'm not blaming him, don't you know--more his
+misfortune than his fault--I can see that now--but he's got a heavy
+moustache. Like a walrus, rather, and he's a bit apt to inhale the stuff
+through it. And I--well, I asked him not to. It was just a suggestion,
+you know. He cut up fairly rough, and by the time the fish came round
+we were more or less down on the mat chewing holes in one another. My
+fault, probably. I wasn't feeling particularly well-disposed towards
+the Family that night. I'd just had a talk with Bruce--my cousin, you
+know--in Piccadilly, and that had rather got the wind up me. Bruce
+always seems to get on my nerves a bit somehow and--Uncle Donald asking
+me to dinner and all that. By the way, did you get the books?"
+
+"What books?"
+
+"Bruce said he wanted to send you some books. That was why I gave him
+your address." Sally stared.
+
+"He never sent me any books."
+
+"Well, he said he was going to, and I had to tell him where to send
+them."
+
+Sally walked on, a little thoughtfully. She was not a vain girl, but it
+was impossible not to perceive in the light of this fresh evidence that
+Mr. Carmyle had made a journey of three thousand miles with the sole
+object of renewing his acquaintance with her. It did not matter, of
+course, but it was vaguely disturbing. No girl cares to be dogged by a
+man she rather dislikes.
+
+"Go on telling me about your uncle," she said.
+
+"Well, there's not much more to tell. I'd happened to get that wireless
+of yours just before I started out to dinner with him, and I was more or
+less feeling that I wasn't going to stand any rot from the Family. I'd
+got to the fish course, hadn't I? Well, we managed to get through that
+somehow, but we didn't survive the fillet steak. One thing seemed to
+lead to another, and the show sort of bust up. He called me a good many
+things, and I got a bit fed-up, and finally I told him I hadn't any more
+use for the Family and was going to start out on my own. And--well, I
+did, don't you know. And here I am."
+
+Sally listened to this saga breathlessly. More than ever did she feel
+responsible for her young protégé, and any faint qualms which she had
+entertained as to the wisdom of transferring practically the whole
+of her patrimony to the care of so erratic a financier as her brother
+vanished. It was her plain duty to see that Ginger was started well in
+the race of life, and Fillmore was going to come in uncommonly handy.
+
+"We'll go to the Astor now," she said, "and I'll introduce you to
+Fillmore. He's a theatrical manager and he's sure to have something for
+you."
+
+"It's awfully good of you to bother about me."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "I regard you as a grandson. Hail that cab, will
+you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. SALLY IN THE SHADOWS
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger
+Kemp that a sort of golden age had set in. On all the frontiers of her
+little kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each morning
+in a world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most captious
+pessimist could hardly have found anything in it to criticize.
+
+True, Gerald was still a thousand miles away. Going to Chicago to
+superintend the opening of "The Primrose Way"; for Fillmore had acceded
+to his friend Ike's suggestion in the matter of producing it first in
+Chicago, and he had been called in by a distracted manager to revise the
+work of a brother dramatist, whose comedy was in difficulties at one of
+the theatres in that city; and this meant he would have to remain on
+the spot for some time to come. It was disappointing, for Sally had been
+looking forward to having him back in New York in a few days; but she
+refused to allow herself to be depressed. Life as a whole was much
+too satisfactory for that. Life indeed, in every other respect, seemed
+perfect. Fillmore was going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; she
+had found an apartment; her new hat suited her; and "The Primrose Way"
+was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore's account,
+was paying little attention to anything except "The Primrose Way."
+National problems had ceased to interest the citizens. Local problems
+left them cold. Their minds were riveted to the exclusion of all else
+on the problem of how to secure seats. The production of the piece,
+according to Fillmore, had been the most terrific experience that had
+come to stir Chicago since the great fire.
+
+Of all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally's
+thinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger's future had been
+solved. Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore
+Nicholas)--Fillmore would have made the title longer, only that was all
+that would go on the brass plate--and was to be found daily in the outer
+office, his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening
+papers. What exactly he was, even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he felt
+like the man at the wheel, sometimes like a glorified office boy, and
+not so very glorified at that. For the most part he had to prevent the
+mob rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in the
+inner office pondering great schemes.
+
+But, though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger's
+mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchange for the
+fifty dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertain about
+his gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabled him to
+do it. He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadays they
+were meeting frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish her new
+apartment. In this task, he spared no efforts. He said that it kept him
+in condition.
+
+"And what I mean to say is," said Ginger, pausing in the act of carrying
+a massive easy chair to the third spot which Sally had selected in the
+last ten minutes, "if I didn't sweat about a bit and help you after the
+way you got me that job..."
+
+"Ginger, desist," said Sally.
+
+"Yes, but honestly..."
+
+"If you don't stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the next
+room."
+
+"Shall I?" Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and took a new grip.
+"Anything you say."
+
+"Silly! Of course not. The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom
+and the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great lumbering chair in
+them for? All the same, I believe the first we chose was the best."
+
+"Back she goes, then, what?"
+
+Sally reflected frowningly. This business of setting up house was
+causing her much thought.
+
+"No," she decided. "By the window is better." She looked at him
+remorsefully. "I'm giving you a lot of trouble."
+
+"Trouble!" Ginger, accompanied by a chair, staggered across the room.
+"The way I look at it is this." He wiped a bead of perspiration from his
+freckled forehead. "You got me that job, and..."
+
+"Stop!"
+
+"Right ho... Still, you did, you know."
+
+Sally sat down in the armchair and stretched herself. Watching Ginger
+work had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly.
+It was certainly beginning to look cosy. The pictures were up, the
+carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order. For almost the first
+time in her life she had the restful sensation of being at home. She had
+always longed, during the past three years of boarding-house existence,
+for a settled abode, a place where she could lock the door on herself
+and be alone. The apartment was small, but it was undeniably a haven.
+She looked about her and could see no flaw in it... except... She had a
+sudden sense of something missing.
+
+"Hullo!" she said. "Where's that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
+the mantelpiece yesterday."
+
+His exertions seemed to have brought the blood to Ginger's face. He was
+a rich red. He inspected the mantelpiece narrowly.
+
+"No. No photograph here."
+
+"I know there isn't. But it was there yesterday. Or was it? I know I
+meant to put it there. Perhaps I forgot. It's the most beautiful thing
+you ever saw. Not a bit like me; but what of that? They touch 'em up in
+the dark-room, you know. I value it because it looks the way I should
+like to look if I could."
+
+"I've never had a beautiful photograph taken of myself," said Ginger,
+solemnly, with gentle regret.
+
+"Cheer up!"
+
+"Oh, I don't mind. I only mentioned..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "pardon my interrupting your remarks, which I know
+are valuable, but this chair is--not--right! It ought to be where it was
+at the beginning. Could you give your imitation of a pack-mule just
+once more? And after that I'll make you some tea. If there's any tea--or
+milk--or cups."
+
+"There are cups all right. I know, because I smashed two the day before
+yesterday. I'll nip round the corner for some milk, shall I?"
+
+"Yes, please nip. All this hard work has taken it out of me terribly."
+
+Over the tea-table Sally became inquisitive.
+
+"What I can't understand about this job of yours. Ginger--which as you
+are just about to observe, I was noble enough to secure for you--is the
+amount of leisure that seems to go with it. How is it that you are able
+to spend your valuable time--Fillmore's valuable time, rather--juggling
+with my furniture every day?"
+
+"Oh, I can usually get off."
+
+"But oughtn't you to be at your post doing--whatever it is you do? What
+do you do?"
+
+Ginger stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.
+
+"Well, I sort of mess about, you know." He pondered. "I interview divers
+blighters and tell 'em your brother is out and take their names and
+addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing."
+
+"Does Fillmore consult you much?"
+
+"He lets me read some of the plays that are sent in. Awful tosh most of
+them. Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an evening."
+
+"As a treat?"
+
+"To see some special act, you know. To report on it. In case he might
+want to use it for this revue of his."
+
+"Which revue?"
+
+"Didn't you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather. A whacking
+big affair. Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing."
+
+"But--my goodness!" Sally was alarmed. It was just like Fillmore, she
+felt, to go branching out into these expensive schemes when he ought to
+be moving warily and trying to consolidate the small success he had had.
+All his life he had thought in millions where the prudent man would have
+been content with hundreds. An inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled
+eternally within him. "That's rather ambitious," she said.
+
+"Yes. Ambitious sort of cove, your brother. Quite the Napoleon."
+
+"I shall have to talk to him," said Sally decidedly. She was annoyed
+with Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
+peaceful and happy and prosperous and no anxiety anywhere, till he had
+spoiled things. Now she would have to start worrying again.
+
+"Of course," argued Ginger, "there's money in revues. Over in London
+fellows make pots out of them."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It won't do," she said. "And I'll tell you another thing that won't do.
+This armchair. Of course it ought to be over by the window. You can see
+that yourself, can't you."
+
+"Absolutely!" said Ginger, patiently preparing for action once more.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally's anxiety with regard to her ebullient brother was not lessened by
+the receipt shortly afterwards of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
+
+Have you been feeding Fillmore meat?
+
+the telegram ran: and, while Sally could not have claimed that she
+completely understood it, there was a sinister suggestion about
+the message which decided her to wait no longer before making
+investigations. She tore herself away from the joys of furnishing and
+went round to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical
+Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas) without delay.
+
+Ginger, she discovered on arrival, was absent from his customary post,
+his place in the outer office being taken by a lad of tender years and
+pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a proud reserve on hearing
+Sally's name, and told her to walk right in. Sally walked right in, and
+found Fillmore with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared
+to be costume-designs.
+
+"Ah, Sally!" he said in the distrait, tired voice which speaks of vast
+preoccupations. Prosperity was still putting in its silent, deadly work
+on the Hope of the American Theatre. What, even at as late an epoch as
+the return from Detroit, had been merely a smooth fullness around the
+angle of the jaw was now frankly and without disguise a double chin. He
+was wearing a new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. "I am rather busy,"
+he went on. "Always glad to see you, but I am rather busy. I have a
+hundred things to attend to."
+
+"Well, attend to me. That'll only make a hundred and one. Fill, what's
+all this I hear about a revue?"
+
+Fillmore looked as like a small boy caught in the act of stealing jam
+as it is possible for a great theatrical manager to look. He had been
+wondering in his darker moments what Sally would say about that project
+when she heard of it, and he had hoped that she would not hear of it
+until all the preparations were so complete that interference would be
+impossible. He was extremely fond of Sally, but there was, he knew,
+a lamentable vein of caution in her make-up which might lead her to
+criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry on if women are buzzing
+round criticizing all the time? He picked up a pen and put it down;
+buttoned his waistcoat and unbuttoned it; and scratched his ear with one
+of the costume-designs.
+
+"Oh yes, the revue!"
+
+"It's no good saying 'Oh yes'! You know perfectly well it's a crazy
+idea."
+
+"Really... these business matters... this interference..."
+
+"I don't want to run your affairs for you, Fill, but that money of mine
+does make me a sort of partner, I suppose, and I think I have a right to
+raise a loud yell of agony when I see you risking it on a..."
+
+"Pardon me," said Fillmore loftily, looking happier. "Let me explain.
+Women never understand business matters. Your money is tied up
+exclusively in 'The Primrose Way,' which, as you know, is a tremendous
+success. You have nothing whatever to worry about as regards any new
+production I may make."
+
+"I'm not worrying about the money. I'm worrying about you."
+
+A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
+
+"Don't be alarmed about me. I'm all right."
+
+"You aren't all right. You've no business, when you've only just got
+started as a manager, to be rushing into an enormous production like
+this. You can't afford it."
+
+"My dear child, as I said before, women cannot understand these things.
+A man in my position can always command money for a new venture."
+
+"Do you mean to say you have found somebody silly enough to put up
+money?"
+
+"Certainly. I don't know that there is any secret about it. Your
+friend, Mr. Carmyle, has taken an interest in some of my forthcoming
+productions."
+
+"What!" Sally had been disturbed before, but she was aghast now.
+
+This was something she had never anticipated. Bruce Carmyle seemed to be
+creeping into her life like an advancing tide. There appeared to be no
+eluding him. Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do nothing
+but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible.
+
+Fillmore misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice.
+
+"It's quite all right," he assured her. "He's a very rich man. Large
+private means, besides his big income. Even if anything goes wrong..."
+
+"It isn't that. It's..."
+
+The hopelessness of explaining to Fillmore stopped Sally. And while she
+was chafing at this new complication which had come to upset the orderly
+routine of her life there was an outburst of voices in the other office.
+Ginger's understudy seemed to be endeavouring to convince somebody that
+the Big Chief was engaged and not to be intruded upon. In this he was
+unsuccessful, for the door opened tempestuously and Miss Winch sailed
+in.
+
+"Fillmore, you poor nut," said Miss Winch, for though she might wrap up
+her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications, when
+it came to the spoken word she was directness itself, "stop picking
+straws in your hair and listen to me. You're dippy!"
+
+The last time Sally had seen Fillmore's fiancée, she had been impressed
+by her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch, in Detroit, had seemed a girl
+whom nothing could ruffle. That she had lapsed now from this serene
+placidity, struck Sally as ominous. Slightly though she knew her, she
+felt that it could be no ordinary happening that had so animated her
+sister-in-law-to-be.
+
+"Ah! Here you are!" said Fillmore. He had started to his feet
+indignantly at the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in its den,
+but calm had returned when he saw who the intruder was.
+
+"Yes, here I am!" Miss Winch dropped despairingly into a swivel-chair,
+and endeavoured to restore herself with a stick of chewing-gum.
+"Fillmore, darling, you're the sweetest thing on earth, and I love you,
+but on present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale and
+they'd give you the royal suite."
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"What do you think?" demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sally.
+
+"I've just been telling him," said Sally, welcoming this ally, "I
+think it's absurd at this stage of things for him to put on an enormous
+revue..."
+
+"Revue?" Miss Winch stopped in the act of gnawing her gum. "What revue?"
+She flung up her arms. "I shall have to swallow this gum," she said.
+"You can't chew with your head going round. Are you putting on a revue
+too?"
+
+Fillmore was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded
+look.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," he replied in a tone of some feverishness. "I
+wish you girls would leave me to manage..."
+
+"Dippy!" said Miss Winch once more. "Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot,
+Matteawan." She swivelled round to Sally again. "Say, listen! This boy
+must be stopped. We must form a gang in his best interests and get
+him put away. What do you think he proposes doing? I'll give you three
+guesses. Oh, what's the use? You'd never hit it. This poor wandering lad
+has got it all fixed up to star me--me--in a new show!"
+
+Fillmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved it
+protestingly.
+
+"I have used my own judgment..."
+
+"Yes, sir!" proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption. "That's
+what he's planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm sitting
+peacefully in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a few cents'
+worth of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper, when the
+telephone rings. Gentleman below would like to see me. Oh, ask him to
+wait. Business of flinging on a few clothes. Down in elevator. Bright
+sunrise effects in lobby."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?"
+
+"The gentleman had a head of red hair which had to be seen to be
+believed," explained Miss Winch. "Lit up the lobby. Management had
+switched off all the electrics for sake of economy. An Englishman he
+was. Nice fellow. Named Kemp."
+
+"Oh, is Ginger in Chicago?" said Sally. "I wondered why he wasn't on his
+little chair in the outer office.
+
+"I sent Kemp to Chicago," said Fillmore, "to have a look at the show. It
+is my policy, if I am unable to pay periodical visits myself, to send a
+representative..."
+
+"Save it up for the long winter evenings," advised Miss Winch, cutting
+in on this statement of managerial tactics. "Mr. Kemp may have been
+there to look at the show, but his chief reason for coming was to tell
+me to beat it back to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted
+me on the spot, he told me, so that I could sit around in this office
+here, interviewing my supporting company. Me! Can you or can you not,"
+inquired Miss Winch frankly, "tie it?"
+
+"Well..." Sally hesitated.
+
+"Don't say it! I know it just as well as you do. It's too sad for
+words."
+
+"You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys," said Fillmore
+reproachfully. "I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical
+matters--I have seen a good deal of acting--and I assure you that as a
+character-actress you..."
+
+Miss Winch rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically,
+and sat down again. She produced another stick of chewing-gum, then
+shook her head and replaced it in her bag.
+
+"You're a darling old thing to talk like that," she said, "and I hate to
+wake you out of your daydreams, but, honestly, Fillmore, dear, do just
+step out of the padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I know
+exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean. You took
+Elsa Doland out of a minor part and made her a star overnight. She goes
+to Chicago, and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As a
+matter of fact," she said to Sally with enthusiasm, for hers was an
+honest and generous nature, "you can't realize, not having seen her
+play there, what an amazing hit she has made. She really is a sensation.
+Everybody says she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very
+well, then, what does Fillmore do? The poor fish claps his hand to his
+forehead and cries 'Gadzooks! An idea! I've done it before, I'll do it
+again. I'm the fellow who can make a star out of anything.' And he picks
+on me!"
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"Now, the flaw in the scheme is this. Elsa is a genius, and if he hadn't
+made her a star somebody else would have done. But little Gladys? That's
+something else again." She turned to Sally. "You've seen me in action,
+and let me tell you you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's part,
+with a tray to carry on in act one and a couple of 'Yes, madam's' in act
+two, and I'm there! Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it comes to
+saying 'Yes, madam,' and I'm willing to back myself for gold, notes,
+or lima beans against Sarah Bernhardt as a tray-carrier. But there I
+finish. That lets me out. And anybody who thinks otherwise is going to
+lose a lot of money. Between ourselves the only thing I can do really
+well is to cook..."
+
+"My dear Gladys!" cried Fillmore revolted.
+
+"I'm a heaven-born cook, and I don't mind notifying the world to that
+effect. I can cook a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
+mother for it. Also my English pork-pies! One of these days I'll take
+an afternoon off and assemble one for you. You'd be surprised! But
+acting--no. I can't do it, and I don't want to do it. I only went on the
+stage for fun, and my idea of fun isn't to plough through a star part
+with all the critics waving their axes in the front row, and me knowing
+all the time that it's taking money out of Fillmore's bankroll that
+ought to be going towards buying the little home with stationary
+wash-tubs... Well, that's that, Fillmore, old darling. I thought I'd
+just mention it."
+
+Sally could not help being sorry for Fillmore. He was sitting with his
+chin on his hands, staring moodily before him--Napoleon at Elba. It was
+plain that this project of taking Miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
+and hurling her to the heights had been very near his heart.
+
+"If that's how you feel," he said in a stricken voice, "there is nothing
+more to say."
+
+"Oh, yes there is. We will now talk about this revue of yours. It's
+off!"
+
+Fillmore bounded to his feet; he thumped the desk with a well-nourished
+fist. A man can stand just so much.
+
+"It is not off! Great heavens! It's too much! I will not put up with
+this interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied and
+hampered. Here am I, a man of broad vision and... and... broad vision...
+I form my plans... my plans... I form them... I shape my schemes... and
+what happens? A horde of girls flock into my private office while I
+am endeavouring to concentrate... and concentrate... I won't stand it.
+Advice, yes. Interference, no. I... I... I... and kindly remember that!"
+
+The door closed with a bang. A fainter detonation announced the
+whirlwind passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down the
+corridor.
+
+Sally looked at Miss Winch, stunned. A roused and militant Fillmore was
+new to her.
+
+Miss Winch took out the stick of chewing-gum again and unwrapped it.
+
+"Isn't he cute!" she said. "I hope he doesn't get the soft kind," she
+murmured, chewing reflectively.
+
+"The soft kind."
+
+"He'll be back soon with a box of candy," explained Miss Winch, "and he
+will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the
+other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's
+beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard
+work to get that boy down to earth again." Miss Winch heaved a gentle
+sigh. "I should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to
+pay the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out." She bit
+meditatively on her chewing-gum. "Not," she said, "that it matters. I'd
+be just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore
+was there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him." Her freckled face
+glowed. "He grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
+I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's
+the most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love
+about him. That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps
+always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump.
+Tap his forehead first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the
+unhappy marriages come from the husband having brains. What good are
+brains to a man? They only unsettle him." She broke off and scrutinized
+Sally closely. "Say, what do you do with your skin?"
+
+She spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.
+
+"What do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me."
+
+"Well," said Miss Winch enviously, "I wish I could train my darned fool
+of a complexion to get that way. Freckles are the devil. When I was
+eight I had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
+adding to it right along. Some folks say lemon-juice'll cure 'em. Mine
+lap up all I give 'em and ask for more. There's only one way of getting
+rid of freckles, and that is to saw the head off at the neck."
+
+"But why do you want to get rid of them?"
+
+"Why? Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband's
+love, doesn't enjoy going about looking like something out of a dime
+museum."
+
+"How absurd! Fillmore worships freckles."
+
+"Did he tell you so?" asked Miss Winch eagerly.
+
+"Not in so many words, but you can see it in his eye."
+
+"Well, he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I
+will say that. And, what's more, I don't think feminine loveliness
+means much to Fillmore, or he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is
+calculated to give a girl a jar, you must admit, when she picks up a
+magazine and reads an advertisement of a face-cream beginning, 'Your
+husband is growing cold to you. Can you blame him? Have you really tried
+to cure those unsightly blemishes?'--meaning what I've got. Still, I
+haven't noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right."
+
+It was a subdued Sally who received Ginger when he called at her
+apartment a few days later on his return from Chicago. It seemed to her,
+thinking over the recent scene, that matters were even worse than
+she had feared. This absurd revue, which she had looked on as a mere
+isolated outbreak of foolishness, was, it would appear, only a specimen
+of the sort of thing her misguided brother proposed to do, a sample
+selected at random from a wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Fillmore,
+there was no longer any room for doubt, was preparing to express
+his great soul on a vast scale. And she could not dissuade him. A
+humiliating thought. She had grown so accustomed through the years to
+being the dominating mind that this revolt from her authority made her
+feel helpless and inadequate. Her self-confidence was shaken.
+
+And Bruce Carmyle was financing him... It was illogical, but Sally could
+not help feeling that when--she had not the optimism to say "if"--he
+lost his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him, as
+if the disaster had been her fault. She disliked, with a whole-hearted
+intensity, the thought of being under an obligation to Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Ginger said he had looked in to inspect the furniture on the chance that
+Sally might want it shifted again: but Sally had no criticisms to make
+on that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She sat Ginger
+down in the armchair and started to pour out her troubles. It soothed
+her to talk to him. In a world which had somehow become chaotic again
+after an all too brief period of peace, he was solid and consoling.
+
+"I shouldn't worry," observed Ginger with Winch-like calm, when she had
+finished drawing for him the picture of a Fillmore rampant against a
+background of expensive revues. Sally nearly shook him.
+
+"It's all very well to tell me not to worry," she cried. "How can I help
+worrying? Fillmore's simply a baby, and he's just playing the fool. He
+has lost his head completely. And I can't stop him! That is the awful
+part of it. I used to be able to look him in the eye, and he would
+wag his tail and crawl back into his basket, but now I seem to have no
+influence at all over him. He just snorts and goes on running round in
+circles, breathing fire."
+
+Ginger did not abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining.
+
+"I think you are making too much of all this, you know. I mean to say,
+it's quite likely he's found some mug... what I mean is, it's just
+possible that your brother isn't standing the entire racket himself.
+Perhaps some rich Johnnie has breezed along with a pot of money. It
+often happens like that, you know. You read in the paper that some
+manager or other is putting on some show or other, when really the chap
+who's actually supplying the pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in
+the background."
+
+"That is just what has happened, and it makes it worse than ever.
+Fillmore tells me that your cousin, Mr. Carmyle, is providing the
+money."
+
+This did interest Ginger. He sat up with a jerk.
+
+"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," said Sally, still agitated but pleased that she had at last
+shaken him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
+
+Ginger was scowling.
+
+"That's a bit off," he observed.
+
+"I think so, too."
+
+"I don't like that."
+
+"Nor do I."
+
+"Do you know what I think?" said Ginger, ever a man of plain speech and
+a reckless plunger into delicate subjects. "The blighter's in love with
+you."
+
+Sally flushed. After examining the evidence before her, she had reached
+the same conclusion in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed
+her to hear the thing put into bald words.
+
+"I know Bruce," continued Ginger, "and, believe me, he isn't the sort of
+cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly good motive. Of course,
+he's got tons of money. His old guvnor was the Carmyle of Carmyle, Brent
+& Co.--coal mines up in Wales, and all that sort of thing--and I suppose
+he must have left Bruce something like half a million. No need for the
+fellow to have worked at all, if he hadn't wanted to. As far as having
+the stuff goes, he's in a position to back all the shows he wants to.
+But the point is, it's right out of his line. He doesn't do that sort
+of thing. Not a drop of sporting blood in the chap. Why I've known him
+stick the whole family on to me just because it got noised about that
+I'd dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National. If he's really
+brought himself to the point of shelling out on a risky proposition like
+a show, it means something, take my word for it. And I don't see what
+else it can mean except... well, I mean to say, is it likely that he's
+doing it simply to make your brother look on him as a good egg and a
+pal, and all that sort of thing?"
+
+"No, it's not," agreed Sally. "But don't let's talk about it any more.
+Tell me all about your trip to Chicago."
+
+"All right. But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don't see
+how it matters to you one way or the other. You're engaged to another
+fellow, and when Bruce rolls up and says: 'What about it?' you've simply
+to tell him that the shot isn't on the board and will he kindly melt
+away. Then you hand him his hat and out he goes."
+
+Sally gave a troubled laugh.
+
+"You think that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl
+enjoys that sort of thing? Oh, what's the use of talking about it? It's
+horrible, and no amount of arguing will make it anything else. Do let's
+change the subject. How did you like Chicago?"
+
+"Oh, all right. Rather a grubby sort of place."
+
+"So I've always heard. But you ought not to mind that, being a
+Londoner."
+
+"Oh, I didn't mind it. As a matter of fact, I had rather a good time.
+Saw one or two shows, you know. Got in on my face as your brother's
+representative, which was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy how
+you run into people when you move about, isn't it?"
+
+"You talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
+shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?"
+
+"Chap I hadn't seen for years. Was at school with him, as a matter of
+fact. Fellow named Foster. But I expect you know him, too, don't you? By
+name, at any rate. He wrote your brother's show."
+
+Sally's heart jumped.
+
+"Oh! Did you meet Gerald--Foster?"
+
+"Ran into him one night at the theatre."
+
+"And you were really at school with him?"
+
+"Yes. He was in the footer team with me my last year."
+
+"Was he a scrum-half, too?" asked Sally, dimpling.
+
+Ginger looked shocked.
+
+"You don't have two scrum-halves in a team," he said, pained at this
+ignorance on a vital matter. "The scrum-half is the half who works the
+scrum and..."
+
+"Yes, you told me that at Roville. What was Gerald--Mr. Foster then? A
+six and seven-eighths, or something?"
+
+"He was a wing-three," said Ginger with a gravity befitting his theme.
+"Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve. But he would not learn to
+give the reverse pass inside to the centre."
+
+"Ghastly!" said Sally.
+
+"If," said Ginger earnestly, "a wing's bottled up by his wing and the
+back, the only thing he can do, if he doesn't want to be bundled into
+touch, is to give the reverse pass."
+
+"I know," said Sally. "If I've thought that once, I've thought it a
+hundred times. How nice it must have been for you meeting again. I
+suppose you had all sorts of things to talk about?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"Not such a frightful lot. We were never very thick. You see, this chap
+Foster was by way of being a bit of a worm."
+
+"What!"
+
+"A tick," explained Ginger. "A rotter. He was pretty generally barred at
+school. Personally, I never had any use for him at all."
+
+Sally stiffened. She had liked Ginger up to that moment, and later on,
+no doubt, she would resume her liking for him: but in the immediate
+moment which followed these words she found herself regarding him with
+stormy hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like that about
+Gerald?
+
+Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without a care in the world,
+proceeded to develop his theme.
+
+"It's a rummy thing about school. Generally, if a fellow's good at
+games--in the cricket team or the footer team and so forth--he
+can hardly help being fairly popular. But this blighter Foster
+somehow--nobody seemed very keen on him. Of course, he had a few of his
+own pals, but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss. It may have been
+because he was a bit sidey... had rather an edge on him, you know...
+Personally, the reason I barred him was because he wasn't straight.
+You didn't notice it if you weren't thrown a goodish bit with him, of
+course, but he and I were in the same house, and..."
+
+Sally managed to control her voice, though it shook a little.
+
+"I ought to tell you," she said, and her tone would have warned him had
+he been less occupied, "that Mr. Foster is a great friend of mine."
+
+But Ginger was intent on the lighting of his cigarette, a delicate
+operation with the breeze blowing in through the open window. His head
+was bent, and he had formed his hands into a protective framework which
+half hid his face.
+
+"If you take my tip," he mumbled, "you'll drop him. He's a wrong 'un."
+
+He spoke with the absent-minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sally could
+keep the conflagration under no longer. She was aflame from head to
+foot.
+
+"It may interest you to know," she said, shooting the words out like
+bullets from between clenched teeth, "that Gerald Foster is the man I am
+engaged to marry."
+
+Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands. Amazement was in his
+eyes, and a sort of horror. The cigarette hung limply from his mouth. He
+did not speak, but sat looking at her, dazed. Then the match burnt his
+fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The sharp sting of it seemed to
+wake him. He blinked.
+
+"You're joking," he said, feebly. There was a note of wistfulness in his
+voice. "It isn't true?"
+
+Sally kicked the leg of her chair irritably. She read insolent
+disapproval into the words. He was daring to criticize...
+
+"Of course it's true..."
+
+"But..." A look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face. He
+hesitated. Then, with the air of a man bracing himself to a dreadful,
+but unavoidable, ordeal, he went on. He spoke gruffly, and his eyes,
+which had been fixed on Sally's, wandered down to the match on the
+carpet. It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot on it.
+
+"Foster's married," he said shortly. "He was married the day before I
+left Chicago."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It seemed to Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over
+the room like a living presence, even the noises in the street had
+ceased, as though what he had said had been a spell cutting Sally
+and himself off from the outer world. Only the little clock on the
+mantelpiece ticked--ticked--ticked, like a heart beating fast.
+
+He stared straight before him, conscious of a strange rigidity. He felt
+incapable of movement, as he had sometimes felt in nightmares; and not
+for all the wealth of America could he have raised his eyes just then to
+Sally's face. He could see her hands. They had tightened on the arm of
+the chair. The knuckles were white.
+
+He was blaming himself bitterly now for his oafish clumsiness in
+blurting out the news so abruptly. And yet, curiously, in his remorse
+there was something of elation. Never before had he felt so near to her.
+It was as though a barrier that had been between them had fallen.
+
+Something moved... It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing. The fingers
+loosened their grip, tightened again, then, as if reluctantly relaxed
+once more. The blood flowed back.
+
+"Your cigarette's out."
+
+Ginger started violently. Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
+had struck him like a blow.
+
+"Oh, thanks!"
+
+He forced himself to light another match. It sputtered noisily in the
+stillness. He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
+
+Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically. For an instant he had seen
+Sally's face, white-cheeked and bright-eyed, the chin tilted like a flag
+flying over a stricken field. His mood changed. All his emotions had
+crystallized into a dull, futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man
+a thousand miles away.
+
+Sally spoke again. Her voice sounded small and far off, an odd flatness
+in it.
+
+"Married?"
+
+Ginger threw his cigarette out of the window. He was shocked to find
+that he was smoking. Nothing could have been farther from his intention
+than to smoke. He nodded.
+
+"Whom has he married?"
+
+Ginger coughed. Something was sticking in his throat, and speech was
+difficult.
+
+"A girl called Doland."
+
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Elsa Doland." Sally drummed with her fingers on the arm of the chair.
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+There was silence again. The little clock ticked fussily on the
+mantelpiece. Out in the street automobile horns were blowing. From
+somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated train.
+Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious, unreal sense
+of novelty. She felt as though she had been projected into another world
+where everything was new and strange and horrible--everything except
+Ginger. About him, in the mere sight of him, there was something known
+and heartening.
+
+Suddenly, she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was behaving
+extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out of herself and to be
+regarding the scene from outside, regarding it coolly and critically;
+and it was plain to her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
+bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy.
+He had said nothing and he was not looking at her. And Sally felt that
+sympathy just now would be torture, and that she could not have borne to
+be looked at.
+
+Ginger was wonderful. In that curious, detached spirit that had come
+upon her, she examined him impartially, and gratitude welled up from the
+very depths of her. There he sat, saying nothing and doing nothing, as
+if he knew that all she needed, the only thing that could keep her sane
+in this world of nightmare, was the sight of that dear, flaming head
+of his that made her feel that the world had not slipped away from her
+altogether.
+
+Ginger did not move. The room had grown almost dark now. A spear of
+light from a street lamp shone in through the window.
+
+Sally got up abruptly. Slowly, gradually, inch by inch, the great
+suffocating cloud which had been crushing her had lifted. She felt alive
+again. Her black hour had gone, and she was back in the world of
+living things once more. She was afire with a fierce, tearing pain that
+tormented her almost beyond endurance, but dimly she sensed the fact
+that she had passed through something that was worse than pain, and,
+with Ginger's stolid presence to aid her, had passed triumphantly.
+
+"Go and have dinner, Ginger," she said. "You must be starving."
+
+Ginger came to life like a courtier in the palace of the Sleeping
+Beauty. He shook himself, and rose stiffly from his chair.
+
+"Oh, no," he said. "Not a bit, really."
+
+Sally switched on the light and set him blinking. She could bear to be
+looked at now.
+
+"Go and dine," she said. "Dine lavishly and luxuriously. You've
+certainly earned..." Her voice faltered for a moment. She held out her
+hand. "Ginger," she said shakily, "I... Ginger, you're a pal."
+
+When he had gone. Sally sat down and began to cry. Then she dried her
+eyes in a business-like manner.
+
+"There, Miss Nicholas!" she said. "You couldn't have done that an hour
+ago... We will now boil you an egg for your dinner and see how that
+suits you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. SALLY RUNS AWAY
+
+
+
+If Ginger Kemp had been asked to enumerate his good qualities, it is not
+probable that he would have drawn up a very lengthy list. He might have
+started by claiming for himself the virtue of meaning well, but after
+that he would have had to chew the pencil in prolonged meditation. And,
+even if he could eventually have added one or two further items to the
+catalogue, tact and delicacy of feeling would not have been among them.
+
+Yet, by staying away from Sally during the next few days he showed
+considerable delicacy. It was not easy to stay away from her, but he
+forced himself to do so. He argued from his own tastes, and was strongly
+of opinion that in times of travail, solitude was what the sufferer most
+desired. In his time he, too, had had what he would have described as
+nasty jars, and on these occasions all he had asked was to be allowed to
+sit and think things over and fight his battle out by himself.
+
+By Saturday, however, he had come to the conclusion that some form of
+action might now be taken. Saturday was rather a good day for picking up
+the threads again. He had not to go to the office, and, what was still
+more to the point, he had just drawn his week's salary. Mrs. Meecher had
+deftly taken a certain amount of this off him, but enough remained to
+enable him to attempt consolation on a fairly princely scale. There
+presented itself to him as a judicious move the idea of hiring a car and
+taking Sally out to dinner at one of the road-houses he had heard about
+up the Boston Post Road. He examined the scheme. The more he looked at
+it, the better it seemed.
+
+He was helped to this decision by the extraordinary perfection of the
+weather. The weather of late had been a revelation to Ginger. It was his
+first experience of America's Indian Summer, and it had quite overcome
+him. As he stood on the roof of Mrs. Meecher's establishment on the
+Saturday morning, thrilled by the velvet wonder of the sunshine, it
+seemed to him that the only possible way of passing such a day was to
+take Sally for a ride in an open car.
+
+The Maison Meecher was a lofty building on one of the side-streets at
+the lower end of the avenue. From its roof, after you had worked
+your way through the groves of washing which hung limply from the
+clothes-line, you could see many things of interest. To the left
+lay Washington Square, full of somnolent Italians and roller-skating
+children; to the right was a spectacle which never failed to intrigue
+Ginger, the high smoke-stacks of a Cunard liner moving slowly down the
+river, sticking up over the house-tops as if the boat was travelling
+down Ninth Avenue.
+
+To-day there were four of these funnels, causing Ginger to deduce the
+Mauritania. As the boat on which he had come over from England, the
+Mauritania had a sentimental interest for him. He stood watching her
+stately progress till the higher buildings farther down the town shut
+her from his sight; then picked his way through the washing and went
+down to his room to get his hat. A quarter of an hour later he was
+in the hall-way of Sally's apartment house, gazing with ill-concealed
+disgust at the serge-clad back of his cousin Mr. Carmyle, who was
+engaged in conversation with a gentleman in overalls.
+
+No care-free prospector, singing his way through the Mojave Desert
+and suddenly finding himself confronted by a rattlesnake, could have
+experienced so abrupt a change of mood as did Ginger at this revolting
+spectacle. Even in their native Piccadilly it had been unpleasant to run
+into Mr. Carmyle. To find him here now was nothing short of nauseating.
+Only one thing could have brought him to this place. Obviously, he must
+have come to see Sally; and with a sudden sinking of the heart Ginger
+remembered the shiny, expensive automobile which he had seen waiting at
+the door. He, it was clear, was not the only person to whom the idea had
+occurred of taking Sally for a drive on this golden day.
+
+He was still standing there when Mr. Carmyle swung round with a frown
+on his dark face which seemed to say that he had not found the janitor's
+conversation entertaining. The sight of Ginger plainly did nothing to
+lighten his gloom.
+
+"Hullo!" he said.
+
+"Hullo!" said Ginger.
+
+Uncomfortable silence followed these civilities.
+
+"Have you come to see Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"She isn't here," said Mr. Carmyle, and the fact that he had found
+someone to share the bad news, seemed to cheer him a little.
+
+"Not here?"
+
+"No. Apparently..." Bruce Carmyle's scowl betrayed that resentment which
+a well-balanced man cannot but feel at the unreasonableness of others.
+"... Apparently, for some extraordinary reason, she has taken it into
+her head to dash over to England."
+
+Ginger tottered. The unexpectedness of the blow was crushing. He
+followed his cousin out into the sunshine in a sort of dream. Bruce
+Carmyle was addressing the driver of the expensive automobile.
+
+"I find I shall not want the car. You can take it back to the garage."
+
+The chauffeur, a moody man, opened one half-closed eye and spat
+cautiously. It was the way Rockefeller would have spat when approaching
+the crisis of some delicate financial negotiation.
+
+"You'll have to pay just the same," he observed, opening his other eye
+to lend emphasis to the words.
+
+"Of course I shall pay," snapped Mr. Carmyle, irritably. "How much is
+it?"
+
+Money passed. The car rolled off.
+
+"Gone to England?" said Ginger, dizzily.
+
+"Yes, gone to England."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"How the devil do I know why?" Bruce Carmyle would have found his best
+friend trying at this moment. Gaping Ginger gave him almost a physical
+pain. "All I know is what the janitor told me, that she sailed on the
+Mauretania this morning."
+
+The tragic irony of this overcame Ginger. That he should have stood on
+the roof, calmly watching the boat down the river...
+
+He nodded absently to Mr. Carmyle and walked off. He had no further
+remarks to make. The warmth had gone out of the sunshine and all
+interest had departed from his life. He felt dull, listless, at a loose
+end. Not even the thought that his cousin, a careful man with his money,
+had had to pay a day's hire for a car which he could not use brought him
+any balm. He loafed aimlessly about the streets. He wandered in the Park
+and out again. The Park bored him. The streets bored him. The whole
+city bored him. A city without Sally in it was a drab, futile city, and
+nothing that the sun could do to brighten it could make it otherwise.
+
+Night came at last, and with it a letter. It was the first even passably
+pleasant thing that had happened to Ginger in the whole of this dreary
+and unprofitable day: for the envelope bore the crest of the good ship
+Mauretania. He snatched it covetously from the letter-rack, and carried
+it upstairs to his room.
+
+Very few of the rooms at Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house struck any
+note of luxury. Mrs. Meecher was not one of your fashionable interior
+decorators. She considered that when she had added a Morris chair to the
+essentials which make up a bedroom, she had gone as far in the direction
+of pomp as any guest at seven-and-a-half per could expect her to go. As
+a rule, the severity of his surroundings afflicted Ginger with a touch
+of gloom when he went to bed; but to-night--such is the magic of a
+letter from the right person--he was uplifted and almost gay. There are
+moments when even illuminated texts over the wash-stand cannot wholly
+quell us.
+
+There was nothing of haste and much of ceremony in Ginger's method of
+approaching the perusal of his correspondence. He bore himself after the
+manner of a small boy in the presence of unexpected ice-cream, gloating
+for awhile before embarking on the treat, anxious to make it last out.
+His first move was to feel in the breast-pocket of his coat and produce
+the photograph of Sally which he had feloniously removed from her
+apartment. At this he looked long and earnestly before propping it
+up within easy reach against his basin, to be handy, if required, for
+purposes of reference. He then took off his coat, collar, and shoes,
+filled and lit a pipe, placed pouch and matches on the arm of the Morris
+chair, and drew that chair up so that he could sit with his feet on the
+bed. Having manoeuvred himself into a position of ease, he lit his pipe
+again and took up the letter. He looked at the crest, the handwriting of
+the address, and the postmark. He weighed it in his hand. It was a bulky
+letter.
+
+He took Sally's photograph from the wash-stand and scrutinized it once
+more. Then he lit his pipe again, and, finally, wriggling himself into
+the depths of the chair, opened the envelope.
+
+"Ginger, dear."
+
+Having read so far, Ginger found it necessary to take up the photograph
+and study it with an even greater intentness than before. He gazed at it
+for many minutes, then laid it down and lit his pipe again. Then he went
+on with the letter.
+
+"Ginger, dear--I'm afraid this address is going to give you rather a
+shock, and I'm feeling very guilty. I'm running away, and I haven't even
+stopped to say good-bye. I can't help it. I know it's weak and cowardly,
+but I simply can't help it. I stood it for a day or two, and then I
+saw that it was no good. (Thank you for leaving me alone and not coming
+round to see me. Nobody else but you would have done that. But then,
+nobody ever has been or ever could be so understanding as you.)"
+
+Ginger found himself compelled at this point to look at the photograph
+again.
+
+"There was too much in New York to remind me. That's the worst of being
+happy in a place. When things go wrong you find there are too many
+ghosts about. I just couldn't stand it. I tried, but I couldn't. I'm
+going away to get cured--if I can. Mr. Faucitt is over in England, and
+when I went down to Mrs. Meecher for my letters, I found one from him.
+His brother is dead, you know, and he has inherited, of all things,
+a fashionable dress-making place in Regent Street. His brother was
+Laurette et Cie. I suppose he will sell the business later on, but, just
+at present, the poor old dear is apparently quite bewildered and that
+doesn't seem to have occurred to him. He kept saying in his letter how
+much he wished I was with him, to help him, and I was tempted and ran.
+Anything to get away from the ghosts and have something to do. I don't
+suppose I shall feel much better in England, but, at least, every street
+corner won't have associations. Don't ever be happy anywhere, Ginger.
+It's too big a risk, much too big a risk.
+
+"There was a letter from Elsa Doland, too. Bubbling over with affection.
+We had always been tremendous friends. Of course, she never knew
+anything about my being engaged to Gerald. I lent Fillmore the money to
+buy that piece, which gave Elsa her first big chance, and so she's very
+grateful. She says, if ever she gets the opportunity of doing me a good
+turn... Aren't things muddled?
+
+"And there was a letter from Gerald. I was expecting one, of course,
+but... what would you have done, Ginger? Would you have read it? I sat
+with it in front of me for an hour, I should think, just looking at the
+envelope, and then... You see, what was the use? I could guess exactly
+the sort of thing that would be in it, and reading it would only have
+hurt a lot more. The thing was done, so why bother about explanations?
+What good are explanations, anyway? They don't help. They don't do
+anything... I burned it, Ginger. The last letter I shall ever get from
+him. I made a bonfire on the bathroom floor, and it smouldered and went
+brown, and then flared a little, and every now and then I lit another
+match and kept it burning, and at last it was just black ashes and a
+stain on the tiles. Just a mess!
+
+"Ginger, burn this letter, too. I'm pouring out all the poison to you,
+hoping it will make me feel better. You don't mind, do you? But I know
+you don't. If ever anybody had a real pal...
+
+"It's a dreadful thing, fascination, Ginger. It grips you and you are
+helpless. One can be so sensible and reasonable about other people's
+love affairs. When I was working at the dance place I told you about
+there was a girl who fell in love with the most awful little beast. He
+had a mean mouth and shiny black hair brushed straight back, and anybody
+would have seen what he was. But this girl wouldn't listen to a word.
+I talked to her by the hour. It makes me smile now when I think how
+sensible and level-headed I was. But she wouldn't listen. In some
+mysterious way this was the man she wanted, and, of course, everything
+happened that one knew would happen.
+
+"If one could manage one's own life as well as one can manage other
+people's! If all this wretched thing of mine had happened to some other
+girl, how beautifully I could have proved that it was the best thing
+that could have happened, and that a man who could behave as Gerald has
+done wasn't worth worrying about. I can just hear myself. But, you see,
+whatever he has done, Gerald is still Gerald and Sally is still Sally
+and, however much I argue, I can't get away from that. All I can do is
+to come howling to my redheaded pal, when I know just as well as he does
+that a girl of any spirit would be dignified and keep her troubles to
+herself and be much too proud to let anyone know that she was hurt.
+
+"Proud! That's the real trouble, Ginger. My pride has been battered and
+chopped up and broken into as many pieces as you broke Mr. Scrymgeour's
+stick! What pitiful creatures we are. Girls, I mean. At least, I suppose
+a good many girls are like me. If Gerald had died and I had lost him
+that way, I know quite well I shouldn't be feeling as I do now. I should
+have been broken-hearted, but it wouldn't have been the same. It's
+my pride that is hurt. I have always been a bossy, cocksure little
+creature, swaggering about the world like an English sparrow; and now
+I'm paying for it! Oh, Ginger, I'm paying for it! I wonder if running
+away is going to do me any good at all. Perhaps, if Mr. Faucitt has some
+real hard work for me to do...
+
+"Of course, I know exactly how all this has come about. Elsa's pretty
+and attractive. But the point is that she is a success, and as a success
+she appeals to Gerald's weakest side. He worships success. She is going
+to have a marvellous career, and she can help Gerald on in his. He can
+write plays for her to star in. What have I to offer against that? Yes,
+I know it's grovelling and contemptible of me to say that, Ginger. I
+ought to be above it, oughtn't I--talking as if I were competing for
+some prize... But I haven't any pride left. Oh, well!
+
+"There! I've poured it all out and I really do feel a little better
+just for the moment. It won't last, of course, but even a minute is
+something. Ginger, dear, I shan't see you for ever so long, even if we
+ever do meet again, but you'll try to remember that I'm thinking of
+you a whole lot, won't you? I feel responsible for you. You're my baby.
+You've got started now and you've only to stick to it. Please, please,
+please don't 'make a hash of it'! Good-bye. I never did find that
+photograph of me that we were looking for that afternoon in the
+apartment, or I would send it to you. Then you could have kept it on
+your mantelpiece, and whenever you felt inclined to make a hash of
+anything I would have caught your eye sternly and you would have pulled
+up.
+
+"Good-bye, Ginger. I shall have to stop now. The mail is just closing.
+
+"Always your pal, wherever I am.---SALLY."
+
+Ginger laid the letter down, and a little sound escaped him that was
+half a sigh, half an oath. He was wondering whether even now some
+desirable end might not be achieved by going to Chicago and breaking
+Gerald Foster's neck. Abandoning this scheme as impracticable, and
+not being able to think of anything else to do he re-lit his pipe and
+started to read the letter again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. SOME LETTERS FOR GINGER
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie,
+
+Regent Street,
+
+London, W.,
+
+England.
+
+
+
+January 21st.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I'm feeling better. As it's three months since I last
+wrote to you, no doubt you will say to yourself that I would be a poor,
+weak-minded creature if I wasn't. I suppose one ought to be able to get
+over anything in three months. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I haven't quite
+succeeded in doing that, but at least I have managed to get my troubles
+stowed away in the cellar, and I'm not dragging them out and looking at
+them all the time. That's something, isn't it?
+
+I ought to give you all my impressions of London, I suppose; but I've
+grown so used to the place that I don't think I have any now. I seem to
+have been here years and years.
+
+You will see by the address that Mr. Faucitt has not yet sold his
+inheritance. He expects to do so very soon, he tells me--there is a
+rich-looking man with whiskers and a keen eye whom he is always lunching
+with, and I think big deals are in progress. Poor dear! he is crazy to
+get away into the country and settle down and grow ducks and things.
+London has disappointed him. It is not the place it used to be. Until
+quite lately, when he grew resigned, he used to wander about in a
+disconsolate sort of way, trying to locate the landmarks of his youth.
+(He has not been in England for nearly thirty years!) The trouble is, it
+seems, that about once in every thirty years a sort of craze for change
+comes over London, and they paint a shop-front red instead of blue, and
+that upsets the returned exile dreadfully. Mr. Faucitt feels like Rip
+Van Winkle. His first shock was when he found that the Empire was a
+theatre now instead of a music-hall. Then he was told that another
+music-hall, the Tivoli, had been pulled down altogether. And when on top
+of that he went to look at the baker's shop in Rupert Street, over which
+he had lodgings in the eighties, and discovered that it had been turned
+into a dressmaker's, he grew very melancholy, and only cheered up a
+little when a lovely magenta fog came on and showed him that some things
+were still going along as in the good old days.
+
+I am kept quite busy at Laurette et Cie., thank goodness. (Not being a
+French scholar like you--do you remember Jules?--I thought at first that
+Cie was the name of the junior partner, and looked forward to meeting
+him. "Miss Nicholas, shake hands with Mr. Cie, one of your greatest
+admirers.") I hold down the female equivalent of your job at the
+Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.--that is to say, I'm a
+sort of right-hand woman. I hang around and sidle up to the customers
+when they come in, and say, "Chawming weather, moddom!" (which is
+usually a black lie) and pass them on to the staff, who do the actual
+work. I shouldn't mind going on like this for the next few years, but
+Mr. Faucitt is determined to sell. I don't know if you are like that,
+but every other Englishman I've ever met seems to have an ambition to
+own a house and lot in Loamshire or Hants or Salop or somewhere.
+Their one object in life is to make some money and "buy back the old
+place"--which was sold, of course, at the end of act one to pay the
+heir's gambling debts.
+
+Mr. Faucitt, when he was a small boy, used to live in a little village
+in Gloucestershire, near a place called Cirencester--at least, it isn't:
+it's called Cissister, which I bet you didn't know--and after forgetting
+about it for fifty years, he has suddenly been bitten by the desire to
+end his days there, surrounded by pigs and chickens. He took me down to
+see the place the other day. Oh, Ginger, this English country! Why any
+of you ever live in towns I can't think. Old, old grey stone houses with
+yellow haystacks and lovely squelchy muddy lanes and great fat trees and
+blue hills in the distance. The peace of it! If ever I sell my soul, I
+shall insist on the devil giving me at least forty years in some English
+country place in exchange.
+
+Perhaps you will think from all this that I am too much occupied to
+remember your existence. Just to show how interested I am in you, let
+me tell you that, when I was reading the paper a week ago, I happened to
+see the headline, "International Match." It didn't seem to mean anything
+at first, and then I suddenly recollected. This was the thing you had
+once been a snip for! So I went down to a place called Twickenham, where
+this football game was to be, to see the sort of thing you used to do
+before I took charge of you and made you a respectable right-hand man.
+There was an enormous crowd there, and I was nearly squeezed to death,
+but I bore it for your sake. I found out that the English team were the
+ones wearing white shirts, and that the ones in red were the Welsh. I
+said to the man next to me, after he had finished yelling himself
+black in the face, "Could you kindly inform me which is the English
+scrum-half?" And just at that moment the players came quite near where
+I was, and about a dozen assassins in red hurled themselves violently
+on top of a meek-looking little fellow who had just fallen on the ball.
+Ginger, you are well out of it! That was the scrum-half, and I gathered
+that that sort of thing was a mere commonplace in his existence.
+Stopping a rush, it is called, and he is expected to do it all the time.
+The idea of you ever going in for such brutal sports! You thank your
+stars that you are safe on your little stool in Fillmore's outer office,
+and that, if anybody jumps on top of you now, you can call a cop. Do you
+mean to say you really used to do these daredevil feats? You must have
+hidden depths in you which I have never suspected.
+
+As I was taking a ride down Piccadilly the other day on top of a bus, I
+saw somebody walking along who seemed familiar. It was Mr. Carmyle. So
+he's back in England again. He didn't see me, thank goodness. I don't
+want to meet anybody just at present who reminds me of New York.
+
+Thanks for telling me all the news, but please don't do it again. It
+makes me remember, and I don't want to. It's this way, Ginger. Let me
+write to you, because it really does relieve me, but don't answer my
+letters. Do you mind? I'm sure you'll understand.
+
+So Fillmore and Gladys Winch are married! From what I have seen of
+her, it's the best thing that has ever happened to Brother F. She is a
+splendid girl. I must write to him...
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie..
+
+London
+
+
+
+March 12th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I saw in a Sunday paper last week that "The Primrose Way"
+had been produced in New York, and was a great success. Well, I'm very
+glad. But I don't think the papers ought to print things like that. It's
+unsettling.
+
+Next day, I did one of those funny things you do when you're feeling
+blue and lonely and a long way away from everybody. I called at your
+club and asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk said
+in a fatherly way that you hadn't been in lately, and he rather fancied
+you were out of town, but would I take a seat while he inquired. He
+then summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the child skipped off
+chanting, "Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!" in a shrill treble. It gave me
+such an odd feeling to hear your name echoing in the distance. I felt so
+ashamed for giving them all that trouble; and when the boy came back
+I slipped twopence into his palm, which I suppose was against all the
+rules, though he seemed to like it.
+
+Mr. Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I am
+rather at a loose end...
+
+
+
+                                                 Monk's Crofton,
+                                                 (whatever that means)
+                                                 Much Middleford,
+                                                 Salop,
+                                                 (slang for Shropshire)
+                                                 England.
+
+
+
+April 18th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--What's the use? What is the use? I do all I can to get
+right away from New York, and New York comes after me and tracks me down
+in my hiding-place. A week or so ago, as I was walking down the Strand
+in an aimless sort of way, out there came right on top of me--who do you
+think? Fillmore, arm in arm with Mr. Carmyle! I couldn't dodge. In the
+first place, Mr. Carmyle had seen me; in the second place, it is a day's
+journey to dodge poor dear Fillmore now. I blushed for him. Ginger!
+Right there in the Strand I blushed for him. In my worst dreams I had
+never pictured him so enormous. Upon what meat doth this our Fillmore
+feed that he is grown so great? Poor Gladys! When she looks at him she
+must feel like a bigamist.
+
+Apparently Fillmore is still full of big schemes, for he talked airily
+about buying all sorts of English plays. He has come over, as I suppose
+you know, to arrange about putting on "The Primrose Way" over here. He
+is staying at the Savoy, and they took me off there to lunch, whooping
+joyfully as over a strayed lamb. It was the worst thing that could
+possibly have happened to me. Fillmore talked Broadway without a pause,
+till by the time he had worked his way past the French pastry and was
+lolling back, breathing a little stertorously, waiting for the coffee
+and liqueurs, he had got me so homesick that, if it hadn't been that I
+didn't want to make a public exhibition of myself, I should have broken
+down and howled. It was crazy of me ever to go near the Savoy. Of
+course, it's simply an annex to Broadway. There were Americans at every
+table as far as the eye could reach. I might just as well have been at
+the Astor.
+
+Well, if Fate insists in bringing New York to England for my special
+discomfiture, I suppose I have got to put up with it. I just let events
+take their course, and I have been drifting ever since. Two days ago
+I drifted here. Mr. Carmyle invited Fillmore--he seems to love
+Fillmore--and me to Monk's Crofton, and I hadn't even the shadow of an
+excuse for refusing. So I came, and I am now sitting writing to you in
+an enormous bedroom with an open fire and armchairs and every other sort
+of luxury. Fillmore is out golfing. He sails for New York on Saturday on
+the Mauretania. I am horrified to hear from him that, in addition to all
+his other big schemes, he is now promoting a fight for the light-weight
+championship in Jersey City, and guaranteeing enormous sums to both
+boxers. It's no good arguing with him. If you do, he simply quotes
+figures to show the fortunes other people have made out of these things.
+Besides, it's too late now, anyway. As far as I can make out, the fight
+is going to take place in another week or two. All the same, it makes my
+flesh creep.
+
+Well, it's no use worrying, I suppose. Let's change the subject. Do you
+know Monk's Crofton? Probably you don't, as I seem to remember hearing
+something said about it being a recent purchase. Mr. Carmyle bought it
+from some lord or other who had been losing money on the Stock Exchange.
+I hope you haven't seen it, anyway, because I want to describe it at
+great length. I want to pour out my soul about it. Ginger, what has
+England ever done to deserve such paradises? I thought, in my ignorance,
+that Mr. Faucitt's Cissister place was pretty good, but it doesn't even
+begin. It can't compete. Of course, his is just an ordinary country
+house, and this is a Seat. Monk's Crofton is the sort of place they used
+to write about in the English novels. You know. "The sunset was falling
+on the walls of G---- Castle, in B----shire, hard by the picturesque
+village of H----, and not a stone's throw from the hamlet of J----." I
+can imagine Tennyson's Maud living here. It is one of the stately homes
+of England; how beautiful they stand, and I'm crazy about it.
+
+You motor up from the station, and after you have gone about three
+miles, you turn in at a big iron gate with stone posts on each side with
+stone beasts on them. Close by the gate is the cutest little house with
+an old man inside it who pops out and touches his hat. This is only the
+lodge, really, but you think you have arrived; so you get all ready to
+jump out, and then the car goes rolling on for another fifty miles or so
+through beech woods full of rabbits and open meadows with deer in them.
+Finally, just as you think you are going on for ever, you whizz round a
+corner, and there's the house. You don't get a glimpse of it till then,
+because the trees are too thick.
+
+It's very large, and sort of low and square, with a kind of tower at
+one side and the most fascinating upper porch sort of thing with
+battlements. I suppose in the old days you used to stand on this and
+drop molten lead on visitors' heads. Wonderful lawns all round, and
+shrubberies and a lake that you can just see where the ground dips
+beyond the fields. Of course it's too early yet for them to be out, but
+to the left of the house there's a place where there will be about
+a million roses when June comes round, and all along the side of the
+rose-garden is a high wall of old red brick which shuts off the kitchen
+garden. I went exploring there this morning. It's an enormous place,
+with hot-houses and things, and there's the cunningest farm at one end
+with a stable yard full of puppies that just tear the heart out of you,
+they're so sweet. And a big, sleepy cat, which sits and blinks in
+the sun and lets the puppies run all over her. And there's a lovely
+stillness, and you can hear everything growing. And thrushes and
+blackbirds... Oh, Ginger, it's heavenly!
+
+But there's a catch. It's a case of "Where every prospect pleases and
+only man is vile." At least, not exactly vile, I suppose, but terribly
+stodgy. I can see now why you couldn't hit it off with the Family.
+Because I've seen 'em all! They're here! Yes, Uncle Donald and all of
+them. Is it a habit of your family to collect in gangs, or have I just
+happened to stumble into an accidental Old Home Week? When I came down
+to dinner the first evening, the drawing-room was full to bursting
+point--not simply because Fillmore was there, but because there were
+uncles and aunts all over the place. I felt like a small lion in a den
+of Daniels. I know exactly now what you mean about the Family. They look
+at you! Of course, it's all right for me, because I am snowy white clear
+through, but I can just imagine what it must have been like for you with
+your permanently guilty conscience. You must have had an awful time.
+
+By the way, it's going to be a delicate business getting this letter
+through to you--rather like carrying the despatches through the enemy's
+lines in a Civil War play. You're supposed to leave letters on the table
+in the hall, and someone collects them in the afternoon and takes them
+down to the village on a bicycle. But, if I do that some aunt or uncle
+is bound to see it, and I shall be an object of loathing, for it is no
+light matter, my lad, to be caught having correspondence with a human
+Jimpson weed like you. It would blast me socially. At least, so I gather
+from the way they behaved when your name came up at dinner last night.
+Somebody mentioned you, and the most awful roasting party broke loose.
+Uncle Donald acting as cheer-leader. I said feebly that I had met you
+and had found you part human, and there was an awful silence till they
+all started at the same time to show me where I was wrong, and how
+cruelly my girlish inexperience had deceived me. A young and innocent
+half-portion like me, it appears, is absolutely incapable of suspecting
+the true infamy of the dregs of society. You aren't fit to speak to the
+likes of me, being at the kindest estimate little more than a blot on
+the human race. I tell you this in case you may imagine you're popular
+with the Family. You're not.
+
+So I shall have to exercise a good deal of snaky craft in smuggling this
+letter through. I'll take it down to the village myself if I can sneak
+away. But it's going to be pretty difficult, because for some reason I
+seem to be a centre of attraction. Except when I take refuge in my
+room, hardly a moment passes without an aunt or an uncle popping out
+and having a cosy talk with me. It sometimes seems as though they were
+weighing me in the balance. Well, let 'em weigh!
+
+Time to dress for dinner now. Good-bye.
+
+Yours in the balance,
+
+Sally.
+
+P.S.--You were perfectly right about your Uncle Donald's moustache, but
+I don't agree with you that it is more his misfortune than his fault. I
+think he does it on purpose.
+
+
+
+                                                  (Just for the moment)
+                                                  Monk's Crofton,
+                                                  Much Middleford,
+                                                  Salop,
+                                                  England.
+
+
+
+April 20th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--Leaving here to-day. In disgrace. Hard, cold looks from
+the family. Strained silences. Uncle Donald far from chummy. You can
+guess what has happened. I might have seen it coming. I can see now that
+it was in the air all along.
+
+Fillmore knows nothing about it. He left just before it happened.
+I shall see him very soon, for I have decided to come back and stop
+running away from things any longer. It's cowardly to skulk about over
+here. Besides, I'm feeling so much better that I believe I can face
+the ghosts. Anyway, I'm going to try. See you almost as soon as you get
+this.
+
+I shall mail this in London, and I suppose it will come over by the same
+boat as me. It's hardly worth writing, really, of course, but I have
+sneaked up to my room to wait till the motor arrives to take me to the
+station, and it's something to do. I can hear muffled voices. The Family
+talking me over, probably. Saying they never really liked me all along.
+Oh, well!
+
+Yours moving in an orderly manner to the exit,
+
+Sally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally's emotions, as she sat in her apartment on the morning of her
+return to New York, resembled somewhat those of a swimmer who, after
+wavering on a raw morning at the brink of a chill pool, nerves himself
+to the plunge. She was aching, but she knew that she had done well. If
+she wanted happiness, she must fight for it, and for all these months
+she had been shirking the fight. She had done with wavering on the
+brink, and here she was, in mid-stream, ready for whatever might befall.
+It hurt, this coming to grips. She had expected it to hurt. But it was
+a pain that stimulated, not a dull melancholy that smothered. She felt
+alive and defiant.
+
+She had finished unpacking and tidying up. The next move was certainly
+to go and see Ginger. She had suddenly become aware that she wanted very
+badly to see Ginger. His stolid friendliness would be a support and a
+prop. She wished now that she had sent him a cable, so that he could
+have met her at the dock. It had been rather terrible at the dock.
+The echoing customs sheds had sapped her valour and she felt alone and
+forlorn.
+
+She looked at her watch, and was surprised to find how early it was. She
+could catch him at the office and make him take her out to lunch. She
+put on her hat and went out.
+
+The restless hand of change, always active in New York, had not spared
+the outer office of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. in
+the months of her absence. She was greeted on her arrival by an entirely
+new and original stripling in the place of the one with whom at her last
+visit she had established such cordial relations. Like his predecessor
+he was generously pimpled, but there the resemblance stopped. He was a
+grim boy, and his manner was stern and suspicious. He peered narrowly at
+Sally for a moment as if he had caught her in the act of purloining the
+office blotting-paper, then, with no little acerbity, desired her to
+state her business.
+
+"I want Mr. Kemp," said Sally.
+
+The office-boy scratched his cheek dourly with a ruler. No one would
+have guessed, so austere was his aspect, that a moment before her
+entrance he had been trying to balance it on his chin, juggling the
+while with a pair of paper-weights. For, impervious as he seemed
+to human weaknesses, it was this lad's ambition one day to go into
+vaudeville.
+
+"What name?" he said, coldly.
+
+"Nicholas," said Sally. "I am Mr. Nicholas' sister."
+
+On a previous occasion when she had made this announcement, disastrous
+results had ensued; but to-day it went well. It seemed to hit the
+office-boy like a bullet. He started convulsively, opened his mouth, and
+dropped the ruler. In the interval of stooping and recovering it he was
+able to pull himself together. He had not been curious about Sally's
+name. What he had wished was to have the name of the person for whom she
+was asking repeated. He now perceived that he had had a bit of luck.
+A wearying period of disappointment in the matter of keeping the
+paper-weights circulating while balancing the ruler, had left him
+peevish, and it had been his intention to work off his ill-humour on
+the young visitor. The discovery that it was the boss's sister who was
+taking up his time, suggested the advisability of a radical change of
+tactics. He had stooped with a frown: he returned to the perpendicular
+with a smile that was positively winning. It was like the sun suddenly
+bursting through a London fog.
+
+"Will you take a seat, lady?" he said, with polished courtesy even
+unbending so far as to reach out and dust one with the sleeve of his
+coat. He added that the morning was a fine one.
+
+"Thank you," said Sally. "Will you tell him I'm here."
+
+"Mr. Nicholas is out, miss," said the office-boy, with gentlemanly
+regret. "He's back in New York, but he's gone out."
+
+"I don't want Mr. Nicholas. I want Mr. Kemp."
+
+"Mr. Kemp?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Kemp."
+
+Sorrow at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy's
+face.
+
+"Don't know of anyone of that name around here," he said,
+apologetically.
+
+"But surely..." Sally broke off suddenly. A grim foreboding had come to
+her. "How long have you been here?" she asked.
+
+"All day, ma'am," said the office-boy, with the manner of a Casablanca.
+
+"I mean, how long have you been employed here?"
+
+"Just over a month, miss."
+
+"Hasn't Mr. Kemp been in the office all that time?"
+
+"Name's new to me, lady. Does he look like anything? I meanter say,
+what's he look like?"
+
+"He has very red hair."
+
+"Never seen him in here," said the office-boy. The truth shone coldly
+on Sally. She blamed herself for ever having gone away, and told herself
+that she might have known what would happen. Left to his own resources,
+the unhappy Ginger had once more made a hash of it. And this hash must
+have been a more notable and outstanding hash than any of his previous
+efforts, for, surely, Fillmore would not lightly have dismissed one who
+had come to him under her special protection.
+
+"Where is Mr. Nicholas?" she asked. It seemed to her that Fillmore was
+the only possible source of information. "Did you say he was out?"
+
+"Really out, miss," said the office-boy, with engaging candour. "He went
+off to White Plains in his automobile half-an-hour ago."
+
+"White Plains? What for?"
+
+The pimpled stripling had now given himself up wholeheartedly to
+social chit-chat. Usually he liked his time to himself and resented the
+intrusion of the outer world, for he who had chosen jugglery for
+his walk in life must neglect no opportunity of practising: but so
+favourable was the impression which Sally had made on his plastic mind
+that he was delighted to converse with her as long as she wished.
+
+"I guess what's happened is, he's gone up to take a look at Bugs
+Butler," he said.
+
+"Whose butler?" said Sally mystified.
+
+The office-boy smiled a tolerant smile. Though an admirer of the sex, he
+was aware that women were seldom hep to the really important things in
+life. He did not blame them. That was the way they were constructed, and
+one simply had to accept it.
+
+"Bugs Butler is training up at White Plains, miss."
+
+"Who is Bugs Butler?"
+
+Something of his former bleakness of aspect returned to the office-boy.
+Sally's question had opened up a subject on which he felt deeply.
+
+"Ah!" he replied, losing his air of respectful deference as he
+approached the topic. "Who is he! That's what they're all saying, all
+the wise guys. Who has Bugs Butler ever licked?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, for he had fixed her with a penetrating gaze
+and seemed to be pausing for a reply.
+
+"Nor nobody else," said the stripling vehemently. "A lot of stiffs out
+on the coast, that's all. Ginks nobody has ever heard of, except Cyclone
+Mullins, and it took that false alarm fifteen rounds to get a referee's
+decision over him. The boss would go and give him a chance against the
+champ, but I could have told him that the legitimate contender was
+K-leg Binns. K-leg put Cyclone Mullins out in the fifth. Well," said the
+office-boy in the overwrought tone of one chafing at human folly, "if
+anybody thinks Bugs Butler can last six rounds with Lew Lucas, I've two
+bucks right here in my vest pocket that says it ain't so."
+
+Sally began to see daylight.
+
+"Oh, Bugs--Mr. Butler is one of the boxers in this fight that my brother
+is interested in?"
+
+"That's right. He's going up against the lightweight champ. Lew Lucas is
+the lightweight champ. He's a bird!"
+
+"Yes?" said Sally. This youth had a way of looking at her with his head
+cocked on one side as though he expected her to say something.
+
+"Yes, sir!" said the stripling with emphasis. "Lew Lucas is a hot
+sketch. He used to live on the next street to me," he added as clinching
+evidence of his hero's prowess. "I've seen his old mother as close as
+I am to you. Say, I seen her a hundred times. Is any stiff of a Bugs
+Butler going to lick a fellow like that?"
+
+"It doesn't seem likely."
+
+"You spoke it!" said the lad crisply, striking unsuccessfully at a fly
+which had settled on the blotting-paper.
+
+There was a pause. Sally started to rise.
+
+"And there's another thing," said the office-boy, loath to close the
+subject. "Can Bugs Butler make a hundred and thirty-five ringside
+without being weak?"
+
+"It sounds awfully difficult."
+
+"They say he's clever." The expert laughed satirically. "Well,
+what's that going to get him? The poor fish can't punch a hole in a
+nut-sundae."
+
+"You don't seem to like Mr. Butler."
+
+"Oh, I've nothing against him," said the office-boy magnanimously. "I'm
+only saying he's no licence to be mixing it with Lew Lucas."
+
+Sally got up. Absorbing as this chat on current form was, more important
+matters claimed her attention.
+
+"How shall I find my brother when I get to White Plains?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, anybody'll show you the way to the training-camp. If you hurry,
+there's a train you can make now."
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+"You're welcome."
+
+He opened the door for her with an old-world politeness which disuse had
+rendered a little rusty: then, with an air of getting back to business
+after a pleasant but frivolous interlude, he took up the paper-weights
+once more and placed the ruler with nice care on his upturned chin.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Fillmore heaved a sigh of relief and began to sidle from the room. It
+was a large room, half barn, half gymnasium. Athletic appliances of
+various kinds hung on the walls and in the middle there was a wide
+roped-off space, around which a small crowd had distributed itself with
+an air of expectancy. This is a commercial age, and the days when a
+prominent pugilist's training activities used to be hidden from the
+public gaze are over. To-day, if the public can lay its hands on fifty
+cents, it may come and gaze its fill. This afternoon, plutocrats to the
+number of about forty had assembled, though not all of these, to the
+regret of Mr. Lester Burrowes, the manager of the eminent Bugs Butler,
+had parted with solid coin. Many of those present were newspaper
+representatives and on the free list--writers who would polish up Mr.
+Butler's somewhat crude prognostications as to what he proposed to do
+to Mr. Lew Lucas, and would report him as saying, "I am in really superb
+condition and feel little apprehension of the issue," and artists who
+would depict him in a state of semi-nudity with feet several sizes too
+large for any man.
+
+The reason for Fillmore's relief was that Mr. Burrowes, who was a great
+talker and had buttonholed him a quarter of an hour ago, had at last had
+his attention distracted elsewhere, and had gone off to investigate some
+matter that called for his personal handling, leaving Fillmore free to
+slide away to the hotel and get a bite to eat, which he sorely needed.
+The zeal which had brought him to the training-camp to inspect the final
+day of Mr. Butler's preparation--for the fight was to take place on the
+morrow--had been so great that he had omitted to lunch before leaving
+New York.
+
+So Fillmore made thankfully for the door. And it was at the door that he
+encountered Sally. He was looking over his shoulder at the moment, and
+was not aware of her presence till she spoke.
+
+"Hallo, Fillmore!"
+
+Sally had spoken softly, but a dynamite explosion could not have
+shattered her brother's composure with more completeness. In the leaping
+twist which brought him facing her, he rose a clear three inches from
+the floor. He had a confused sensation, as though his nervous system had
+been stirred up with a pole. He struggled for breath and moistened his
+lips with the tip of his tongue, staring at her continuously during the
+process.
+
+Great men, in their moments of weakness, are to be pitied rather than
+scorned. If ever a man had an excuse for leaping like a young ram,
+Fillmore had it. He had left Sally not much more than a week ago in
+England, in Shropshire, at Monk's Crofton. She had said nothing of any
+intention on her part of leaving the country, the county, or the house.
+Yet here she was, in Bugs Butler's training-camp at White Plains, in the
+State of New York, speaking softly in his ear without even going
+through the preliminary of tapping him on the shoulder to advertise her
+presence. No wonder that Fillmore was startled. And no wonder that, as
+he adjusted his faculties to the situation, there crept upon him a chill
+apprehension.
+
+For Fillmore had not been blind to the significance of that invitation
+to Monk's Crofton. Nowadays your wooer does not formally approach a
+girl's nearest relative and ask permission to pay his addresses; but,
+when he invites her and that nearest relative to his country home and
+collects all the rest of the family to meet her, the thing may be
+said to have advanced beyond the realms of mere speculation. Shrewdly
+Fillmore had deduced that Bruce Carmyle was in love with Sally, and
+mentally he had joined their hands and given them a brother's blessing.
+And now it was only too plain that disaster must have occurred. If the
+invitation could mean only one thing, so also could Sally's presence at
+White Plains mean only one thing.
+
+"Sally!" A croaking whisper was the best he could achieve. "What...
+what...?"
+
+"Did I startle you? I'm sorry."
+
+"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+Sally glanced past him at the ring and the crowd around it.
+
+"I decided I wanted to get back to America. Circumstances arose which
+made it pleasanter to leave Monk's Crofton."
+
+"Do you mean to say...?"
+
+"Yes. Don't let's talk about it."
+
+"Do you mean to say," persisted Fillmore, "that Carmyle proposed to you
+and you turned him down?"
+
+Sally flushed.
+
+"I don't think it's particularly nice to talk about that sort of thing,
+but--yes."
+
+A feeling of desolation overcame Fillmore. That conviction, which
+saddens us at all times, of the wilful bone-headedness of our fellows
+swept coldly upon him. Everything had been so perfect, the whole
+arrangement so ideal, that it had never occurred to him as a possibility
+that Sally might take it into her head to spoil it by declining to play
+the part allotted to her. The match was so obviously the best thing that
+could happen. It was not merely the suitor's impressive wealth that made
+him hold this opinion, though it would be idle to deny that the prospect
+of having a brother-in-lawful claim on the Carmyle bank-balance had cast
+a rosy glamour over the future as he had envisaged it. He honestly
+liked and respected the man. He appreciated his quiet and aristocratic
+reserve. A well-bred fellow, sensible withal, just the sort of husband
+a girl like Sally needed. And now she had ruined everything. With the
+capricious perversity which so characterizes her otherwise delightful
+sex, she had spilled the beans.
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Oh, Fill!" Sally had expected that realization of the facts would
+produce these symptoms in him, but now that they had presented
+themselves she was finding them rasping to the nerves. "I should have
+thought the reason was obvious."
+
+"You mean you don't like him?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not. I certainly don't like him enough to
+marry him."
+
+"He's a darned good fellow."
+
+"Is he? You say so. I don't know."
+
+The imperious desire for bodily sustenance began to compete successfully
+for Fillmore's notice with his spiritual anguish.
+
+"Let's go to the hotel and talk it over. We'll go to the hotel and I'll
+give you something to eat."
+
+"I don't want anything to eat, thanks."
+
+"You don't want anything to eat?" said Fillmore incredulously. He
+supposed in a vague sort of way that there were eccentric people of
+this sort, but it was hard to realize that he had met one of them. "I'm
+starving."
+
+"Well, run along then."
+
+"Yes, but I want to talk..."
+
+He was not the only person who wanted to talk. At the moment a small
+man of sporting exterior hurried up. He wore what his tailor's
+advertisements would have called a "nobbly" suit of checked tweed
+and--in defiance of popular prejudice--a brown bowler hat. Mr. Lester
+Burrowes, having dealt with the business which had interrupted their
+conversation a few minutes before, was anxious to resume his remarks
+on the subject of the supreme excellence in every respect of his young
+charge.
+
+"Say, Mr. Nicholas, you ain't going'? Bugs is just getting ready to
+spar."
+
+He glanced inquiringly at Sally.
+
+"My sister--Mr. Burrowes," said Fillmore faintly. "Mr. Burrowes is Bugs
+Butler's manager."
+
+"How do you do?" said Sally.
+
+"Pleased to meecher," said Mr. Burrowes. "Say..."
+
+"I was just going to the hotel to get something to eat," said Fillmore.
+
+Mr. Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with
+a glittering eye.
+
+"Yes, but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef'n. You've never seen
+this boy of mine, not when he was feeling right. Believe me, he's there!
+He's a wizard. He's a Hindoo! Say, he's been practising up a left shift
+that..."
+
+Fillmore's eye met Sally's wanly, and she pitied him. Presently she
+would require him to explain to her how he had dared to dismiss Ginger
+from his employment--and make that explanation a good one: but in the
+meantime she remembered that he was her brother and was suffering.
+
+"He's the cleverest lightweight," proceeded Mr. Burrowes fervently,
+"since Joe Gans. I'm telling you and I know! He..."
+
+"Can he make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without being weak?"
+asked Sally.
+
+The effect of this simple question on Mr. Burrowes was stupendous. He
+dropped away from Fillmore's coat-button like an exhausted bivalve,
+and his small mouth opened feebly. It was as if a child had suddenly
+propounded to an eminent mathematician some abstruse problem in the
+higher algebra. Females who took an interest in boxing had come into
+Mr. Burrowes' life before---in his younger days, when he was a famous
+featherweight, the first of his three wives had been accustomed to sit
+at the ringside during his contests and urge him in language of the
+severest technicality to knock opponents' blocks off--but somehow he had
+not supposed from her appearance and manner that Sally was one of the
+elect. He gaped at her, and the relieved Fillmore sidled off like a bird
+hopping from the compelling gaze of a snake. He was not quite sure that
+he was acting correctly in allowing his sister to roam at large among
+the somewhat Bohemian surroundings of a training-camp, but the instinct
+of self-preservation turned the scale. He had breakfasted early, and if
+he did not eat right speedily it seemed to him that dissolution would
+set in.
+
+"Whazzat?" said Mr. Burrowes feebly.
+
+"It took him fifteen rounds to get a referee's decision over Cyclone
+Mullins," said Sally severely, "and K-leg Binns..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes rallies.
+
+"You ain't got it right" he protested. "Say, you mustn't believe what
+you see in the papers. The referee was dead against us, and Cyclone was
+down once for all of half a minute and they wouldn't count him out. Gee!
+You got to kill a guy in some towns before they'll give you a decision.
+At that, they couldn't do nothing so raw as make it anything but a win
+for my boy, after him leading by a mile all the way. Have you ever seen
+Bugs, ma'am?"
+
+Sally had to admit that she had not had that privilege. Mr. Burrowes
+with growing excitement felt in his breast-pocket and produced a
+picture-postcard, which he thrust into her hand.
+
+"That's Bugs," he said. "Take a slant at that and then tell me if he
+don't look the goods."
+
+The photograph represented a young man in the irreducible minimum of
+clothing who crouched painfully, as though stricken with one of the
+acuter forms of gastritis.
+
+"I'll call him over and have him sign it for you," said Mr. Burrowes,
+before Sally had had time to grasp the fact that this work of art was a
+gift and no mere loan. "Here, Bugs--wantcher."
+
+A youth enveloped in a bath-robe, who had been talking to a group of
+admirers near the ring, turned, started languidly towards them, then,
+seeing Sally, quickened his pace. He was an admirer of the sex.
+
+Mr. Burrowes did the honours.
+
+"Bugs, this is Miss Nicholas, come to see you work out. I have been
+telling her she's going to have a treat." And to Sally. "Shake hands
+with Bugs Butler, ma'am, the coming lightweight champion of the world."
+
+Mr. Butler's photograph, Sally considered, had flattered him. He was, in
+the flesh, a singularly repellent young man. There was a mean and cruel
+curve to his lips and a cold arrogance in his eye; a something dangerous
+and sinister in the atmosphere he radiated. Moreover, she did not like
+the way he smirked at her.
+
+However, she exerted herself to be amiable.
+
+"I hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler," she said.
+
+The smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming
+champion's doubts, though they had never been serious. He was convinced
+now that he had made a hit. He always did, he reflected, with the girls.
+It was something about him. His chest swelled complacently beneath the
+bath-robe.
+
+"You betcher," he asserted briefly.
+
+Mr. Burrows looked at his watch.
+
+"Time you were starting, Bugs."
+
+The coming champion removed his gaze from Sally's face, into which he
+had been peering in a conquering manner, and cast a disparaging glance
+at the audience. It was far from being as large as he could have
+wished, and at least a third of it was composed of non-payers from the
+newspapers.
+
+"All right," he said, bored.
+
+His languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits
+revived somewhat. After all, small though the numbers of spectators
+might be, bright eyes would watch and admire him.
+
+"I'll go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter," he said. "Seen
+him anywheres? He's never around when he's wanted."
+
+"I'll fetch him," said Mr. Burrowes. "He's back there somewheres."
+
+"I'm going to show that guy up this afternoon," said Mr. Butler coldly.
+"He's been getting too fresh."
+
+The manager bustled off, and Bugs Butler, with a final smirk, left Sally
+and dived under the ropes. There was a stir of interest in the audience,
+though the newspaper men, blasé through familiarity, exhibited no
+emotion. Presently Mr. Burrowes reappeared, shepherding a young man
+whose face was hidden by the sweater which he was pulling over his head.
+He was a sturdily built young man. The sweater, moving from his body,
+revealed a good pair of shoulders.
+
+A last tug, and the sweater was off. Red hair flashed into view, tousled
+and disordered: and, as she saw it, Sally uttered an involuntary gasp
+of astonishment which caused many eyes to turn towards her. And the
+red-headed young man, who had been stooping to pick up his gloves,
+straightened himself with a jerk and stood staring at her blankly and
+incredulously, his face slowly crimsoning.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was the energetic Mr. Burrowes who broke the spell.
+
+"Come on, come on," he said impatiently. "Li'l speed there, Reddy."
+
+Ginger Kemp started like a sleep-walker awakened; then recovering
+himself, slowly began to pull on the gloves. Embarrassment was stamped
+on his agreeable features. His face matched his hair.
+
+Sally plucked at the little manager's elbow. He turned irritably, but
+beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source of the
+interruption.
+
+"Who--him?" he said in answer to Sally's whispered question. "He's just
+one of Bugs' sparring-partners."
+
+"But..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted
+her.
+
+"You'll excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch. We mustn't waste
+any time."
+
+Sally drew back. She felt like an infidel who intrudes upon the
+celebration of strange rites. This was Man's hour, and women must keep
+in the background. She had the sensation of being very small and yet
+very much in the way, like a puppy who has wandered into a church. The
+novelty and solemnity of the scene awed her.
+
+She looked at Ginger, who with averted gaze was fiddling with his
+clothes in the opposite corner of the ring. He was as removed from
+communication as if he had been in another world. She continued to
+stare, wide-eyed, and Ginger, shuffling his feet self-consciously,
+plucked at his gloves.
+
+Mr. Butler, meanwhile, having doffed his bath-robe, stretched himself,
+and with leisurely nonchalance put on a second pair of gloves, was
+filling in the time with a little shadow boxing. He moved rhythmically
+to and fro, now ducking his head, now striking out with his muffled
+hands, and a sickening realization of the man's animal power swept over
+Sally and turned her cold. Swathed in his bath-robe, Bugs Butler had
+conveyed an atmosphere of dangerousness: in the boxing-tights which
+showed up every rippling muscle, he was horrible and sinister, a machine
+built for destruction, a human panther.
+
+So he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at
+her side was not equally impressed. Obviously one of the Wise Guys
+of whom her friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly
+dissatisfied with the exhibition.
+
+"Shadow-boxing," he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion.
+"Yes, he can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain't got
+a partner to get in the way. But one good wallop, and then watch him."
+
+His friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a
+curt nod.
+
+"Ah!" he agreed.
+
+"Lew Lucas," said the first wise guy, "is just as shifty, and he can
+punch."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+"Just because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners," said
+the first wise guy disparagingly, "he thinks he's someone."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+As far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which
+was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring. For a comforting
+moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to be devoured by
+a lion. Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so formidable as he appeared.
+But her relief was not to be long-lived.
+
+"Of course he'll eat this red-headed gink," went on the first wise guy.
+"That's the thing he does best, killing his sparring-partners. But Lew
+Lucas..."
+
+Sally was not interested in Lew Lucas. That numbing fear had come back
+to her. Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had
+plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger. She tried to tear
+herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her there
+standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring forlornly
+into the ring.
+
+"Ready, Bugs?" asked Mr. Burrowes.
+
+The coming champion nodded carelessly.
+
+"Go to it," said Mr. Burrowes.
+
+Ginger ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Of all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained
+expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler. In other fields
+the amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with the man
+who has made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at boxing
+never: and the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he had laid
+this truth to heart. It would be too little to say that his bearing
+was confident: he comported himself with the care-free jauntiness of
+an infant about to demolish a Noah's Ark with a tack-hammer. Cyclone
+Mullinses might withstand him for fifteen rounds where they yielded to
+a K-leg Binns in the fifth, but, when it came to beating up a
+sparring-partner and an amateur at that, Bugs Butler knew his
+potentialities. He was there forty ways and he did not attempt to
+conceal it. Crouching as was his wont, he uncoiled himself like a
+striking rattlesnake and flicked Ginger lightly over his guard. Then
+he returned to his crouch and circled sinuously about the ring with the
+amiable intention of showing the crowd, payers and deadheads alike, what
+real footwork was. If there was one thing on which Bugs Butler prided
+himself, it was footwork.
+
+The adverb "lightly" is a relative term, and the blow which had just
+planted a dull patch on Ginger's cheekbone affected those present in
+different degrees. Ginger himself appeared stolidly callous. Sally
+shuddered to the core of her being and had to hold more tightly to the
+rope to support herself. The two wise guys mocked openly. To the
+wise guys, expert connoisseurs of swat, the thing had appeared richly
+farcical. They seemed to consider the blow, administered to a third
+party and not to themselves, hardly worth calling a blow at all. Two
+more, landing as quickly and neatly as the first, left them equally
+cold.
+
+"Call that punching?" said the first wise guy.
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+But Mr. Butler, if he heard this criticism--and it is probable that he
+did--for the wise ones had been restrained by no delicacy of feeling
+from raising their voices, was in no way discommoded by it. Bugs Butler
+knew what he was about. Bright eyes were watching him, and he meant to
+give them a treat. The girls like smooth work. Any roughneck could sail
+into a guy and knock the daylights out of him, but how few could be
+clever and flashy and scientific? Few, few, indeed, thought Mr. Butler
+as he slid in and led once more.
+
+Something solid smote Mr. Butler's nose, rocking him on to his heels and
+inducing an unpleasant smarting sensation about his eyes. He backed
+away and regarded Ginger with astonishment, almost with pain. Until this
+moment he had scarcely considered him as an active participant in the
+scene at all, and he felt strongly that this sort of thing was bad form.
+It was not being done by sparring-partners.
+
+A juster man might have reflected that he himself was to blame. He had
+undeniably been careless. In the very act of leading he had allowed his
+eyes to flicker sideways to see how Sally was taking this exhibition of
+science, and he had paid the penalty. Nevertheless, he was piqued. He
+shimmered about the ring, thinking it over. And the more he thought it
+over, the less did he approve of his young assistant's conduct. Hard
+thoughts towards Ginger began to float in his mind.
+
+Ginger, too, was thinking hard thoughts. He had not had an easy time
+since he had come to the training camp, but never till to-day had he
+experienced any resentment towards his employer. Until this afternoon
+Bugs Butler had pounded him honestly and without malice, and he had gone
+through it, as the other sparring-partners did, phlegmatically, taking
+it as part of the day's work. But this afternoon there had been a
+difference. Those careless flicks had been an insult, a deliberate
+offence. The man was trying to make a fool of him, playing to the
+gallery: and the thought of who was in that gallery inflamed Ginger past
+thought of consequences. No one, not even Mr. Butler, was more keenly
+alive than he to the fact that in a serious conflict with a man who
+to-morrow night might be light-weight champion of the world he stood no
+chance whatever: but he did not intend to be made an exhibition of in
+front of Sally without doing something to hold his end up. He proposed
+to go down with his flag flying, and in pursuance of this object he dug
+Mr. Butler heavily in the lower ribs with his right, causing that expert
+to clinch and the two wise guys to utter sharp barking sounds expressive
+of derision.
+
+"Say, what the hell d'ya think you're getting at?" demanded the
+aggrieved pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger's ear as they fell into
+the embrace. "What's the idea, you jelly bean?"
+
+Ginger maintained a pink silence. His jaw was set, and the temper which
+Nature had bestowed upon him to go with his hair had reached white
+heat. He dodged a vicious right which whizzed up at his chin out of the
+breaking clinch, and rushed. A left hook shook him, but was too high
+to do more. There was rough work in the far corner, and suddenly with
+startling abruptness Bugs Butler, bothered by the ropes at his back and
+trying to side-step, ran into a swing and fell.
+
+"Time!" shouted the scandalized Mr. Burrowes, utterly aghast at
+this frightful misadventure. In the whole course of his professional
+experience he could recall no such devastating occurrence.
+
+The audience was no less startled. There was audible gasping. The
+newspaper men looked at each other with a wild surmise and conjured up
+pleasant pictures of their sporting editors receiving this sensational
+item of news later on over the telephone. The two wise guys, continuing
+to pursue Mr. Butler with their dislike, emitted loud and raucous
+laughs, and one of them, forming his hands into a megaphone, urged the
+fallen warrior to go away and get a rep. As for Sally, she was conscious
+of a sudden, fierce, cave-womanly rush of happiness which swept away
+completely the sickening qualms of the last few minutes. Her teeth
+were clenched and her eyes blazed with joyous excitement. She looked
+at Ginger yearningly, longing to forget a gentle upbringing and shout
+congratulation to him. She was proud of him. And mingled with the pride
+was a curious feeling that was almost fear. This was not the mild and
+amiable young man whom she was wont to mother through the difficulties
+of a world in which he was unfitted to struggle for himself. This was a
+new Ginger, a stranger to her.
+
+On the rare occasions on which he had been knocked down in the past,
+it had been Bugs Butler's canny practice to pause for a while and rest
+before rising and continuing the argument, but now he was up almost
+before he had touched the boards, and the satire of the second wise guy,
+who had begun to saw the air with his hand and count loudly, lost its
+point. It was only too plain that Mr. Butler's motto was that a man
+may be down, but he is never out. And, indeed, the knock-down had been
+largely a stumble. Bugs Butler's educated feet, which had carried him
+unscathed through so many contests, had for this single occasion managed
+to get themselves crossed just as Ginger's blow landed, and it was to
+his lack of balance rather than the force of the swing that his downfall
+had been due.
+
+"Time!" he snarled, casting a malevolent side-glance at his manager.
+"Like hell it's time!"
+
+And in a whirlwind of flying gloves he flung himself upon Ginger,
+driving him across the ring, while Mr. Burrowes, watch in hand, stared
+with dropping jaw. If Ginger had seemed a new Ginger to Sally, still
+more did this seem a new Bugs Butler to Mr. Burrowes, and the manager
+groaned in spirit. Coolness, skill and science--these had been the
+qualities in his protégé which had always so endeared him to Mr. Lester
+Burrowes and had so enriched their respective bank accounts: and now, on
+the eve of the most important fight in his life, before an audience of
+newspaper men, he had thrown them all aside and was making an exhibition
+of himself with a common sparring-partner.
+
+That was the bitter blow to Mr. Burrowes. Had this lapse into the
+unscientific primitive happened in a regular fight, he might have
+mourned and poured reproof into Bug's ear when he got him back in his
+corner at the end of the round; but he would not have experienced this
+feeling of helpless horror--the sort of horror an elder of the church
+might feel if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the
+fascination of jazz. It was the fact that Bugs Butler was lowering
+himself to extend his powers against a sparring-partner that shocked Mr.
+Burrowes. There is an etiquette in these things. A champion may batter
+his sparring-partners into insensibility if he pleases, but he must do
+it with nonchalance. He must not appear to be really trying.
+
+And nothing could be more manifest than that Bugs Butler was trying. His
+whole fighting soul was in his efforts to corner Ginger and destroy him.
+The battle was raging across the ring and down the ring, and up the ring
+and back again; yet always Ginger, like a storm-driven ship, contrived
+somehow to weather the tempest. Out of the flurry of swinging arms he
+emerged time after time bruised, bleeding, but fighting hard.
+
+For Bugs Butler's fury was defeating its object. Had he remained his
+cool and scientific self, he could have demolished Ginger and cut
+through his defence in a matter of seconds. But he had lapsed back into
+the methods of his unskilled novitiate. He swung and missed, swung and
+missed again, struck but found no vital spot. And now there was blood on
+his face, too. In some wild mêlée the sacred fount had been tapped, and
+his teeth gleamed through a crimson mist.
+
+The Wise Guys were beyond speech. They were leaning against one another,
+punching each other feebly in the back. One was crying.
+
+And then suddenly the end came, as swiftly and unexpectedly as the
+thing had begun. His wild swings had tired Bugs Butler, and with fatigue
+prudence returned to him. His feet began once more their subtle weaving
+in and out. Twice his left hand flickered home. A quick feint, a short,
+jolting stab, and Ginger's guard was down and he was swaying in the
+middle of the ring, his hands hanging and his knees a-quiver.
+
+Bugs Butler measured his distance, and Sally shut her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. MR. ABRAHAMS RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringing
+happiness to others. Bugs Butler's mood, accordingly, when some thirty
+hours after the painful episode recorded in the last chapter he awoke
+from a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to discover that Mr. Lew
+Lucas had knocked him out in the middle of the third round, should have
+been one of quiet contentment. His inability to block a short left-hook
+followed by a right to the point of the jaw had ameliorated quite a
+number of existences.
+
+Mr. Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased. So were Mr. Lucas's
+seconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him. And most of the crowd,
+who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted. Yet Bugs Butler
+did not rejoice. It is not too much to say that his peevish bearing
+struck a jarring note in the general gaiety. A heavy frown disfigured
+his face as he slouched from the ring.
+
+But the happiness which he had spread went on spreading. The two Wise
+Guys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received the
+result on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer
+by five hundred dollars. The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. caused remark in the Subway by whooping
+gleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for he, too, had
+been rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr. Butler's chin. And
+it was with fierce satisfaction that Sally, breakfasting in her little
+apartment, informed herself through the sporting page of the details of
+the contender's downfall. She was not a girl who disliked many people,
+but she had acquired a lively distaste for Bugs Butler.
+
+Lew Lucas seemed a man after her own heart. If he had been a personal
+friend of Ginger's he could not, considering the brief time at his
+disposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness. In round one he had
+done all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler's left eye: in round
+two he had continued the good work on that gentleman's body; and in
+round three he had knocked him out. Could anyone have done more? Sally
+thought not, and she drank Lew Lucas's health in a cup of coffee and
+hoped his old mother was proud of him.
+
+The telephone bell rang at her elbow. She unhooked the receiver.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+"Oh, hullo," said a voice.
+
+"Ginger!" cried Sally delightedly.
+
+"I say, I'm awfully glad you're back. I only got your letter this
+morning. Found it at the boarding-house. I happened to look in there
+and..."
+
+"Ginger," interrupted Sally, "your voice is music, but I want to see
+you. Where are you?"
+
+"I'm at a chemist's shop across the street. I was wondering if..."
+
+"Come here at once!"
+
+"I say, may I? I was just going to ask."
+
+"You miserable creature, why haven't you been round to see me before?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been going about much for the last
+day. You see..."
+
+"I know. Of course." Quick sympathy came into Sally's voice. She gave
+a sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the large picture of Lew
+Lucas which beamed up at her from the morning paper. "You poor thing!
+How are you?"
+
+"Oh, all right, thanks."
+
+"Well, hurry."
+
+There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.
+
+"I say."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I'm not much to look at, you know."
+
+"You never were. Stop talking and hurry over."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+Sally hung up the receiver firmly. She waited eagerly for some minutes,
+and then footsteps came along the passage. They stopped at her door and
+the bell rang. Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and recoiled in
+consternation.
+
+"Oh, Ginger!"
+
+He had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not much
+to look at. He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right eye,
+but the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull purple.
+A great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with some
+difficulty through swollen lips.
+
+"It's all right, you know," he assured her.
+
+"It isn't. It's awful! Oh, you poor darling!" She clenched her teeth
+viciously. "I wish he had killed him!"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him. Brute!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know, you know." Ginger's sense of fairness compelled him
+to defend his late employer against these harsh sentiments. "He isn't a
+bad sort of chap, really. Bugs Butler, I mean."
+
+"Do you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don't loathe the
+creature?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right. See his point of view and all that. Can't blame
+him, if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit in the
+circs. Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at him like
+that. Naturally he didn't think it much of a wheeze. It was my fault
+right along. Oughtn't to have done it, of course, but somehow, when he
+started making an ass of me and I knew you were looking on... well, it
+seemed a good idea to have a dash at doing something on my own. No right
+to, of course. A sparring-partner isn't supposed..."
+
+"Sit down," said Sally.
+
+Ginger sat down.
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "you're too good to live."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+"I believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chain
+you'd say there were faults on both sides or something. I'm just a cat,
+and I say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished miserably.
+I'd have gone and danced on his grave... But whatever made you go in for
+that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it seemed the only job that was going at the moment. I've always
+done a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and it looked
+to me rather an opening. Gave me something to get along with. You get
+paid quite fairly decently, you know, and it's rather a jolly life..."
+
+"Jolly? Being hammered about like that?"
+
+"Oh, you don't notice it much. I've always enjoyed scrapping rather.
+And, you see, when your brother gave me the push..."
+
+Sally uttered an exclamation.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing it is--I went all the way out to White
+Plains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and I
+didn't say a word about it. And I haven't seen or been able to get hold
+of him since."
+
+"No? Busy sort of cove, your brother."
+
+"Why did Fillmore let you go?"
+
+"Let me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up. A kind of
+misunderstanding."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+"Oh, it was nothing. Just a..."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment. He looked
+awkwardly about the room.
+
+"It's not worth talking about."
+
+"It is worth talking about. I've a right to know. It was I who sent you
+to Fillmore..."
+
+"Now that," said Ginger, "was jolly decent of you."
+
+"Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let
+you go without saying a word to me. What happened?"
+
+Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily.
+
+"Well, it was rather unfortunate. You see, his wife--I don't know if you
+know her?..."
+
+"Of course I know her."
+
+"Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean,"
+said Ginger acutely. "Though, as a matter of fact, you often find
+sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a
+fellow..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "it's no good your thinking you can get out of
+telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and
+relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a
+corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying..."
+
+Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme.
+
+"Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling
+about..."
+
+"Fooling about?"
+
+"Well, kind of chivvying each other."
+
+"Chivvying?"
+
+"At least I was."
+
+"You were what?"
+
+"Sort of chasing her a bit, you know."
+
+Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Ginger's embarrassment increased.
+
+"The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when
+I happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was there
+till she suddenly grabbed it..."
+
+"Grabbed what?"
+
+"The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it...
+collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back
+and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy
+her to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened
+to roll in. I suppose," said Ginger, putting two and two together, "he
+had really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for
+a minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he
+was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife.
+Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it," said Ginger, ever
+fair-minded. "Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but a bit later
+in the day he called me in and administered the push."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took
+from you?"
+
+"Oh, just something."
+
+Sally rapped the table imperiously.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said her goaded visitor, "It was a
+photograph."
+
+"Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?"
+
+"Well... you, to be absolutely accurate."
+
+"Me?" Sally stared. "But I've never given you a photograph of myself."
+
+Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple.
+
+"You didn't exactly give it to me," he mumbled. "When I say give, I
+mean..."
+
+"Good gracious!" Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally. "That photograph
+we were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen it all the
+time?"
+
+"Why, yes, I did sort of pinch it..."
+
+"You fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it." She
+gazed at him almost with respect. "I never knew you were so deep and
+snaky. I'm discovering all sorts of new things about you."
+
+There was a brief silence. Ginger, confession over, seemed a trifle
+happier.
+
+"I hope you're not frightfully sick about it?" he said at length. "It
+was lying about, you know, and I rather felt I must have it. Hadn't the
+cheek to ask you for it, so..."
+
+"Don't apologize," said Sally cordially. "Great compliment. So I have
+caused your downfall again, have I? I'm certainly your evil genius,
+Ginger. I'm beginning to feel like a regular rag and a bone and a hank
+of hair. First I egged you on to insult your family--oh, by the way, I
+want to thank you about that. Now that I've met your Uncle Donald I can
+see how public-spirited you were. I ruined your prospects there, and now
+my fatal beauty--cabinet size--has led to your destruction once more.
+It's certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that."
+
+"No, really, I say, you mustn't bother. I shall be all right."
+
+"It's my duty. Now what is there that you really can do? Burglary, of
+course, but it's not respectable. You've tried being a waiter and a
+prize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those seems to be just
+right. Can't you suggest anything?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"I shall wangle something, I expect."'
+
+"Yes, but what? It must be something good this time. I don't want to be
+walking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a street-cleaner. I
+don't want to send for an express-man and find you popping up. My
+idea would be to go to my bank to arrange an overdraft and be told the
+president could give me two minutes and crawl in humbly and find you
+prezzing away to beat the band in a big chair. Isn't there anything in
+the world that you can do that's solid and substantial and will keep you
+out of the poor-house in your old age? Think!"
+
+"Of course, if I had a bit of capital..."
+
+"Ah! The business man! And what," inquired Sally, "would you do, Mr.
+Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?"
+
+"Run a dog-thingummy," said Ginger promptly.
+
+"What's a dog-thingummy?"
+
+"Why, a thingamajig. For dogs, you know."
+
+Sally nodded.
+
+"Oh, a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand. You will put things so
+obscurely at first. Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving about?
+What on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?"
+
+"I mean a sort of place like fellows have. Breeding dogs, you know, and
+selling them and winning prizes and all that. There are lots of them
+about."
+
+"Oh, a kennels?"
+
+"Yes, a kennels."
+
+"What a weird mind you have, Ginger. You couldn't say kennels at first,
+could you? That wouldn't have made it difficult enough. I suppose, if
+anyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would say, 'Oh, at a
+thingamajig for mutton chops'... Ginger, my lad, there is something in
+this. I believe for the first time in our acquaintance you have spoken
+something very nearly resembling a mouthful. You're wonderful with dogs,
+aren't you?"
+
+"I'm dashed keen on them, and I've studied them a bit. As a matter of
+fact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn't much about dogs
+that I don't know."
+
+"Of course. I believe you're a sort of honorary dog yourself. I could
+tell it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville. You plunged into a
+howling mass of about a million hounds of all species and just whispered
+in their ears and they stopped at once. Why, the more one examines this,
+the better it looks. I do believe it's the one thing you couldn't help
+making a success of. It's very paying, isn't it?"
+
+"Works out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I've been
+told."
+
+"A hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore's
+for comfort. Let's say ninety-nine and be conservative. Ginger, you
+have hit it. Say no more. You shall be the Dog King, the biggest
+thingamajigger for dogs in the country. But how do you start?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into
+a cove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out. That was what
+made me think of it."
+
+"You must start to-day. Or early to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," said Ginger doubtfully. "Of course, there's the catch, you know."
+
+"What catch?"
+
+"The capital. You've got to have that. This fellow wouldn't sell out
+under five thousand dollars."
+
+"I'll lend you five thousand dollars."
+
+"No!" said Ginger.
+
+Sally looked at him with exasperation. "Ginger, I'd like to slap you,"
+she said. It was maddening, this intrusion of sentiment into business
+affairs. Why, simply because he was a man and she was a woman,
+should she be restrained from investing money in a sound commercial
+undertaking? If Columbus had taken up this bone-headed stand towards
+Queen Isabella, America would never have been discovered.
+
+"I can't take five thousand dollars off you," said Ginger firmly.
+
+"Who's talking of taking it off me, as you call it?" stormed Sally.
+"Can't you forget your burglarious career for a second? This isn't the
+same thing as going about stealing defenceless girls' photographs. This
+is business. I think you would make an enormous success of a dog-place,
+and you admit you're good, so why make frivolous objections? Why
+shouldn't I put money into a good thing? Don't you want me to get rich,
+or what is it?"
+
+Ginger was becoming confused. Argument had never been his strong point.
+
+"But it's such a lot of money."
+
+"To you, perhaps. Not to me. I'm a plutocrat. Five thousand dollars!
+What's five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds."
+
+Ginger pondered woodenly for a while. His was a literal mind, and he
+knew nothing of Sally's finances beyond the fact that when he had first
+met her she had come into a legacy of some kind. Moreover, he had been
+hugely impressed by Fillmore's magnificence. It seemed plain enough that
+the Nicholases were a wealthy family.
+
+"I don't like it, you know," he said.
+
+"You don't have to like it," said Sally. "You just do it."
+
+A consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.
+
+"You'd have to let me pay you interest."
+
+"Let you? My lad, you'll have to pay me interest. What do you think this
+is--a round game? It's a cold business deal."
+
+"Topping!" said Ginger relieved. "How about twenty-five per cent."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally quickly. "I want three."
+
+"No, that's all rot," protested Ginger. "I mean to say--three. I don't,"
+he went on, making a concession, "mind saying twenty."
+
+"If you insist, I'll make it five. Not more."
+
+"Well, ten, then?"
+
+"Five!"
+
+"Suppose," said Ginger insinuatingly, "I said seven?"
+
+"I never saw anyone like you for haggling," said Sally with disapproval.
+"Listen! Six. And that's my last word."
+
+"Six?"
+
+"Six."
+
+Ginger did sums in his head.
+
+"But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year. It isn't
+enough."
+
+"What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort of
+deal in my life. Six! Do you agree?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Then that's settled. Is this man you talk about in New York?"
+
+"No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south shore."
+
+"I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book."
+
+"Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him
+up. Don't waste a minute."
+
+Ginger paused at the door.
+
+"I say, you're absolutely sure about this?'''
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street
+which, while not one of the city's important arteries, was capable,
+nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to the
+observer: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to
+the window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a third
+reading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It was
+a beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.
+
+She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped
+at the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her
+brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver,
+and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a large
+shadow in the sunshine. Sally was on the point of calling to him, when
+his behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.
+
+From where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practising
+the steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would do
+next kept Sally watching in silence. First, he moved in a resolute sort
+of way towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled back.
+This movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep thought
+before making another dash for the door, which, like the others, came
+to an abrupt end as though he had run into some invisible obstacle. And,
+finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off down the street and was lost
+to view.
+
+Sally could make nothing of it. If Fillmore had taken the trouble to
+come in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned the
+idea at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mystery
+when the telephone-bell rang, and her brother's voice spoke huskily in
+her ear.
+
+"Sally?"
+
+"Hullo, Fill. What are you going to call it?"
+
+"What am I... Call what?"
+
+"The dance you were doing outside here just now. It's your own
+invention, isn't it?"
+
+"Did you see me?" said Fillmore, upset.
+
+"Of course I saw you. I was fascinated."
+
+"I--er--I was coming to have a talk with you. Sally..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+There was a pause--on Fillmore's part, if the timbre of at his voice
+correctly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort. Something was
+plainly vexing Fillmore's great mind.
+
+"Sally," he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I--that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to see
+you very shortly. Will you be in?"
+
+"I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again."
+
+"She is very well. A trifle--a little upset."
+
+"Upset? What about?"
+
+"She will tell you when she arrives. I have just been 'phoning to her.
+She is coming at once." There was another pause. "I'm afraid she has bad
+news."
+
+"What news?"
+
+There was silence at the other end of the wire.
+
+"What news?" repeated Sally, a little sharply. She hated mysteries.
+
+But Fillmore had rung off. Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully. She
+was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gained by
+worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and tried to
+divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bell brought
+her out, to find her sister-in-law.
+
+Marriage, even though it had brought with it the lofty position of
+partnership with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no
+noticeable alteration in the former Miss Winch. As Mrs. Fillmore she
+was the same square, friendly creature. She hugged Sally in a muscular
+manner and went on in the sitting-room.
+
+"Well, it's great seeing you again," she said. "I began to think you
+were never coming back. What was the big idea, springing over to England
+like that?"
+
+Sally had been expecting the question, and answered it with composure.
+
+"I wanted to help Mr. Faucitt."
+
+"Who's Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+"Hasn't Fillmore ever mentioned him? He was a dear old man at the
+boarding-house, and his brother died and left him a dressmaking
+establishment in London. He screamed to me to come and tell him what to
+do about it. He has sold it now and is quite happy in the country."
+
+"Well, the trip's done you good," said Mrs. Fillmore. "You're prettier
+than ever."
+
+There was a pause. Already, in these trivial opening exchanges, Sally
+had sensed a suggestion of unwonted gravity in her companion. She missed
+that careless whimsicality which had been the chief characteristic of
+Miss Gladys Winch and seemed to have been cast off by Mrs. Fillmore
+Nicholas. At their meeting, before she had spoken, Sally had not
+noticed this, but now it was apparent that something was weighing on her
+companion. Mrs. Fillmore's honest eyes were troubled.
+
+"What's the bad news?" asked Sally abruptly. She wanted to end the
+suspense. "Fillmore was telling me over the 'phone that you had some bad
+news for me."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore scratched at the carpet for a moment with the end of her
+parasol without replying. When she spoke it was not in answer to the
+question.
+
+"Sally, who's this man Carmyle over in England?"
+
+"Oh, did Fillmore tell you about him?"
+
+"He told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
+you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him down."
+
+Sally's momentary annoyance faded. She could hardly, she felt, have
+expected Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.
+
+"Yes," she said. "That's true."
+
+"You couldn't write and say you've changed your mind?"
+
+Sally's annoyance returned. All her life she had been intensely
+independent, resentful of interference with her private concerns.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had--but I haven't. Did Fillmore tell you to try
+to talk me round?"
+
+"Oh, I'm not trying to talk you round," said Mrs. Fillmore quickly.
+"Goodness knows, I'm the last person to try and jolly anyone into
+marrying anybody if they didn't feel like it. I've seen too many
+marriages go wrong to do that. Look at Elsa Doland."
+
+Sally's heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.
+
+"Elsa?" she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook.
+"Has--has her marriage gone wrong?"
+
+"Gone all to bits," said Mrs. Fillmore shortly. "You remember she
+married Gerald Foster, the man who wrote 'The Primrose Way'?"
+
+Sally with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.
+
+"Yes, I remember," she said.
+
+"Well, it's all gone bloo-ey. I'll tell you about that in a minute.
+Coming back to this man in England, if you're in any doubt about it...
+I mean, you can't always tell right away whether you're fond of a man or
+not... When first I met Fillmore, I couldn't see him with a spy-glass,
+and now he's just the whole shooting-match... But that's not what I
+wanted to talk about. I was saying one doesn't always know one's
+own mind at first, and if this fellow really is a good fellow... and
+Fillmore tells me he's got all the money in the world..."
+
+Sally stopped her.
+
+"No, it's no good. I don't want to marry Mr. Carmyle."
+
+"That's that, then," said Mrs. Fillmore. "It's a pity, though."
+
+"Why are you taking it so much to heart?" said Sally with a nervous
+laugh.
+
+"Well..." Mrs. Fillmore paused. Sally's anxiety was growing. It must,
+she realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if it
+had the power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in her
+talk. "You see..." went on Mrs. Fillmore, and stopped again. "Gee! I'm
+hating this!" she murmured.
+
+"What is it? I don't understand."
+
+"You'll find it's all too darned clear by the time I'm through," said
+Mrs. Fillmore mournfully. "If I'm going to explain this thing, I
+guess I'd best start at the beginning. You remember that revue of
+Fillmore's--the one we both begged him not to put on. It flopped!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. It flopped on the road and died there. Never got to New York at
+all. Ike Schumann wouldn't let Fillmore have a theatre. The book wanted
+fixing and the numbers wanted fixing and the scenery wasn't right: and
+while they were tinkering with all that there was trouble about the
+cast and the Actors Equity closed the show. Best thing that could have
+happened, really, and I was glad at the time, because going on with
+it would only have meant wasting more money, and it had cost a fortune
+already. After that Fillmore put on a play of Gerald Foster's and that
+was a frost, too. It ran a week at the Booth. I hear the new piece he's
+got in rehearsal now is no good either. It's called 'The Wild Rose,' or
+something. But Fillmore's got nothing to do with that."
+
+"But..." Sally tried to speak, but Mrs. Fillmore went on.
+
+"Don't talk just yet, or I shall never get this thing straight. Well,
+you know Fillmore, poor darling. Anyone else would have pulled in his
+horns and gone slow for a spell, but he's one of those fellows whose
+horse is always going to win the next race. The big killing is always
+just round the corner with him. Funny how you can see what a chump a man
+is and yet love him to death... I remember saying something like that to
+you before... He thought he could get it all back by staging this fight
+of his that came off in Jersey City last night. And if everything had
+gone right he might have got afloat again. But it seems as if he can't
+touch anything without it turning to mud. On the very day before the
+fight was to come off, the poor mutt who was going against the champion
+goes and lets a sparring-partner of his own knock him down and fool
+around with him. With all the newspaper men there too! You probably
+saw about it in the papers. It made a great story for them. Well, that
+killed the whole thing. The public had never been any too sure that this
+fellow Bugs Butler had a chance of putting up a scrap with the champion
+that would be worth paying to see; and, when they read that he couldn't
+even stop his sparring-partners slamming him all around the place they
+simply decided to stay away. Poor old Fill! It was a finisher for
+him. The house wasn't a quarter full, and after he'd paid these two
+pluguglies their guarantees, which they insisted on having before they'd
+so much as go into the ring, he was just about cleaned out. So there you
+are!"
+
+Sally had listened with dismay to this catalogue of misfortunes.
+
+"Oh, poor Fill!" she cried. "How dreadful!"
+
+"Pretty tough."
+
+"But 'The Primrose Way' is a big success, isn't it?" said Sally, anxious
+to discover something of brightness in the situation.
+
+"It was." Mrs. Fillmore flushed again. "This is the part I hate having
+to tell you."
+
+"It was? Do you mean it isn't still? I thought Elsa had made such a
+tremendous hit. I read about it when I was over in London. It was even
+in one of the English papers."
+
+"Yes, she made a hit all right," said Mrs. Fillmore drily. "She made
+such a hit that all the other managements in New York were after her
+right away, and Fillmore had hardly sailed when she handed in her notice
+and signed up with Goble and Cohn for a new piece they are starring her
+in."
+
+"Ah, she couldn't!" cried Sally.
+
+"My dear, she did! She's out on the road with it now. I had to break the
+news to poor old Fillmore at the dock when he landed. It was rather a
+blow. I must say it wasn't what I would call playing the game. I know
+there isn't supposed to be any sentiment in business, but after all we
+had given Elsa her big chance. But Fillmore wouldn't put her name up
+over the theatre in electrics, and Goble and Cohn made it a clause in
+her contract that they would, so nothing else mattered. People are like
+that."
+
+"But Elsa... She used not to be like that."
+
+"They all get that way. They must grab success if it's to be grabbed.
+I suppose you can't blame them. You might just as well expect a cat to
+keep off catnip. Still, she might have waited to the end of the New York
+run." Mrs. Fillmore put out her hand and touched Sally's. "Well, I've
+got it out now," she said, "and, believe me, it was one rotten job. You
+don't know how sorry I am. Sally. I wouldn't have had it happen for a
+million dollars. Nor would Fillmore. I'm not sure that I blame him for
+getting cold feet and backing out of telling you himself. He just hadn't
+the nerve to come and confess that he had fooled away your money. He was
+hoping all along that this fight would pan out big and that he'd be
+able to pay you back what you had loaned him, but things didn't happen
+right."
+
+Sally was silent. She was thinking how strange it was that this room in
+which she had hoped to be so happy had been from the first moment of her
+occupancy a storm centre of bad news and miserable disillusionment. In
+this first shock of the tidings, it was the disillusionment that hurt
+most. She had always been so fond of Elsa, and Elsa had always seemed
+so fond of her. She remembered that letter of Elsa's with all its
+protestations of gratitude... It wasn't straight. It was horrible.
+Callous, selfish, altogether horrible...
+
+"It's..." She choked, as a rush of indignation brought the tears to her
+eyes. "It's... beastly! I'm... I'm not thinking about my money. That's
+just bad luck. But Elsa..."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore shrugged her square shoulders.
+
+"Well, it's happening all the time in the show business," she said. "And
+in every other business, too, I guess, if one only knew enough about
+them to be able to say. Of course, it hits you hard because Elsa was a
+pal of yours, and you're thinking she might have considered you after
+all you've done for her. I can't say I'm much surprised myself." Mrs.
+Fillmore was talking rapidly, and dimly Sally understood that she was
+talking so that talk would carry her over this bad moment. Silence now
+would have been unendurable. "I was in the company with her, and it
+sometimes seems to me as if you can't get to know a person right through
+till you've been in the same company with them. Elsa's all right, but
+she's two people really, like these dual identity cases you read about.
+She's awfully fond of you. I know she is. She was always saying so,
+and it was quite genuine. If it didn't interfere with business there's
+nothing she wouldn't do for you. But when it's a case of her career you
+don't count. Nobody counts. Not even her husband. Now that's funny.
+If you think that sort of thing funny. Personally, it gives me the
+willies."
+
+"What's funny?" asked Sally, dully.
+
+"Well, you weren't there, so you didn't see it, but I was on the spot
+all the time, and I know as well as I know anything that he simply
+married her because he thought she could get him on in the game. He
+hardly paid any attention to her at all till she was such a riot in
+Chicago, and then he was all over her. And now he's got stung. She
+throws down his show and goes off to another fellow's. It's like
+marrying for money and finding the girl hasn't any. And she's got stung,
+too, in a way, because I'm pretty sure she married him mostly because
+she thought he was going to be the next big man in the play-writing
+business and could boost her up the ladder. And now it doesn't look as
+though he had another success in him. The result is they're at outs. I
+hear he's drinking. Somebody who'd seen him told me he had gone all to
+pieces. You haven't seen him, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I thought maybe you might have run into him. He lives right opposite."
+
+Sally clutched at the arm of her chair.
+
+"Lives right opposite? Gerald Foster? What do you mean?"
+
+"Across the passage there," said Mrs. Fillmore, jerking her thumb at the
+door. "Didn't you know? That's right, I suppose you didn't. They moved
+in after you had beaten it for England. Elsa wanted to be near you, and
+she was tickled to death when she found there was an apartment to be had
+right across from you. Now, that just proves what I was saying a while
+ago about Elsa. If she wasn't fond of you, would she go out of her way
+to camp next door? And yet, though she's so fond of you, she doesn't
+hesitate about wrecking your property by quitting the show when she sees
+a chance of doing herself a bit of good. It's funny, isn't it?"
+
+The telephone-bell, tinkling sharply, rescued Sally from the necessity
+of a reply. She forced herself across the room to answer it.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+Ginger's voice spoke jubilantly.
+
+"Hullo. Are you there? I say, it's all right, about that binge, you
+know."
+
+"Oh, yes?"
+
+"That dog fellow, you know," said Ginger, with a slight diminution of
+exuberance. His sensitive ear had seemed to detect a lack of animation
+in her voice. "I've just been talking to him over the 'phone, and it's
+all settled. If," he added, with a touch of doubt, "you still feel like
+going into it, I mean."
+
+There was an instant in which Sally hesitated, but it was only an
+instant.
+
+"Why, of course," she said, steadily. "Why should you think I had
+changed my mind?"
+
+"Well, I thought... that is to say, you seemed... oh, I don't know."
+
+"You imagine things. I was a little worried about something when you
+called me up, and my mind wasn't working properly. Of course, go ahead
+with it. Ginger. I'm delighted."
+
+"I say, I'm awfully sorry you're worried."
+
+"Oh. it's all right."
+
+"Something bad?"
+
+"Nothing that'll kill me. I'm young and strong."
+
+Ginger was silent for a moment.
+
+"I say, I don't want to butt in, but can I do anything?"
+
+"No, really, Ginger, I know you would do anything you could, but this
+is just something I must worry through by myself. When do you go down to
+this place?"
+
+"I was thinking of popping down this afternoon, just to take a look
+round."
+
+"Let me know what train you're making and I'll come and see you off."
+
+"That's ripping of you. Right ho. Well, so long."
+
+"So long," said Sally.
+
+Mrs. Fillmore, who had been sitting in that state of suspended animation
+which comes upon people who are present at a telephone conversation
+which has nothing to do with themselves, came to life as Sally replaced
+the receiver.
+
+"Sally," she said, "I think we ought to have a talk now about what
+you're going to do."
+
+Sally was not feeling equal to any discussion of the future. All she
+asked of the world at the moment was to be left alone.
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I shall manage. You ought to be worrying about
+Fillmore."
+
+"Fillmore's got me to look after him," said Gladys, with quiet
+determination. "You're the one that's on my mind. I lay awake all last
+night thinking about you. As far as I can make out from Fillmore, you've
+still a few thousand dollars left. Well, as it happens, I can put you on
+to a really good thing. I know a girl..."
+
+"I'm afraid," interrupted Sally, "all the rest of my money, what there
+is of it, is tied up."
+
+"You can't get hold of it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But listen," said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently. "This is a really good
+thing. This girl I know started an interior decorating business some
+time ago and is pulling in the money in handfuls. But she wants more
+capital, and she's willing to let go of a third of the business to
+anyone who'll put in a few thousand. She won't have any difficulty
+getting it, but I 'phoned her this morning to hold off till I'd heard
+from you. Honestly, Sally, it's the chance of a lifetime. It would put
+you right on easy street. Isn't there really any way you could get your
+money out of this other thing and take on this deal?"
+
+"There really isn't. I'm awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear, but it's
+impossible."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her
+parasol, "I don't know what you've gone into, but, unless they've given
+you a share in the Mint or something, you'll be losing by not making the
+switch. You're sure you can't do it?"
+
+"I really can't."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.
+
+"Well, you know best, of course. Gosh! What a muddle everything is.
+Sally," she said, suddenly stopping at the door, "you're not going to
+hate poor old Fillmore over this, are you?"
+
+"Why, of course not. The whole thing was just bad luck."
+
+"He's worried stiff about it."
+
+"Well, give him my love, and tell him not to be so silly."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore crossed the room and kissed Sally impulsively.
+
+"You're an angel," she said. "I wish there were more like you. But I
+guess they've lost the pattern. Well, I'll go back and tell Fillmore
+that. It'll relieve him."
+
+The door closed, and Sally sat down with her chin in her hands to think.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Isadore Abrahams, the founder and proprietor of that deservedly
+popular dancing resort poetically named "The Flower Garden," leaned back
+in his chair with a contented sigh and laid down the knife and fork
+with which he had been assailing a plateful of succulent goulash. He was
+dining, as was his admirable custom, in the bosom of his family at his
+residence at Far Rockaway. Across the table, his wife, Rebecca, beamed
+at him over her comfortable plinth of chins, and round the table his
+children, David, Jacob, Morris and Saide, would have beamed at him
+if they had not been too busy at the moment ingurgitating goulash.
+A genial, honest, domestic man was Mr. Abrahams, a credit to the
+community.
+
+"Mother," he said.
+
+"Pa?" said Mrs. Abrahams.
+
+"Knew there was something I'd meant to tell you," said Mr. Abrahams,
+absently chasing a piece of bread round his plate with a stout finger.
+"You remember that girl I told you about some time back--girl working at
+the Garden--girl called Nicholas, who came into a bit of money and threw
+up her job..."
+
+"I remember. You liked her. Jakie, dear, don't gobble."
+
+"Ain't gobbling," said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Everybody liked her," said Mr. Abrahams. "The nicest girl I ever hired,
+and I don't hire none but nice girls, because the Garden's a nice place,
+and I like to run it nice. I wouldn't give you a nickel for any of your
+tough joints where you get nothing but low-lifes and scare away all the
+real folks. Everybody liked Sally Nicholas. Always pleasant and always
+smiling, and never anything but the lady. It was a treat to have her
+around. Well, what do you think?"
+
+"Dead?" inquired Mrs. Abrahams, apprehensively. The story had sounded to
+her as though it were heading that way. "Wipe your mouth, Jakie dear."
+
+"No, not dead," said Mr. Abrahams, conscious for the first time that the
+remainder of his narrative might be considered by a critic something
+of an anti-climax and lacking in drama. "But she was in to see me this
+afternoon and wants her job back."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, rather tonelessly. An ardent supporter of the
+local motion-picture palace, she had hoped for a slightly more gingery
+denouement, something with a bit more punch.
+
+"Yes, but don't it show you?" continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly trying
+to work up the interest. "There's this girl, goes out of my place not
+more'n a year ago, with a good bank-roll in her pocket, and here she is,
+back again, all of it spent. Don't it show you what a tragedy life is,
+if you see what I mean, and how careful one ought to be about money?
+It's what I call a human document. Goodness knows how she's been and
+gone and spent it all. I'd never have thought she was the sort of girl
+to go gadding around. Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible."
+
+"What's gadding, Pop?" asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
+chain his interest.
+
+"Well, she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
+back again. There's class to that girl. She's the sort of girl I want
+in the place. Don't seem quite to have so much get-up in her as she used
+to... seems kind of quieted down... but she's got class, and I'm glad
+she's back. I hope she'll stay. But don't it show you?"
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before. It had not
+worked out such a bad story after all. In its essentials it was not
+unlike the film she had seen the previous evening--Gloria Gooch in "A
+Girl against the World."
+
+"Pop!" said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Yes, Jakie?"
+
+"When I'm grown up, I won't never lose no money. I'll put it in the bank
+and save it."
+
+The slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally's troubles
+left Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.
+
+"That's a good boy, Jakie," he said.
+
+He felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and
+bent forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND
+
+
+
+There is in certain men--and Bruce Carmyle was one of them--a quality of
+resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as
+effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and
+more practical kind. As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle resembled that durable
+type of pugilist who can only give of his best after he has received
+at least one substantial wallop on some tender spot. Although Sally had
+refused his offer of marriage quite definitely at Monk's Crofton, it had
+never occurred to him to consider the episode closed. All his life he
+had been accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he meant to get it
+now.
+
+He was quite sure that he wanted Sally. There had been moments when
+he had been conscious of certain doubts, but in the smart of temporary
+defeat these had vanished. That streak of Bohemianism in her which from
+time to time since their first meeting had jarred upon his orderly
+mind was forgotten; and all that Mr. Carmyle could remember was the
+brightness of her eyes, the jaunty lift of her chin, and the gallant
+trimness of her. Her gay prettiness seemed to flick at him like a whip
+in the darkness of wakeful nights, lashing him to pursuit. And quietly
+and methodically, like a respectable wolf settling on the trail of a Red
+Riding Hood, he prepared to pursue. Delicacy and imagination might have
+kept him back, but in these qualities he had never been strong. One
+cannot have everything.
+
+His preparations for departure, though he did his best to make them
+swiftly and secretly, did not escape the notice of the Family. In many
+English families there seems to exist a system of inter-communication
+and news-distribution like that of those savage tribes in Africa who
+pass the latest item of news and interest from point to point over
+miles of intervening jungle by some telepathic method never properly
+explained. On his last night in London, there entered to Bruce
+Carmyle at his apartment in South Audley Street, the Family's chosen
+representative, the man to whom the Family pointed with pride--Uncle
+Donald, in the flesh.
+
+There were two hundred and forty pounds of the flesh Uncle Donald was
+in, and the chair in which he deposited it creaked beneath its burden.
+Once, at Monk's Crofton, Sally had spoiled a whole morning for her
+brother Fillmore, by indicating Uncle Donald as the exact image of
+what he would be when he grew up. A superstition, cherished from early
+schooldays, that he had a weak heart had caused the Family's managing
+director to abstain from every form of exercise for nearly fifty years;
+and, as he combined with a distaste for exercise one of the three
+heartiest appetites in the south-western postal division of London,
+Uncle Donald, at sixty-two, was not a man one would willingly have
+lounging in one's armchairs. Bruce Carmyle's customary respectfulness
+was tinged with something approaching dislike as he looked at him.
+
+Uncle Donald's walrus moustache heaved gently upon his laboured breath,
+like seaweed on a ground-swell. There had been stairs to climb.
+
+"What's this? What's this?" he contrived to ejaculate at last. "You
+packing?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, shortly. For the first time in his life he was
+conscious of that sensation of furtive guilt which was habitual with his
+cousin Ginger when in the presence of this large, mackerel-eyed man.
+
+"You going away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where you going?"
+
+"America."
+
+"When you going?"
+
+"To-morrow morning."
+
+"Why you going?"
+
+This dialogue has been set down as though it had been as brisk and
+snappy as any cross-talk between vaudeville comedians, but in reality
+Uncle Donald's peculiar methods of conversation had stretched it over
+a period of nearly three minutes: for after each reply and before each
+question he had puffed and sighed and inhaled his moustache with
+such painful deliberation that his companion's nerves were finding it
+difficult to bear up under the strain.
+
+"You're going after that girl," said Uncle Donald, accusingly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle flushed darkly. And it is interesting to record that at
+this moment there flitted through his mind the thought that Ginger's
+behaviour at Bleke's Coffee House, on a certain notable occasion, had
+not been so utterly inexcusable as he had supposed. There was no doubt
+that the Family's Chosen One could be trying.
+
+"Will you have a whisky and soda, Uncle Donald?" he said, by way of
+changing the conversation.
+
+"Yes," said his relative, in pursuance of a vow he had made in the early
+eighties never to refuse an offer of this kind. "Gimme!"
+
+You would have thought that that would have put matters on a pleasanter
+footing. But no. Having lapped up the restorative, Uncle Donald returned
+to the attack quite un-softened.
+
+"Never thought you were a fool before," he said severely.
+
+Bruce Carmyle's proud spirit chafed. This sort of interview, which had
+become a commonplace with his cousin Ginger, was new to him. Hitherto,
+his actions had received neither criticism nor been subjected to it.
+
+"I'm not a fool."
+
+"You are a fool. A damn fool," continued Uncle Donald, specifying more
+exactly. "Don't like the girl. Never did. Not a nice girl. Didn't like
+her. Right from the first."
+
+"Need we discuss this?" said Bruce Carmyle, dropping, as he was apt to
+do, into the grand manner.
+
+The Head of the Family drank in a layer of moustache and blew it out
+again.
+
+"Need we discuss it?" he said with asperity. "We're going to discuss it!
+Whatch think I climbed all these blasted stairs for with my weak heart?
+Gimme another!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle gave him another.
+
+"'S a bad business," moaned Uncle Donald, having gone through the
+movements once more. "Shocking bad business. If your poor father were
+alive, whatch think he'd say to your tearing across the world after this
+girl? I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say... What kind of whisky's
+this?"
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"New to me. Not bad. Quite good. Sound. Mellow. Wherej get it?"
+
+"Bilby's in Oxford Street."
+
+"Must order some. Mellow. He'd say... well, God knows what he'd say.
+Whatch doing it for? Whatch doing it for? That's what I can't see. None
+of us can see. Puzzles your uncle George. Baffles your aunt Geraldine.
+Nobody can understand it. Girl's simply after your money. Anyone can see
+that."
+
+"Pardon me, Uncle Donald," said Mr. Carmyle, stiffly, "but that is
+surely rather absurd. If that were the case, why should she have refused
+me at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+"Drawing you on," said Uncle Donald, promptly. "Luring you on.
+Well-known trick. Girl in 1881, when I was at Oxford, tried to lure me
+on. If I hadn't had some sense and a weak heart... Whatch know of this
+girl? Whatch know of her? That's the point. Who is she? Wherej meet
+her?"
+
+"I met her at Roville, in France."
+
+"Travelling with her family?"
+
+"Travelling alone," said Bruce Carmyle, reluctantly.
+
+"Not even with that brother of hers? Bad!" said Uncle Donald. "Bad,
+bad!"
+
+"American girls are accustomed to more independence than English girls."
+
+"That young man," said Uncle Donald, pursuing a train of thought, "is
+going to be fat one of these days, if he doesn't look out. Travelling
+alone, was she? What did you do? Catch her eye on the pier?"
+
+"Really, Uncle Donald!"
+
+"Well, must have got to know her somehow."
+
+"I was introduced to her by Lancelot. She was a friend of his."
+
+"Lancelot!" exploded Uncle Donald, quivering all over like a smitten
+jelly at the loathed name. "Well, that shows you what sort of a girl she
+is. Any girl that would be a friend of... Unpack!"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Unpack! Mustn't go on with this foolery. Out of the question. Find some
+girl make you a good wife. Your aunt Mary's been meeting some people
+name of Bassington-Bassington, related Kent Bassington-Bassingtons...
+eldest daughter charming girl, just do for you."
+
+Outside the pages of the more old-fashioned type of fiction nobody ever
+really ground his teeth, but Bruce Carmyle came nearer to it at that
+moment than anyone had ever come before. He scowled blackly, and the
+last trace of suavity left him.
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind," he said briefly. "I sail to-morrow."
+
+Uncle Donald had had a previous experience of being defied by a nephew,
+but it had not accustomed him to the sensation. He was aware of an
+unpleasant feeling of impotence. Nothing is harder than to know what to
+do next when defied.
+
+"Eh?" he said.
+
+Mr. Carmyle having started to defy, evidently decided to make a good job
+of it.
+
+"I am over twenty-one," said he. "I am financially independent. I shall
+do as I please."
+
+"But, consider!" pleaded Uncle Donald, painfully conscious of the
+weakness of his words. "Reflect!"
+
+"I have reflected."
+
+"Your position in the county..."
+
+"I've thought of that."
+
+"You could marry anyone you pleased."
+
+"I'm going to."
+
+"You are determined to go running off to God-knows-where after this Miss
+I-can't-even-remember-her-dam-name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you considered," said Uncle Donald, portentously, "that you owe a
+duty to the Family."
+
+Bruce Carmyle's patience snapped and he sank like a stone to absolutely
+Gingerian depths of plain-spokenness.
+
+"Oh, damn the Family!" he cried.
+
+There was a painful silence, broken only by the relieved sigh of the
+armchair as Uncle Donald heaved himself out of it.
+
+"After that," said Uncle Donald, "I have nothing more to say."
+
+"Good!" said Mr. Carmyle rudely, lost to all shame.
+
+"'Cept this. If you come back married to that girl, I'll cut you in
+Piccadilly. By George, I will!"
+
+He moved to the door. Bruce Carmyle looked down his nose without
+speaking. A tense moment.
+
+"What," asked Uncle Donald, his fingers on the handle, "did you say it
+was called?"
+
+"What was what called?"
+
+"That whisky."
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"And wherj get it?"
+
+"Bilby's, in Oxford Street."
+
+"I'll make a note of it," said Uncle Donald.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+"And after all I've done for her," said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, his
+voice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combined
+effects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock,
+"after all I've done for her she throws me down."
+
+Sally did not reply. The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of a calibre
+that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having, moreover,
+too much difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell's erratic
+dance-steps to employ her attention elsewhere. They manoeuvred jerkily
+past the table where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower Garden's newest
+"hostess," sat watching the revels with a distant hauteur. Miss Hobson
+was looking her most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowful gulp
+escaped the stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.
+
+"If I told you," he moaned in Sally's ear, "what... was that your ankle?
+Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I had
+spent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws me
+down. And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn't
+spoken to me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone.
+And I was right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. But
+that," said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, "is a woman all over!"
+
+Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on
+hers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpreted
+the ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his last
+remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.
+
+"I don't mean you're like that," he said. "You're different. I could see
+that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's why I'm
+telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl and can
+understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this job as
+hostess here--you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred her in
+a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave her those.
+And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. I wish
+you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know, because
+you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. I don't know
+what to do. I come here every night." Sally was aware of this. She had
+seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee Schoenstein, the
+gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him on her. "I come here
+every night and dance past her table, but she won't look at me. What,"
+asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes, "would you do about
+it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, frankly.
+
+"Nor do I. I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,
+broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, if
+you can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?" pleaded Mr.
+Cracknell, urgently. "But I know you won't because you're a sensible...
+I'm giving her a little present. Having it brought here to-night. Little
+present. That ought to soften her, don't you think?"
+
+"A big one would do it better."
+
+Mr. Cracknell kicked her on the shin in a dismayed sort of way.
+
+"I never thought of that. Perhaps you're right. But it's too late now.
+Still, it might. Or wouldn't it? Which do you think?"
+
+"Yes," said Sally.
+
+"I thought as much," said Mr. Cracknell.
+
+The orchestra stopped with a thump and a bang, leaving Mr. Cracknell
+clapping feebly in the middle of the floor. Sally slipped back to her
+table. Her late partner, after an uncertain glance about him, as if
+he had mislaid something but could not remember what, zigzagged off in
+search of his own seat. The noise of many conversations, drowned by the
+music, broke out with renewed vigour. The hot, close air was full of
+voices; and Sally, pressing her hands on her closed eyes, was reminded
+once more that she had a headache.
+
+Nearly a month had passed since her return to Mr. Abrahams' employment.
+It had been a dull, leaden month, a monotonous succession of lifeless
+days during which life had become a bad dream. In some strange nightmare
+fashion, she seemed nowadays to be cut off from her kind. It was weeks
+since she had seen a familiar face. None of the companions of her
+old boarding-house days had crossed her path. Fillmore, no doubt from
+uneasiness of conscience, had not sought her out, and Ginger was working
+out his destiny on the south shore of Long Island.
+
+She lowered her hands and opened her eyes and looked at the room. It was
+crowded, as always. The Flower Garden was one of the many establishments
+of the same kind which had swum to popularity on the rising flood of
+New York's dancing craze; and doubtless because, as its proprietor had
+claimed, it was a nice place and run nice, it had continued, unlike many
+of its rivals, to enjoy unvarying prosperity. In its advertisement,
+it described itself as "a supper-club for after-theatre dining and
+dancing," adding that "large and spacious, and sumptuously appointed,"
+it was "one of the town's wonder-places, with its incomparable
+dance-floor, enchanting music, cuisine, and service de luxe." From which
+it may be gathered, even without his personal statements to that effect,
+that Isadore Abrahams thought well of the place.
+
+There had been a time when Sally had liked it, too. In her first period
+of employment there she had found it diverting, stimulating and full of
+entertainment. But in those days she had never had headaches or, what
+was worse, this dreadful listless depression which weighed her down and
+made her nightly work a burden.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+The orchestra, never silent for long at the Flower Garden, had started
+again, and Lee Schoenstein, the master of ceremonies, was presenting a
+new partner. She got up mechanically.
+
+"This is the first time I have been in this place," said the man, as
+they bumped over the crowded floor. He was big and clumsy, of course.
+To-night it seemed to Sally that the whole world was big and clumsy.
+"It's a swell place. I come from up-state myself. We got nothing like
+this where I come from." He cleared a space before him, using Sally as
+a battering-ram, and Sally, though she had not enjoyed her recent
+excursion with Mr. Cracknell, now began to look back to it almost with
+wistfulness. This man was undoubtedly the worst dancer in America.
+
+"Give me li'l old New York," said the man from up-state,
+unpatriotically. "It's good enough for me. I been to some swell shows
+since I got to town. You seen this year's 'Follies'?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You go," said the man earnestly. "You go! Take it from me, it's a swell
+show. You seen 'Myrtle takes a Turkish Bath'?"
+
+"I don't go to many theatres."
+
+"You go! It's a scream. I been to a show every night since I got here.
+Every night regular. Swell shows all of 'em, except this last one.
+I cert'nly picked a lemon to-night all right. I was taking a chance,
+y'see, because it was an opening. Thought it would be something to
+say, when I got home, that I'd been to a New York opening. Set me back
+two-seventy-five, including tax, and I wish I'd got it in my kick
+right now. 'The Wild Rose,' they called it," he said satirically, as
+if exposing a low subterfuge on the part of the management. "'The Wild
+Rose!' It sure made me wild all right. Two dollars seventy-five tossed
+away, just like that."
+
+Something stirred in Sally's memory. Why did that title seem so
+familiar? Then, with a shock, she remembered. It was Gerald's new play.
+For some time after her return to New York, she had been haunted by the
+fear lest, coming out of her apartment, she might meet him coming out of
+his; and then she had seen a paragraph in her morning paper which had
+relieved her of this apprehension. Gerald was out on the road with a new
+play, and "The Wild Rose," she was almost sure, was the name of it.
+
+"Is that Gerald Foster's play?" she asked quickly.
+
+"I don't know who wrote it," said her partner, "but let me tell you he's
+one lucky guy to get away alive. There's fellows breaking stones on the
+Ossining Road that's done a lot less to deserve a sentence. Wild Rose!
+I'll tell the world it made me go good and wild," said the man from
+up-state, an economical soul who disliked waste and was accustomed to
+spread out his humorous efforts so as to give them every chance. "Why,
+before the second act was over, the people were beating it for the
+exits, and if it hadn't been for someone shouting 'Women and children
+first' there'd have been a panic."
+
+Sally found herself back at her table without knowing clearly how she
+had got there.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+She started to rise, and was aware suddenly that this was not the voice
+of duty calling her once more through the gold teeth of Mr. Schoenstein.
+The man who had spoken her name had seated himself beside her, and was
+talking in precise, clipped accents, oddly familiar. The mist cleared
+from her eyes and she recognized Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+"I called at your place," Mr. Carmyle was saying, "and the hall porter
+told me that you were here, so I ventured to follow you. I hope you do
+not mind? May I smoke?"
+
+He lit a cigarette with something of an air. His fingers trembled as he
+raised the match, but he flattered himself that there was nothing
+else in his demeanour to indicate that he was violently excited.
+Bruce Carmyle's ideal was the strong man who can rise superior to his
+emotions. He was alive to the fact that this was an embarrassing moment,
+but he was determined not to show that he appreciated it. He cast a
+sideways glance at Sally, and thought that never, not even in the garden
+at Monk's Crofton on a certain momentous occasion, had he seen her
+looking prettier. Her face was flushed and her eyes aflame. The stout
+wraith of Uncle Donald, which had accompanied Mr. Carmyle on this
+expedition of his, faded into nothingness as he gazed.
+
+There was a pause. Mr. Carmyle, having lighted his cigarette, puffed
+vigorously.
+
+"When did you land?" asked Sally, feeling the need of saying something.
+Her mind was confused. She could not have said whether she was glad
+or sorry that he was there. Glad, she thought, on the whole. There
+was something in his dark, cool, stiff English aspect that gave her a
+curious feeling of relief. He was so unlike Mr. Cracknell and the man
+from up-state and so calmly remote from the feverish atmosphere in which
+she lived her nights that it was restful to look at him.
+
+"I landed to-night," said Bruce Carmyle, turning and faced her squarely.
+
+"To-night!"
+
+"We docked at ten."
+
+He turned away again. He had made his effect, and was content to leave
+her to think it over.
+
+Sally was silent. The significance of his words had not escaped her. She
+realized that his presence there was a challenge which she must answer.
+And yet it hardly stirred her. She had been fighting so long, and she
+felt utterly inert. She was like a swimmer who can battle no longer and
+prepares to yield to the numbness of exhaustion. The heat of the room
+pressed down on her like a smothering blanket. Her tired nerves cried
+out under the blare of music and the clatter of voices.
+
+"Shall we dance this?" he asked.
+
+The orchestra had started to play again, a sensuous, creamy melody which
+was making the most of its brief reign as Broadway's leading song-hit,
+overfamiliar to her from a hundred repetitions.
+
+"If you like."
+
+Efficiency was Bruce Carmyle's gospel. He was one of these men who
+do not attempt anything which they cannot accomplish to perfection.
+Dancing, he had decided early in his life, was a part of a gentleman's
+education, and he had seen to it that he was educated thoroughly. Sally,
+who, as they swept out on to the floor, had braced herself automatically
+for a repetition of the usual bumping struggle which dancing at the
+Flower Garden had come to mean for her, found herself in the arms of
+a masterful expert, a man who danced better than she did, and suddenly
+there came to her a feeling that was almost gratitude, a miraculous
+slackening of her taut nerves, a delicious peace. Soothed and contented,
+she yielded herself with eyes half closed to the rhythm of the melody,
+finding it now robbed in some mysterious manner of all its stale
+cheapness, and in that moment her whole attitude towards Bruce Carmyle
+underwent a complete change.
+
+She had never troubled to examine with any minuteness her feelings
+towards him: but one thing she had known clearly since their first
+meeting--that he was physically distasteful to her. For all his good
+looks, and in his rather sinister way he was a handsome man, she had
+shrunk from him. Now, spirited away by the magic of the dance, that
+repugnance had left her. It was as if some barrier had been broken down
+between them.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+She felt his arm tighten about her, the muscles quivering. She caught
+sight of his face. His dark eyes suddenly blazed into hers and she
+stumbled with an odd feeling of helplessness; realizing with a shock
+that brought her with a jerk out of the half-dream into which she had
+been lulled that this dance had not postponed the moment of decision,
+as she had looked to it to do. In a hot whisper, the words swept away
+on the flood of the music which had suddenly become raucous and blaring
+once more, he was repeating what he had said under the trees at Monk's
+Crofton on that far-off morning in the English springtime. Dizzily
+she knew that she was resenting the unfairness of the attack at such a
+moment, but her mind seemed numbed.
+
+The music stopped abruptly. Insistent clapping started it again, but
+Sally moved away to her table, and he followed her like a shadow.
+Neither spoke. Bruce Carmyle had said his say, and Sally was sitting
+staring before her, trying to think. She was tired, tired. Her eyes were
+burning. She tried to force herself to face the situation squarely. Was
+it worth struggling? Was anything in the world worth a struggle? She
+only knew that she was tired, desperately tired, tired to the very
+depths of her soul.
+
+The music stopped. There was more clapping, but this time the orchestra
+did not respond. Gradually the floor emptied. The shuffling of feet
+ceased. The Flower Garden was as quiet as it was ever able to be. Even
+the voices of the babblers seemed strangely hushed. Sally closed her
+eyes, and as she did so from somewhere up near the roof there came the
+song of a bird.
+
+Isadore Abrahams was a man of his word. He advertised a Flower Garden,
+and he had tried to give the public something as closely resembling
+a flower-garden as it was possible for an overcrowded, overheated,
+overnoisy Broadway dancing-resort to achieve. Paper roses festooned the
+walls; genuine tulips bloomed in tubs by every pillar; and from the
+roof hung cages with birds in them. One of these, stirred by the sudden
+cessation of the tumult below, had began to sing.
+
+Sally had often pitied these birds, and more than once had pleaded in
+vain with Abrahams for a remission of their sentence, but somehow at
+this moment it did not occur to her that this one was merely praying in
+its own language, as she often had prayed in her thoughts, to be taken
+out of this place. To her, sitting there wrestling with Fate, the song
+seemed cheerful. It soothed her. It healed her to listen to it. And
+suddenly before her eyes there rose a vision of Monk's Crofton, cool,
+green, and peaceful under the mild English sun, luring her as an oasis
+seen in the distance lures the desert traveller...
+
+She became aware that the master of Monk's Crofton had placed his hand
+on hers and was holding it in a tightening grip. She looked down and
+gave a little shiver. She had always disliked Bruce Carmyle's hands.
+They were strong and bony and black hair grew on the back of them. One
+of the earliest feelings regarding him had been that she would hate to
+have those hands touching her. But she did not move. Again that vision
+of the old garden had flickered across her mind... a haven where she
+could rest...
+
+He was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear. The room was hotter
+than it had ever been, noisier than it had ever been, fuller than it had
+ever been. The bird on the roof was singing again and now she understood
+what it said. "Take me out of this!" Did anything matter except that?
+What did it matter how one was taken, or where, or by whom, so that one
+was taken.
+
+Monk's Crofton was looking cool and green and peaceful...
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+3
+
+
+
+Bruce Carmyle, in the capacity of accepted suitor, found himself at
+something of a loss. He had a dissatisfied feeling. It was not the
+manner of Sally's acceptance that caused this. It would, of course, have
+pleased him better if she had shown more warmth, but he was prepared to
+wait for warmth. What did trouble him was the fact that his correct mind
+perceived now for the first time that he had chosen an unsuitable moment
+and place for his outburst of emotion. He belonged to the orthodox
+school of thought which looks on moonlight and solitude as the proper
+setting for a proposal of marriage; and the surroundings of the Flower
+Garden, for all its nice-ness and the nice manner in which it was
+conducted, jarred upon him profoundly.
+
+Music had begun again, but it was not the soft music such as a lover
+demands if he is to give of his best. It was a brassy, clashy rendering
+of a ribald one-step, enough to choke the eloquence of the most ardent.
+Couples were dipping and swaying and bumping into one another as far
+as the eye could reach; while just behind him two waiters had halted in
+order to thrash out one of those voluble arguments in which waiters
+love to indulge. To continue the scene at the proper emotional level
+was impossible, and Bruce Carmyle began his career as an engaged man by
+dropping into Smalltalk.
+
+"Deuce of a lot of noise," he said querulously.
+
+"Yes," agreed Sally.
+
+"Is it always like this?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Infernal racket!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The romantic side of Mr. Carmyle's nature could have cried aloud at the
+hideous unworthiness of these banalities. In the visions which he had
+had of himself as a successful wooer, it had always been in the moments
+immediately succeeding the all-important question and its whispered
+reply that he had come out particularly strong. He had been accustomed
+to picture himself bending with a proud tenderness over his partner in
+the scene and murmuring some notably good things to her bowed head. How
+could any man murmur in a pandemonium like this. From tenderness Bruce
+Carmyle descended with a sharp swoop to irritability.
+
+"Do you often come here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To dance."
+
+Mr. Carmyle chafed helplessly. The scene, which should be so romantic,
+had suddenly reminded him of the occasion when, at the age of twenty, he
+had attended his first ball and had sat in a corner behind a potted palm
+perspiring shyly and endeavouring to make conversation to a formidable
+nymph in pink. It was one of the few occasions in his life at which he
+had ever been at a complete disadvantage. He could still remember the
+clammy discomfort of his too high collar as it melted on him. Most
+certainly it was not a scene which he enjoyed recalling; and that
+he should be forced to recall it now, at what ought to have been the
+supreme moment of his life, annoyed him intensely. Almost angrily he
+endeavoured to jerk the conversation to a higher level.
+
+"Darling," he murmured, for by moving his chair two feet to the right
+and bending sideways he found that he was in a position to murmur, "you
+have made me so..."
+
+"Batti, batti! I presto ravioli hollandaise," cried one of the disputing
+waiters at his back--or to Bruce Carmyle's prejudiced hearing it sounded
+like that.
+
+"La Donna e mobile spaghetti napoli Tettrazina," rejoined the second
+waiter with spirit.
+
+"... you have made me so..."
+
+"Infanta Isabella lope de Vegas mulligatawny Toronto," said the first
+waiter, weak but coming back pluckily.
+
+"... so happy..."
+
+"Funiculi funicula Vincente y Blasco Ibanez vermicelli sul campo della
+gloria risotto!" said the second waiter clinchingly, and scored a
+technical knockout.
+
+Bruce Carmyle gave it up, and lit a moody cigarette. He was oppressed by
+that feeling which so many of us have felt in our time, that it was all
+wrong.
+
+The music stopped. The two leading citizens of Little Italy vanished and
+went their way, probably to start a vendetta. There followed comparative
+calm. But Bruce Carmyle's emotions, like sweet bells jangled, were out
+of tune, and he could not recapture the first fine careless rapture. He
+found nothing within him but small-talk.
+
+"What has become of your party?" he asked.
+
+"My party?"
+
+"The people you are with," said Mr. Carmyle. Even in the stress of his
+emotion this problem had been exercising him. In his correctly ordered
+world girls did not go to restaurants alone.
+
+"I'm not with anybody."
+
+"You came here by yourself?" exclaimed Bruce Carmyle, frankly aghast.
+And, as he spoke, the wraith of Uncle Donald, banished till now,
+returned as large as ever, puffing disapproval through a walrus
+moustache.
+
+"I am employed here," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle started violently.
+
+"Employed here?"
+
+"As a dancer, you know. I..."
+
+Sally broke off, her attention abruptly diverted to something which
+had just caught her eye at a table on the other side of the room.
+That something was a red-headed young man of sturdy build who had just
+appeared beside the chair in which Mr. Reginald Cracknell was sitting
+in huddled gloom. In one hand he carried a basket, and from this basket,
+rising above the din of conversation, there came a sudden sharp yapping.
+Mr. Cracknell roused himself from his stupor, took the basket, raised
+the lid. The yapping increased in volume.
+
+Mr. Cracknell rose, the basket in his arms. With uncertain steps and a
+look on his face like that of those who lead forlorn hopes he crossed
+the floor to where Miss Mabel Hobson sat, proud and aloof. The next
+moment that haughty lady, the centre of an admiring and curious
+crowd, was hugging to her bosom a protesting Pekingese puppy, and Mr.
+Cracknell, seizing his opportunity like a good general, had deposited
+himself in a chair at her side. The course of true love was running
+smooth again.
+
+The red-headed young man was gazing fixedly at Sally.
+
+"As a dancer!" ejaculated Mr. Carmyle. Of all those within sight of the
+moving drama which had just taken place, he alone had paid no attention
+to it. Replete as it was with human interest, sex-appeal, the punch, and
+all the other qualities which a drama should possess, it had failed to
+grip him. His thoughts had been elsewhere. The accusing figure of Uncle
+Donald refused to vanish from his mental eye. The stern voice of Uncle
+Donald seemed still to ring in his ear.
+
+A dancer! A professional dancer at a Broadway restaurant! Hideous doubts
+began to creep like snakes into Bruce Carmyle's mind. What, he asked
+himself, did he really know of this girl on whom he had bestowed the
+priceless boon of his society for life? How did he know what she was--he
+could not find the exact adjective to express his meaning, but he knew
+what he meant. Was she worthy of the boon? That was what it amounted
+to. All his life he had had a prim shrinking from the section of the
+feminine world which is connected with the light-life of large cities.
+Club acquaintances of his in London had from time to time married into
+the Gaiety Chorus, and Mr. Carmyle, though he had no objection to
+the Gaiety Chorus in its proper place--on the other side of the
+footlights--had always looked on these young men after as social
+outcasts. The fine dashing frenzy which had brought him all the way from
+South Audley Street to win Sally was ebbing fast.
+
+Sally, hearing him speak, had turned. And there was a candid honesty
+in her gaze which for a moment sent all those creeping doubts scuttling
+away into the darkness whence they had come. He had not made a fool of
+himself, he protested to the lowering phantom of Uncle Donald. Who, he
+demanded, could look at Sally and think for an instant that she was not
+all that was perfect and lovable? A warm revulsion of feeling swept over
+Bruce Carmyle like a returning tide.
+
+"You see, I lost my money and had to do something," said Sally.
+
+"I see, I see," murmured Mr. Carmyle; and if only Fate had left him
+alone who knows to what heights of tenderness he might not have soared?
+But at this moment Fate, being no respecter of persons, sent into his
+life the disturbing personality of George Washington Williams.
+
+George Washington Williams was the talented coloured gentleman who
+had been extracted from small-time vaudeville by Mr. Abrahams to do
+a nightly speciality at the Flower Garden. He was, in fact, a
+trap-drummer: and it was his amiable practice, after he had done a few
+minutes trap-drumming, to rise from his seat and make a circular tour of
+the tables on the edge of the dancing-floor, whimsically pretending
+to clip the locks of the male patrons with a pair of drumsticks held
+scissor-wise. And so it came about that, just as Mr. Carmyle was bending
+towards Sally in an access of manly sentiment, and was on the very verge
+of pouring out his soul in a series of well-phrased remarks, he was
+surprised and annoyed to find an Ethiopian to whom he had never been
+introduced leaning over him and taking quite unpardonable liberties with
+his back hair.
+
+One says that Mr. Carmyle was annoyed. The word is weak. The
+interruption coming at such a moment jarred every ganglion in his body.
+The clicking noise of the drumsticks maddened him. And the gleaming
+whiteness of Mr. Williams' friendly and benignant smile was the last
+straw. His dignity writhed beneath this abominable infliction. People
+at other tables were laughing. At him. A loathing for the Flower Garden
+flowed over Bruce Carmyle, and with it a feeling of suspicion and
+disapproval of everyone connected with the establishment. He sprang to
+his feet.
+
+"I think I will be going," he said.
+
+Sally did not reply. She was watching Ginger, who still stood beside the
+table recently vacated by Reginald Cracknell.
+
+"Good night," said Mr. Carmyle between his teeth.
+
+"Oh, are you going?" said Sally with a start. She felt embarrassed. Try
+as she would, she was unable to find words of any intimacy. She tried to
+realize that she had promised to marry this man, but never before had he
+seemed so much a stranger to her, so little a part of her life. It came
+to her with a sensation of the incredible that she had done this thing,
+taken this irrevocable step.
+
+The sudden sight of Ginger had shaken her. It was as though in the last
+half-hour she had forgotten him and only now realized what marriage with
+Bruce Carmyle would mean to their comradeship. From now on he was dead
+to her. If anything in this world was certain that was. Sally Nicholas
+was Ginger's pal, but Mrs. Carmyle, she realized, would never be allowed
+to see him again. A devastating feeling of loss smote her like a blow.
+
+"Yes, I've had enough of this place," Bruce Carmyle was saying.
+
+"Good night," said Sally. She hesitated. "When shall I see you?" she
+asked awkwardly.
+
+It occurred to Bruce Carmyle that he was not showing himself at his
+best. He had, he perceived, allowed his nerves to run away with him.
+
+"You don't mind if I go?" he said more amiably. "The fact is, I can't
+stand this place any longer. I'll tell you one thing, I'm going to take
+you out of here quick."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't leave at a moment's notice," said Sally, loyal to
+her obligations.
+
+"We'll talk over that to-morrow. I'll call for you in the morning and
+take you for a drive somewhere in a car. You want some fresh air after
+this." Mr. Carmyle looked about him in stiff disgust, and expressed
+his unalterable sentiments concerning the Flower Garden, that apple of
+Isadore Abrahams' eye, in a snort of loathing. "My God! What a place!"
+
+He walked quickly away and disappeared. And Ginger, beaming happily,
+swooped on Sally's table like a homing pigeon.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+"Good Lord, I say, what ho!" cried Ginger. "Fancy meeting you here. What
+a bit of luck!" He glanced over his shoulder warily. "Has that blighter
+pipped?"
+
+"Pipped?"
+
+"Popped," explained Ginger. "I mean to say, he isn't coming back or any
+rot like that, is he?"
+
+"Mr. Carmyle? No, he has gone."
+
+"Sound egg!" said Ginger with satisfaction. "For a moment, when I saw
+you yarning away together, I thought he might be with your party. What
+on earth is he doing over here at all, confound him? He's got all Europe
+to play about in, why should he come infesting New York? I say, it
+really is ripping, seeing you again. It seems years... Of course, one
+get's a certain amount of satisfaction writing letters, but it's not the
+same. Besides, I write such rotten letters. I say, this really is rather
+priceless. Can't I get you something? A cup of coffee, I mean, or an egg
+or something? By jove! this really is top-hole."
+
+His homely, honest face glowed with pleasure, and it seemed to Sally as
+though she had come out of a winter's night into a warm friendly room.
+Her mercurial spirits soared.
+
+"Oh, Ginger! If you knew what it's like seeing you!"
+
+"No, really? Do you mean, honestly, you're braced?"
+
+"I should say I am braced."
+
+"Well, isn't that fine! I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"Forgotten you!"
+
+With something of the effect of a revelation it suddenly struck Sally
+how far she had been from forgetting him, how large was the place he had
+occupied in her thoughts.
+
+"I've missed you dreadfully," she said, and felt the words inadequate as
+she uttered them.
+
+"What ho!" said Ginger, also internally condemning the poverty of speech
+as a vehicle for conveying thought.
+
+There was a brief silence. The first exhilaration of the reunion over,
+Sally deep down in her heart was aware of a troubled feeling as though
+the world were out of joint. She forced herself to ignore it, but it
+would not be ignored. It grew. Dimly she was beginning to realize what
+Ginger meant to her, and she fought to keep herself from realizing it.
+Strange things were happening to her to-night, strange emotions stirring
+her. Ginger seemed somehow different, as if she were really seeing him
+for the first time.
+
+"You're looking wonderfully well," she said trying to keep the
+conversation on a pedestrian level.
+
+"I am well," said Ginger. "Never felt fitter in my life. Been out in the
+open all day long... simple life and all that... working like blazes.
+I say, business is booming. Did you see me just now, handing over Percy
+the Pup to what's-his-name? Five hundred dollars on that one deal. Got
+the cheque in my pocket. But what an extraordinarily rummy thing that
+I should have come to this place to deliver the goods just when you
+happened to be here. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. I say, I
+hope the people you're with won't think I'm butting in. You'll have to
+explain that we're old pals and that you started me in business and all
+that sort of thing. Look here," he said lowering his voice, "I know
+how you hate being thanked, but I simply must say how terrifically
+decent..."
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+Lee Schoenstein was standing at the table, and by his side an expectant
+youth with a small moustache and pince-nez. Sally got up, and the next
+moment Ginger was alone, gaping perplexedly after her as she vanished
+and reappeared in the jogging throng on the dancing floor. It was the
+nearest thing Ginger had seen to a conjuring trick, and at that moment
+he was ill-attuned to conjuring tricks. He brooded, fuming, at what
+seemed to him the supremest exhibition of pure cheek, of monumental
+nerve, and of undiluted crust that had ever come within his notice. To
+come and charge into a private conversation like that and whisk her away
+without a word...
+
+"Who was that blighter?" he demanded with heat, when the music ceased
+and Sally limped back.
+
+"That was Mr. Schoenstein."
+
+"And who was the other?"
+
+"The one I danced with? I don't know."
+
+"You don't know?"
+
+Sally perceived that the conversation had arrived at an embarrassing
+point. There was nothing for it but candour.
+
+"Ginger," she said, "you remember my telling you when we first met that
+I used to dance in a Broadway place? This is the place. I'm working
+again."
+
+Complete unintelligence showed itself on Ginger's every feature.
+
+"I don't understand," he said--unnecessarily, for his face revealed the
+fact.
+
+"I've got my old job back."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, I had to do something." She went on rapidly. Already a light
+dimly resembling the light of understanding was beginning to appear in
+Ginger's eyes. "Fillmore went smash, you know--it wasn't his fault, poor
+dear. He had the worst kind of luck--and most of my money was tied up in
+his business, so you see..."
+
+She broke off confused by the look in his eyes, conscious of an absurd
+feeling of guilt. There was amazement in that look and a sort of
+incredulous horror.
+
+"Do you mean to say..." Ginger gulped and started again. "Do you mean
+to tell me that you let me have... all that money... for the
+dog-business... when you were broke? Do you mean to say..."
+
+Sally stole a glance at his crimson face and looked away again quickly.
+There was an electric silence.
+
+"Look here," exploded Ginger with sudden violence, "you've got to marry
+me. You've jolly well got to marry me! I don't mean that," he added
+quickly. "I mean to say I know you're going to marry whoever you
+please... but won't you marry me? Sally, for God's sake have a dash
+at it! I've been keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather
+rotten to bother you about it, but now....Oh, dammit, I wish I could put
+it into words. I always was rotten at talking. But... well, look here,
+what I mean is, I know I'm not much of a chap, but it seems to me you
+must care for me a bit to do a thing like that for a fellow... and...
+I've loved you like the dickens ever since I met you... I do wish you'd
+have a stab at it, Sally. At least I could look after you, you know,
+and all that... I mean to say, work like the deuce and try to give you a
+good time... I'm not such an ass as to think a girl like you could ever
+really... er... love a blighter like me, but..."
+
+Sally laid her hand on his.
+
+"Ginger, dear," she said, "I do love you. I ought to have known it all
+along, but I seem to be understanding myself to-night for the first
+time." She got up and bent over him for a swift moment, whispering in
+his ear, "I shall never love anyone but you, Ginger. Will you try
+to remember that." She was moving away, but he caught at her arm and
+stopped her.
+
+"Sally..."
+
+She pulled her arm away, her face working as she fought against the
+tears that would not keep back.
+
+"I've made a fool of myself," she said. "Ginger, your cousin... Mr.
+Carmyle... just now he asked me to marry him, and I said I would."
+
+She was gone, flitting among the tables like some wild creature running
+to its home: and Ginger, motionless, watched her go.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+The telephone-bell in Sally's little sitting-room was ringing jerkily
+as she let herself in at the front door. She guessed who it was at the
+other end of the wire, and the noise of the bell sounded to her like the
+voice of a friend in distress crying for help. Without stopping to
+close the door, she ran to the table and unhooked the receiver. Muffled,
+plaintive sounds were coming over the wire.
+
+"Hullo... Hullo... I say... Hullo..."
+
+"Hullo, Ginger," said Sally quietly.
+
+An ejaculation that was half a shout and half gurgle answered her.
+
+"Sally! Is that you?"
+
+"Yes, here I am, Ginger."
+
+"I've been trying to get you for ages."
+
+"I've only just come in. I walked home."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Hullo."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, I mean..." Ginger seemed to be finding his usual difficulty in
+expressing himself. "About that, you know. What you said."
+
+"Yes?" said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
+
+"You said..." Again Ginger's vocabulary failed him. "You said you loved
+me."
+
+"Yes," said Sally simply.
+
+Another odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of
+silence before Ginger found himself able to resume.
+
+"I... I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet. I mean, it's no
+good trying to say what I think over the 'phone, I'm sort of knocked
+out. I never dreamed... But, I say, what did you mean about Bruce?"
+
+"I told you, I told you." Sally's face was twisted and the receiver
+shook in her hand. "I've made a fool of myself. I never realized... And
+now it's too late."
+
+"Good God!" Ginger's voice rose in a sharp wail. "You can't mean you
+really... You don't seriously intend to marry the man?"
+
+"I must. I've promised."
+
+"But, good heavens..."
+
+"It's no good. I must."
+
+"But the man's a blighter!"
+
+"I can't break my word."
+
+"I never heard such rot," said Ginger vehemently. "Of course you can. A
+girl isn't expected..."
+
+"I can't, Ginger dear, I really can't."
+
+"But look here..."
+
+"It's really no good talking about it any more, really it isn't... Where
+are you staying to-night?"
+
+"Staying? Me? At the Plaza. But look here..."
+
+Sally found herself laughing weakly.
+
+"At the Plaza! Oh, Ginger, you really do want somebody to look after
+you. Squandering your pennies like that... Well, don't talk any more
+now. It's so late and I'm so tired. I'll come and see you to-morrow.
+Good night."
+
+She hung up the receiver quickly, to cut short a fresh outburst of
+protest. And as she turned away a voice spoke behind her.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+Gerald Foster was standing in the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. SALLY LAYS A GHOST
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The blood flowed slowly back into Sally's face, and her heart, which
+had leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice, resumed its
+normal beat. The suddenness of the shock over, she was surprised to
+find herself perfectly calm. Always when she had imagined this meeting,
+knowing that it would have to take place sooner or later, she had felt
+something akin to panic: but now that it had actually occurred it hardly
+seemed to stir her. The events of the night had left her incapable of
+any violent emotion.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!" said Gerald.
+
+He spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he
+stood swaying with one hand on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves,
+collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily. His face
+was white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a sodden
+disreputableness.
+
+Sally did not speak. Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, she
+seemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tired
+nerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness. She
+looked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if he
+had been a stranger.
+
+"Hullo!" said Gerald again.
+
+"What do you want?" said Sally.
+
+"Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd come in."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+The weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald's face vanished. A tear
+rolled down his cheek. His intoxication had reached the maudlin stage.
+
+"Sally... S-Sally... I'm very miserable." He slurred awkwardly over the
+difficult syllables. "Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd
+come in."
+
+Something flicked at the back of Sally's mind. She seemed to have
+been through all this before. Then she remembered. This was simply Mr.
+Reginald Cracknell over again.
+
+"I think you had better go to bed, Gerald," she said steadily. Nothing
+about him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him nor his
+shameless misery.
+
+"What's the use? Can't sleep. No good. Couldn't sleep. Sally, you don't
+know how worried I am. I see what a fool I've been."
+
+Sally made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about
+to develop into a belated expression of regret for his treatment of
+herself. She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizing
+with tears for having done his best to wreck her life. But it seemed
+that it was not this that was weighing upon his soul.
+
+"I was a fool ever to try writing plays," he went on. "Got a winner
+first time, but can't repeat. It's no good. Ought to have stuck to
+newspaper work. I'm good at that. Shall have to go back to it. Had
+another frost to-night. No good trying any more. Shall have to go back
+to the old grind, damn it."
+
+He wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.
+
+"Very miserable," he murmured.
+
+He came forward a step into the room, lurched, and retreated to the safe
+support of the door. For an instant Sally's artificial calm was shot
+through by a swift stab of contempt. It passed, and she was back again
+in her armour of indifference.
+
+"Go to bed, Gerald," she said. "You'll feel better in the morning."
+
+Perhaps some inkling of how he was going to feel in the morning worked
+through to Gerald's muddled intelligence, for he winced, and his manner
+took on a deeper melancholy.
+
+"May not be alive in the morning," he said solemnly. "Good mind to
+end it all. End it all!" he repeated with the beginning of a sweeping
+gesture which was cut off abruptly as he clutched at the friendly door.
+
+Sally was not in the mood for melodrama.
+
+"Oh, go to bed," she said impatiently. The strange frozen indifference
+which had gripped her was beginning to pass, leaving in its place a
+growing feeling of resentment--resentment against Gerald for degrading
+himself like this, against herself for ever having found glamour in the
+man. It humiliated her to remember how utterly she had once allowed his
+personality to master hers. And under the sting of this humiliation she
+felt hard and pitiless. Dimly she was aware that a curious change had
+come over her to-night. Normally, the sight of any living thing in
+distress was enough to stir her quick sympathy: but Gerald mourning
+over the prospect of having to go back to regular work made no appeal to
+her--a fact which the sufferer noted and commented upon.
+
+"You're very unsymp... unsympathetic," he complained.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally. She walked briskly to the door and gave it a
+push. Gerald, still clinging to his chosen support, moved out into the
+passage, attached to the handle, with the air of a man the foundations
+of whose world have suddenly lost their stability. He released the
+handle and moved uncertainly across the passage. Finding his own door
+open before him, he staggered over the threshold; and Sally, having
+watched him safely to his journey's end, went into her bedroom with the
+intention of terminating this disturbing night by going to sleep.
+
+Almost immediately she changed her mind. Sleep was out of the question.
+A fever of restlessness had come upon her. She put on a kimono, and
+went into the kitchen to ascertain whether her commissariat arrangements
+would permit of a glass of hot milk.
+
+She had just remembered that she had that morning presented the last
+of the milk to a sandy cat with a purposeful eye which had dropped in
+through the window to take breakfast with her, when her regrets for this
+thriftless hospitality were interrupted by a muffled crash.
+
+She listened intently. The sound had seemed to come from across the
+passage. She hurried to the door and opened it. As she did so, from
+behind the door of the apartment opposite there came a perfect fusillade
+of crashes, each seeming to her strained hearing louder and more
+appalling than the last.
+
+There is something about sudden, loud noises in the stillness of the
+night which shatters the most rigid detachment. A short while before,
+Gerald, toying with the idea of ending his sorrows by violence, had
+left Sally unmoved: but now her mind leapt back to what he had said,
+and apprehension succeeded indifference. There was no disputing the fact
+that Gerald was in an irresponsible mood, under the influence of
+which he was capable of doing almost anything. Sally, listening in the
+doorway, felt a momentary panic.
+
+A brief silence had succeeded the fusillade, but, as she stood there
+hesitating, the noise broke out again; and this time it was so loud and
+compelling that Sally hesitated no longer. She ran across the passage
+and beat on the door.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Whatever devastating happenings had been going on in his home, it was
+plain a moment later that Gerald had managed to survive them: for there
+came the sound of a dragging footstep, and the door opened. Gerald stood
+on the threshold, the weak smile back on his face.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!"
+
+At the sight of him, disreputable and obviously unscathed, Sally's
+brief alarm died away, leaving in its place the old feeling of impatient
+resentment. In addition to her other grievances against him, he had
+apparently frightened her unnecessarily.
+
+"Whatever was all that noise?" she demanded.
+
+"Noise?" said Gerald, considering the point open-mouthed.
+
+"Yes, noise," snapped Sally.
+
+"I've been cleaning house," said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of a
+man just conscious that he is not wholly himself.
+
+Sally pushed her way past him. The apartment in which she found herself
+was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa
+Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly
+feminine way. Amateur interior decoration had always been a hobby
+of hers. Even in the unpromising surroundings of her bedroom at
+Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house she had contrived to create a certain
+daintiness which Sally, who had no ability in that direction herself,
+had always rather envied. As a decorator Elsa's mind ran in the
+direction of small, fragile ornaments, and she was not afraid of
+over-furnishing. Pictures jostled one another on the walls: china of all
+description stood about on little tables: there was a profusion of lamps
+with shades of parti-coloured glass: and plates were ranged along a
+series of shelves.
+
+One says that the plates were ranged and the pictures jostled one
+another, but it would be more correct to put it they had jostled and
+had been ranged, for it was only by guess-work that Sally was able
+to reconstruct the scene as it must have appeared before Gerald had
+started, as he put it, to clean house. She had walked into the flat
+briskly enough, but she pulled up short as she crossed the threshold,
+appalled by the majestic ruin that met her gaze. A shell bursting in the
+little sitting-room could hardly have created more havoc.
+
+The psychology of a man of weak character under the influence of alcohol
+and disappointed ambition is not easy to plumb, for his moods follow one
+another with a rapidity which baffles the observer. Ten minutes before,
+Gerald Foster had been in the grip of a clammy self-pity, and it seemed
+from his aspect at the present moment that this phase had returned. But
+in the interval there had manifestly occurred a brief but adequate
+spasm of what would appear to have been an almost Berserk fury. What had
+caused it and why it should have expended itself so abruptly, Sally was
+not psychologist enough to explain; but that it had existed there was
+ocular evidence of the most convincing kind. A heavy niblick, flung
+petulantly--or remorsefully--into a corner, showed by what medium the
+destruction had been accomplished.
+
+Bleak chaos appeared on every side. The floor was littered with every
+imaginable shape and size of broken glass and china. Fragments of
+pictures, looking as if they had been chewed by some prehistoric animal,
+lay amid heaps of shattered statuettes and vases. As Sally moved slowly
+into the room after her involuntary pause, china crackled beneath her
+feet. She surveyed the stripped walls with a wondering eye, and turned
+to Gerald for an explanation.
+
+Gerald had subsided on to an occasional table, and was weeping softly
+again. It had come over him once more that he had been very, very badly
+treated.
+
+"Well!" said Sally with a gasp. "You've certainly made a good job of
+it!"
+
+There was a sharp crack as the occasional table, never designed by its
+maker to bear heavy weights, gave way in a splintering flurry of broken
+legs under the pressure of the master of the house: and Sally's mood
+underwent an abrupt change. There are few situations in life which do
+not hold equal potentialities for both tragedy and farce, and it was
+the ludicrous side of this drama that chanced to appeal to Sally at
+this moment. Her sense of humour was tickled. It was, if she could have
+analysed her feelings, at herself that she was mocking--at the feeble
+sentimental Sally who had once conceived the absurd idea of taking this
+preposterous man seriously. She felt light-hearted and light-headed, and
+she sank into a chair with a gurgling laugh.
+
+The shock of his fall appeared to have had the desirable effect of
+restoring Gerald to something approaching intelligence. He picked
+himself up from the remains of a set of water-colours, gazing at Sally
+with growing disapproval.
+
+"No sympathy," he said austerely.
+
+"I can't help it," cried Sally. "It's too funny."
+
+"Not funny," corrected Gerald, his brain beginning to cloud once more.
+
+"What did you do it for?"
+
+Gerald returned for a moment to that mood of honest indignation, which
+had so strengthened his arm when wielding the niblick. He bethought him
+once again of his grievance.
+
+"Wasn't going to stand for it any longer," he said heatedly. "A fellow's
+wife goes and lets him down... ruins his show by going off and playing
+in another show... why shouldn't I smash her things? Why should I stand
+for that sort of treatment? Why should I?"
+
+"Well, you haven't," said Sally, "so there's no need to discuss it. You
+seem to have acted in a thoroughly manly and independent way."
+
+"That's it. Manly independent." He waggled his finger impressively.
+"Don't care what she says," he continued. "Don't care if she never comes
+back. That woman..."
+
+Sally was not prepared to embark with him upon a discussion of the
+absent Elsa. Already the amusing aspect of the affair had begun to fade,
+and her hilarity was giving way to a tired distaste for the sordidness
+of the whole business. She had become aware that she could not
+endure the society of Gerald Foster much longer. She got up and spoke
+decidedly.
+
+"And now," she said, "I'm going to tidy up."
+
+Gerald had other views.
+
+"No," he said with sudden solemnity. "No! Nothing of the kind. Leave it
+for her to find. Leave it as it is."
+
+"Don't be silly. All this has got to be cleaned up. I'll do it. You go
+and sit in my apartment. I'll come and tell you when you can come back."
+
+"No!" said Gerald, wagging his head.
+
+Sally stamped her foot among the crackling ruins. Quite suddenly the
+sight of him had become intolerable.
+
+"Do as I tell you," she cried.
+
+Gerald wavered for a moment, but his brief militant mood was ebbing
+fast. After a faint protest he shuffled off, and Sally heard him go into
+her room. She breathed a deep breath of relief and turned to her task.
+
+A visit to the kitchen revealed a long-handled broom, and, armed with
+this, Sally was soon busy. She was an efficient little person, and
+presently out of chaos there began to emerge a certain order. Nothing
+short of complete re-decoration would ever make the place look habitable
+again, but at the end of half an hour she had cleared the floor, and
+the fragments of vases, plates, lamp-shades, pictures and glasses were
+stacked in tiny heaps against the walls. She returned the broom to the
+kitchen, and, going back into the sitting-room, flung open the window
+and stood looking out.
+
+With a sense of unreality she perceived that the night had gone. Over
+the quiet street below there brooded that strange, metallic light which
+ushers in the dawn of a fine day. A cold breeze whispered to and fro.
+Above the house-tops the sky was a faint, level blue.
+
+She left the window and started to cross the room. And suddenly there
+came over her a feeling of utter weakness. She stumbled to a chair,
+conscious only of being tired beyond the possibility of a further
+effort. Her eyes closed, and almost before her head had touched the
+cushions she was asleep.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Sally woke. Sunshine was streaming through the open window, and with
+it the myriad noises of a city awake and about its business. Footsteps
+clattered on the sidewalk, automobile horns were sounding, and she could
+hear the clank of street cars as they passed over the points. She could
+only guess at the hour, but it was evident that the morning was well
+advanced. She got up stiffly. Her head was aching.
+
+She went into the bathroom, bathed her face, and felt better. The dull
+oppression which comes of a bad night was leaving her. She leaned out
+of the window, revelling in the fresh air, then crossed the passage and
+entered her own apartment. Stertorous breathing greeted her, and she
+perceived that Gerald Foster had also passed the night in a chair. He
+was sprawling by the window with his legs stretched out and his head
+resting on one of the arms, an unlovely spectacle.
+
+Sally stood regarding him for a moment with a return of the distaste
+which she had felt on the previous night. And yet, mingled with the
+distaste, there was a certain elation. A black chapter of her life was
+closed for ever. Whatever the years to come might bring to her, they
+would be free from any wistful yearnings for the man who had once been
+woven so inextricably into the fabric of her life. She had thought that
+his personality had gripped her too strongly ever to be dislodged,
+but now she could look at him calmly and feel only a faint half-pity,
+half-contempt. The glamour had departed.
+
+She shook him gently, and he sat up with a start, blinking in the strong
+light. His mouth was still open. He stared at Sally foolishly, then
+scrambled awkwardly out of the chair.
+
+"Oh, my God!" said Gerald, pressing both his hands to his forehead and
+sitting down again. He licked his lips with a dry tongue and moaned.
+"Oh, I've got a headache!"
+
+Sally might have pointed out to him that he had certainly earned one,
+but she refrained.
+
+"You'd better go and have a wash," she suggested.
+
+"Yes," said Gerald, heaving himself up again.
+
+"Would you like some breakfast?"
+
+"Don't!" said Gerald faintly, and tottered off to the bathroom.
+
+Sally sat down in the chair he had vacated. She had never felt quite
+like this before in her life. Everything seemed dreamlike. The splashing
+of water in the bathroom came faintly to her, and she realized that she
+had been on the point of falling asleep again. She got up and opened the
+window, and once more the air acted as a restorative. She watched the
+activities of the street with a distant interest. They, too, seemed
+dreamlike and unreal. People were hurrying up and down on mysterious
+errands. An inscrutable cat picked its way daintily across the road. At
+the door of the apartment house an open car purred sleepily.
+
+She was roused by a ring at the bell. She went to the door and opened
+it, and found Bruce Carmyle standing on the threshold. He wore a light
+motor-coat, and he was plainly endeavouring to soften the severity of
+his saturnine face with a smile of beaming kindliness.
+
+"Well, here I am!" said Bruce Carmyle cheerily. "Are you ready?"
+
+With the coming of daylight a certain penitence had descended on Mr.
+Carmyle. Thinking things over while shaving and subsequently in his
+bath, he had come to the conclusion that his behaviour overnight had not
+been all that could have been desired. He had not actually been brutal,
+perhaps, but he had undoubtedly not been winning. There had been an
+abruptness in the manner of his leaving Sally at the Flower Garden which
+a perfect lover ought not to have shown. He had allowed his nerves
+to get the better of him, and now he desired to make amends. Hence a
+cheerfulness which he did not usually exhibit so early in the morning.
+
+Sally was staring at him blankly. She had completely forgotten that he
+had said that he would come and take her for a drive this morning. She
+searched in her mind for words, and found none. And, as Mr. Carmyle
+was debating within himself whether to kiss her now or wait for a more
+suitable moment, embarrassment came upon them both like a fog, and the
+genial smile faded from his face as if the motive-power behind it had
+suddenly failed.
+
+"I've--er--got the car outside, and..."
+
+At this point speech failed Mr. Carmyle, for, even as he began the
+sentence, the door that led to the bathroom opened and Gerald Foster
+came out. Mr. Carmyle gaped at Gerald: Gerald gaped at Mr. Carmyle.
+
+The application of cold water to the face and head is an excellent thing
+on the morning after an imprudent night, but as a tonic it only goes
+part of the way. In the case of Gerald Foster, which was an extremely
+serious and aggravated case, it had gone hardly any way at all. The
+person unknown who had been driving red-hot rivets into the base of
+Gerald Foster's skull ever since the moment of his awakening was still
+busily engaged on that task. He gazed at Mr. Carmyle wanly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, and stood rigid. His
+eyes, burning now with a grim light, flickered over Gerald's person
+and found nothing in it to entertain them. He saw a slouching figure
+in shirt-sleeves and the foundations of evening dress, a disgusting,
+degraded figure with pink eyes and a white face that needed a shave. And
+all the doubts that had ever come to vex Mr. Carmyle's mind since his
+first meeting with Sally became on the instant certainties. So Uncle
+Donald had been right after all! This was the sort of girl she was!
+
+At his elbow the stout phantom of Uncle Donald puffed with satisfaction.
+
+"I told you so!" it said.
+
+Sally had not moved. The situation was beyond her. Just as if this had
+really been the dream it seemed, she felt incapable of speech or action.
+
+"So..." said Mr. Carmyle, becoming articulate, and allowed an impressive
+aposiopesis to take the place of the rest of the speech. A cold fury
+had gripped him. He pointed at Gerald, began to speak, found that he was
+stuttering, and gulped back the words. In this supreme moment he was not
+going to have his dignity impaired by a stutter. He gulped and found a
+sentence which, while brief enough to insure against this disaster, was
+sufficiently long to express his meaning.
+
+"Get out!" he said.
+
+Gerald Foster had his dignity, too, and it seemed to him that the time
+had come to assert it. But he also had a most excruciating headache, and
+when he drew himself up haughtily to ask Mr. Carmyle what the devil he
+meant by it, a severe access of pain sent him huddling back immediately
+to a safer attitude. He clasped his forehead and groaned.
+
+"Get out!"
+
+For a moment Gerald hesitated. Then another sudden shooting spasm
+convinced him that no profit or pleasure was to be derived from a
+continuance of the argument, and he began to shamble slowly across to
+the door. Bruce Carmyle watched him go with twitching hands. There was
+a moment when the human man in him, somewhat atrophied from long disuse,
+stirred him almost to the point of assault; then dignity whispered more
+prudent counsel in his ear, and Gerald was past the danger-zone and out
+in the passage. Mr. Carmyle turned to face Sally, as King Arthur on
+a similar but less impressive occasion must have turned to deal with
+Guinevere.
+
+"So..." he said again.
+
+Sally was eyeing him steadily--considering the circumstances, Mr.
+Carmyle thought with not a little indignation, much too steadily.
+
+"This," he said ponderously, "is very amusing."
+
+He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.
+
+"I might have expected it," said Mr. Carmyle with a bitter laugh.
+
+Sally forced herself from the lethargy which was gripping her.
+
+"Would you like me to explain?" she said.
+
+"There can be no explanation," said Mr. Carmyle coldly.
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Good-bye," said Bruce Carmyle.
+
+"Good-bye," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle walked to the door. There he stopped for an instant and
+glanced back at her. Sally had walked to the window and was looking out.
+For one swift instant something about her trim little figure and the
+gleam of her hair where the sunlight shone on it seemed to catch at
+Bruce Carmyle's heart, and he wavered. But the next moment he was strong
+again, and the door had closed behind him with a resolute bang.
+
+Out in the street, climbing into his car, he looked up involuntarily
+to see if she was still there, but she had gone. As the car, gathering
+speed, hummed down the street. Sally was at the telephone listening to
+the sleepy voice of Ginger Kemp, which, as he became aware who it
+was that had woken him from his rest and what she had to say to him,
+magically lost its sleepiness and took on a note of riotous ecstasy.
+
+Five minutes later, Ginger was splashing in his bath, singing
+discordantly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. JOURNEY'S END
+
+
+
+Darkness was beginning to gather slowly and with almost an apologetic
+air, as if it regretted the painful duty of putting an end to the
+perfect summer day. Over to the west beyond the trees there still
+lingered a faint afterglow, and a new moon shone like a silver sickle
+above the big barn. Sally came out of the house and bowed gravely three
+times for luck. She stood on the gravel, outside the porch, drinking in
+the sweet evening scents, and found life good.
+
+The darkness, having shown a certain reluctance at the start, was now
+buckling down to make a quick and thorough job of it. The sky turned
+to a uniform dark blue, picked out with quiet stars. The cement of the
+state road which led to Patchogue, Babylon, and other important centres
+ceased to be a pale blur and became invisible. Lights appeared in the
+windows of the houses across the meadows. From the direction of the
+kennels there came a single sleepy bark, and the small white woolly dog
+which had scampered out at Sally's heels stopped short and uttered a
+challenging squeak.
+
+The evening was so still that Ginger's footsteps, as he pounded along
+the road on his way back from the village, whither he had gone to buy
+provisions, evening papers, and wool for the sweater which Sally was
+knitting, were audible long before he turned in at the gate. Sally could
+not see him, but she looked in the direction of the sound and once again
+felt that pleasant, cosy thrill of happiness which had come to her every
+evening for the last year.
+
+"Ginger," she called.
+
+"What ho!"
+
+The woolly dog, with another important squeak, scuttled down the drive
+to look into the matter, and was coldly greeted. Ginger, for all his
+love of dogs, had never been able to bring himself to regard Toto with
+affection. He had protested when Sally, a month before, finding Mrs.
+Meecher distraught on account of a dreadful lethargy which had seized
+her pet, had begged him to offer hospitality and country air to the
+invalid.
+
+"It's wonderful what you've done for Toto, angel," said Sally, as he
+came up frigidly eluding that curious animal's leaps of welcome. "He's a
+different dog."
+
+"Bit of luck for him," said Ginger.
+
+"In all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher's I never knew him move at
+anything more rapid than a stately walk. Now he runs about all the
+time."
+
+"The blighter had been overeating from birth," said Ginger. "That was
+all that was wrong with him. A little judicious dieting put him right.
+We'll be able," said Ginger brightening, "to ship him back next week."
+
+"I shall quite miss him."
+
+"I nearly missed him--this morning--with a shoe," said Ginger. "He was
+up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and I took steps."
+
+"My cave-man!" murmured Sally. "I always said you had a frightfully
+brutal streak in you. Ginger, what an evening!"
+
+"Good Lord!" said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of the
+open kitchen door.
+
+"Now what?"
+
+He stopped and eyed her intently.
+
+"Do you know you're looking prettier than you were when I started down
+to the village!"
+
+Sally gave his arm a little hug.
+
+"Beloved!" she said. "Did you get the chops?"
+
+Ginger froze in his tracks, horrified.
+
+"Oh, my aunt! I clean forgot them!"
+
+"Oh, Ginger, you are an old chump. Well, you'll have to go in for a
+little judicious dieting, like Toto."
+
+"I say, I'm most awfully sorry. I got the wool."
+
+"If you think I'm going to eat wool..."
+
+"Isn't there anything in the house?"
+
+"Vegetables and fruit."
+
+"Fine! But, of course, if you want chops..."
+
+"Not at all. I'm spiritual. Besides, people say that vegetables are good
+for the blood-pressure or something. Of course you forgot to get the
+mail, too?"
+
+"Absolutely not! I was on to it like a knife. Two letters from fellows
+wanting Airedale puppies."
+
+"No! Ginger, we are getting on!"
+
+"Pretty bloated," agreed Ginger complacently. "Pretty bloated. We'll be
+able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on like this. There was
+a letter for you. Here it is."
+
+"It's from Fillmore," said Sally, examining the envelope as they went
+into the kitchen. "And about time, too. I haven't had a word from him
+for months."
+
+She sat down and opened the letter. Ginger, heaving himself on to the
+table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his
+evening paper. But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he
+lowered it and allowed his gaze to rest on Sally's bent head with a
+feeling of utter contentment.
+
+Although a married man of nearly a year's standing, Ginger was still
+moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable fully
+to realize that such bliss could be. Ginger in his time had seen many
+things that looked good from a distance, but not one that had borne the
+test of a closer acquaintance--except this business of marriage.
+
+Marriage, with Sally for a partner, seemed to be one of the very few
+things in the world in which there was no catch. His honest eyes glowed
+as he watched her. Sally broke into a little splutter of laughter.
+
+"Ginger, look at this!"
+
+He reached down and took the slip of paper which she held out to him.
+The following legend met his eye, printed in bold letters:
+
+                                 POPP'S
+
+                              OUTSTANDING
+
+                 SUCCULENT----APPETIZING----NUTRITIOUS.
+
+
+
+                        (JUST SAY "POP!" A CHILD
+
+                              CAN DO IT.)
+
+
+
+Ginger regarded this cipher with a puzzled frown.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"It's Fillmore."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+Sally gurgled.
+
+"Fillmore and Gladys have started a little restaurant in Pittsburg."
+
+"A restaurant!" There was a shocked note in Ginger's voice. Although
+he knew that the managerial career of that modern Napoleon, his
+brother-in-law, had terminated in something of a smash, he had
+never quite lost his reverence for one whom he considered a bit of a
+master-mind. That Fillmore Nicholas, the Man of Destiny, should have
+descended to conducting a restaurant--and a little restaurant at
+that--struck him as almost indecent.
+
+Sally, on the other hand--for sisters always seem to fail in proper
+reverence for the greatness of their brothers--was delighted.
+
+"It's the most splendid idea," she said with enthusiasm. "It really does
+look as if Fillmore was going to amount to something at last. Apparently
+they started on quite a small scale, just making pork-pies..."
+
+"Why Popp?" interrupted Ginger, ventilating a question which was
+perplexing him deeply.
+
+"Just a trade name, silly. Gladys is a wonderful cook, you know, and she
+made the pies and Fillmore toddled round selling them. And they did
+so well that now they've started a regular restaurant, and that's a
+success, too. Listen to this." Sally gurgled again and turned over the
+letter. "Where is it? Oh yes! '... sound financial footing. In fact, our
+success has been so instantaneous that I have decided to launch out on
+a really big scale. It is Big Ideas that lead to Big Business. I am
+contemplating a vast extension of this venture of ours, and in a very
+short time I shall organize branches in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and
+all the big cities, each in charge of a manager and each offering as
+a special feature, in addition to the usual restaurant cuisine, these
+Popp's Outstanding Pork-pies of ours. That done, and having established
+all these branches as going concerns, I shall sail for England and
+introduce Popp's Pork-pies there...' Isn't he a little wonder!"
+
+"Dashed brainy chap. Always said so."
+
+"I must say I was rather uneasy when I read that. I've seen so many of
+Fillmore's Big Ideas. That's always the way with him. He gets something
+good and then goes and overdoes it and bursts. However, it's all right
+now that he's got Gladys to look after him. She has added a postscript.
+Just four words, but oh! how comforting to a sister's heart. 'Yes, I
+don't think!' is what she says, and I don't know when I've read anything
+more cheering. Thank heaven, she's got poor dear Fillmore well in hand."
+
+"Pork-pies!" said Ginger, musingly, as the pangs of a healthy
+hunger began to assail his interior. "I wish he'd sent us one of the
+outstanding little chaps. I could do with it."
+
+Sally got up and ruffled his red hair.
+
+"Poor old Ginger! I knew you'd never be able to stick it. Come on, it's
+a lovely night, let's walk to the village and revel at the inn. We're
+going to be millionaires before we know where we are, so we can afford
+it."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
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+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
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+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
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+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Adventures of Sally
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: July 31, 2009 [EBook #7464]
+Last Updated: March 12, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Tim Barnett, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By P. G. Wodehouse
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SALLY GIVES A
+        PARTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;ENTER
+        GINGER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+        DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.
+        </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SALLY HEARS NEWS <br /><br />
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;FIRST AID FOR
+        FILLMORE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SOME
+        MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.
+        </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE&mdash;AND GINGER <br /><br />
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;GINGER BECOMES A
+        RIGHT-HAND MAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SALLY
+        IN THE SHADOWS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SALLY
+        RUNS AWAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SOME
+        LETTERS FOR GINGER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.
+        </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;MR. ABRAHAMS
+        RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER
+        XV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;SALLY
+        LAYS A GHOST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;JOURNEY'S
+        END <br /><br />
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I. SALLY GIVES A PARTY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally looked contentedly down the long table. She felt happy at last.
+      Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after an
+      uncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would be. The
+      first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only too well
+      aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had worn off;
+      and the male and female patrons of Mrs. Meecher's select boarding-house
+      (transient and residential) were themselves again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the great
+      vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it. The next
+      best thing to having money of one's own, is to dictate the spending of
+      somebody else's, and Sally's guests were finding a good deal of
+      satisfaction in arranging a Budget for her. Rumour having put the sum at
+      their disposal at a high figure, their suggestions had certain
+      spaciousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me tell you,&rdquo; said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, &ldquo;what I'd do, if I
+      were you.&rdquo; Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an intensely subordinate
+      position in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown, the Wall Street brokers,
+      always affected a brisk, incisive style of speech, as befitted a man in
+      close touch with the great ones of Finance. &ldquo;I'd sink a couple of hundred
+      thousand in some good, safe bond-issue&mdash;we've just put one out which
+      you would do well to consider&mdash;and play about with the rest. When I
+      say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.
+      Multiple Steel's worth looking at. They tell me it'll be up to a hundred
+      and fifty before next Saturday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's
+      left, had other views.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buy a theatre, Sally, and put on good stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And lose every bean you've got,&rdquo; said a mild young man, with a deep voice
+      across the table. &ldquo;If I had a few hundred thousand,&rdquo; said the mild young
+      man, &ldquo;I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the heavyweight
+      championship. I've private information that Battling Tuke has been got at
+      and means to lie down in the seventh...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, listen,&rdquo; interrupted another voice, &ldquo;lemme tell you what I'd do with
+      four hundred thousand...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had four hundred thousand,&rdquo; said Elsa Doland, &ldquo;I know what would be
+      the first thing I'd do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; asked Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay my bill for last week, due this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her
+      friend's shoulder and whispered in her ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Elsa Doland laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're an angel, Sally. There's no one like you. You'd give your last
+      cent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from the
+      road, and I've saved a fortune. I only said that to draw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had now
+      divided itself into two schools of thought. The conservative and prudent
+      element, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on three hundred
+      thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe real estate; while the
+      smaller, more sporting section, impressed by the mild young man's inside
+      information, had already placed Sally's money on Benny Whistler, doling it
+      out cautiously in small sums so as not to spoil the market. And so solid,
+      it seemed, was Mr. Tuke's reputation with those in the inner circle of
+      knowledge that the mild young man was confident that, if you went about
+      the matter cannily and without precipitation, three to one might be
+      obtained. It seemed to Sally that the time had come to correct certain
+      misapprehensions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know where you get your figures,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but I'm afraid
+      they're wrong. I've just twenty-five thousand dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The statement had a chilling effect. To these jugglers with half-millions
+      the amount mentioned seemed for the moment almost too small to bother
+      about. It was the sort of sum which they had been mentally setting aside
+      for the heiress's car fare. Then they managed to adjust their minds to it.
+      After all, one could do something even with a pittance like twenty-five
+      thousand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I'd twenty-five thousand,&rdquo; said Augustus Bartlett, the first to rally
+      from the shock, &ldquo;I'd buy Amalgamated...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had twenty-five thousand...&rdquo; began Elsa Doland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I'd had twenty-five thousand in the year nineteen hundred,&rdquo; observed a
+      gloomy-looking man with spectacles, &ldquo;I could have started a revolution in
+      Paraguay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He brooded sombrely on what might have been.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I'm going
+      to start with a trip to Europe... France, specially. I've heard France
+      well spoken of&mdash;as soon as I can get my passport; and after I've
+      loafed there for a few weeks, I'm coming back to look about and find some
+      nice cosy little business which will let me put money into it and keep me
+      in luxury. Are there any complaints?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even a couple of thousand on Benny Whistler...&rdquo; said the mild young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want your Benny Whistler,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I wouldn't have him if
+      you gave him to me. If I want to lose money, I'll go to Monte Carlo and do
+      it properly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monte Carlo,&rdquo; said the gloomy man, brightening up at the magic name. &ldquo;I
+      was in Monte Carlo in the year '97, and if I'd had another fifty
+      dollars... just fifty... I'd have...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the far end of the table there was a stir, a cough, and the grating of
+      a chair on the floor; and slowly, with that easy grace which actors of the
+      old school learned in the days when acting was acting, Mr. Maxwell
+      Faucitt, the boarding-house's oldest inhabitant, rose to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, bowing courteously, &ldquo;and...&rdquo; ceasing to bow
+      and casting from beneath his white and venerable eyebrows a quelling
+      glance at certain male members of the boarding-house's younger set who
+      were showing a disposition towards restiveness, &ldquo;... gentlemen. I feel
+      that I cannot allow this occasion to pass without saying a few words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His audience did not seem surprised. It was possible that life, always
+      prolific of incident in a great city like New York, might some day produce
+      an occasion which Mr. Faucitt would feel that he could allow to pass
+      without saying a few words; but nothing of the sort had happened as yet,
+      and they had given up hope. Right from the start of the meal they had felt
+      that it would be optimism run mad to expect the old gentleman to abstain
+      from speech on the night of Sally Nicholas' farewell dinner party; and
+      partly because they had braced themselves to it, but principally because
+      Miss Nicholas' hospitality had left them with a genial feeling of
+      repletion, they settled themselves to listen with something resembling
+      equanimity. A movement on the part of the Marvellous Murphys&mdash;new
+      arrivals, who had been playing the Bushwick with their equilibristic act
+      during the preceding week&mdash;to form a party of the extreme left and
+      heckle the speaker, broke down under a cold look from their hostess. Brief
+      though their acquaintance had been, both of these lissom young gentlemen
+      admired Sally immensely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it should be set on record that this admiration of theirs was not
+      misplaced. He would have been hard to please who had not been attracted by
+      Sally. She was a small, trim, wisp of a girl with the tiniest hands and
+      feet, the friendliest of smiles, and a dimple that came and went in the
+      curve of her rounded chin. Her eyes, which disappeared when she laughed,
+      which was often, were a bright hazel; her hair a soft mass of brown. She
+      had, moreover, a manner, an air of distinction lacking in the majority of
+      Mrs. Meecher's guests. And she carried youth like a banner. In approving
+      of Sally, the Marvellous Murphys had been guilty of no lapse from their
+      high critical standard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been asked,&rdquo; proceeded Mr. Faucitt, &ldquo;though I am aware that there
+      are others here far worthier of such a task&mdash;Brutuses compared with
+      whom I, like Marc Antony, am no orator&mdash;I have been asked to propose
+      the health...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who asked you?&rdquo; It was the smaller of the Marvellous Murphys who spoke.
+      He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty. Still, he could balance
+      himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while revolving a
+      barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been asked,&rdquo; repeated Mr. Faucitt, ignoring the unmannerly
+      interruption, which, indeed, he would have found it hard to answer, &ldquo;to
+      propose the health of our charming hostess (applause), coupled with the
+      name of her brother, our old friend Fillmore Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman referred to, who sat at the speaker's end of the table,
+      acknowledged the tribute with a brief nod of the head. It was a nod of
+      condescension; the nod of one who, conscious of being hedged about by
+      social inferiors, nevertheless does his best to be not unkindly. And
+      Sally, seeing it, debated in her mind for an instant the advisability of
+      throwing an orange at her brother. There was one lying ready to her hand,
+      and his glistening shirt-front offered an admirable mark; but she
+      restrained herself. After all, if a hostess yields to her primitive
+      impulses, what happens? Chaos. She had just frowned down the exuberance of
+      the rebellious Murphys, and she felt that if, even with the highest
+      motives, she began throwing fruit, her influence for good in that quarter
+      would be weakened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned back with a sigh. The temptation had been hard to resist. A
+      democratic girl, pomposity was a quality which she thoroughly disliked;
+      and though she loved him, she could not disguise from herself that, ever
+      since affluence had descended upon him some months ago, her brother
+      Fillmore had become insufferably pompous. If there are any young men whom
+      inherited wealth improves, Fillmore Nicholas was not one of them. He
+      seemed to regard himself nowadays as a sort of Man of Destiny. To converse
+      with him was for the ordinary human being like being received in audience
+      by some more than stand-offish monarch. It had taken Sally over an hour to
+      persuade him to leave his apartment on Riverside Drive and revisit the
+      boarding-house for this special occasion; and, when he had come, he had
+      entered wearing such faultless evening dress that he had made the rest of
+      the party look like a gathering of tramp-cyclists. His white waistcoat
+      alone was a silent reproach to honest poverty, and had caused an awkward
+      constraint right through the soup and fish courses. Most of those present
+      had known Fillmore Nicholas as an impecunious young man who could make a
+      tweed suit last longer than one would have believed possible; they had
+      called him &ldquo;Fill&rdquo; and helped him in more than usually lean times with
+      small loans: but to-night they had eyed the waistcoat dumbly and shrank
+      back abashed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speaking,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, &ldquo;as an Englishman&mdash;for though I have
+      long since taken out what are technically known as my 'papers' it was as a
+      subject of the island kingdom that I first visited this great country&mdash;I
+      may say that the two factors in American life which have always made the
+      profoundest impression upon me have been the lavishness of American
+      hospitality and the charm of the American girl. To-night we have been
+      privileged to witness the American girl in the capacity of hostess, and I
+      think I am right in saying, in asseverating, in committing myself to the
+      statement that this has been a night which none of us present here will
+      ever forget. Miss Nicholas has given us, ladies and gentlemen, a banquet.
+      I repeat, a banquet. There has been alcoholic refreshment. I do not know
+      where it came from: I do not ask how it was procured, but we have had it.
+      Miss Nicholas...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Faucitt paused to puff at his cigar. Sally's brother Fillmore
+      suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch. Sally continued to lean
+      forward raptly. She knew how happy it made the old gentleman to deliver a
+      formal speech; and though she wished the subject had been different, she
+      was prepared to listen indefinitely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Nicholas,&rdquo; resumed Mr. Faucitt, lowering his cigar, &ldquo;... But why,&rdquo;
+       he demanded abruptly, &ldquo;do I call her Miss Nicholas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it's her name,&rdquo; hazarded the taller Murphy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Faucitt eyed him with disfavour. He disapproved of the marvellous
+      brethren on general grounds because, himself a resident of years standing,
+      he considered that these transients from the vaudeville stage lowered the
+      tone of the boarding-house; but particularly because the one who had just
+      spoken had, on his first evening in the place, addressed him as &ldquo;grandpa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; he said severely, &ldquo;it is her name. But she has another name,
+      sweeter to those who love her, those who worship her, those who have
+      watched her with the eye of sedulous affection through the three years she
+      has spent beneath this roof, though that name,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, lowering
+      the tone of his address and descending to what might almost be termed
+      personalities, &ldquo;may not be familiar to a couple of dud acrobats who have
+      only been in the place a week-end, thank heaven, and are off to-morrow to
+      infest some other city. That name,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, soaring once more to
+      a loftier plane, &ldquo;is Sally. Our Sally. For three years our Sally has
+      flitted about this establishment like&mdash;I choose the simile advisedly&mdash;like
+      a ray of sunshine. For three years she has made life for us a brighter,
+      sweeter thing. And now a sudden access of worldly wealth, happily
+      synchronizing with her twenty-first birthday, is to remove her from our
+      midst. From our midst, ladies and gentlemen, but not from our hearts. And
+      I think I may venture to hope, to prognosticate, that, whatever lofty
+      sphere she may adorn in the future, to whatever heights in the social
+      world she may soar, she will still continue to hold a corner in her own
+      golden heart for the comrades of her Bohemian days. Ladies and gentlemen,
+      I give you our hostess, Miss Sally Nicholas, coupled with the name of our
+      old friend, her brother Fillmore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, watching her brother heave himself to his feet as the cheers died
+      away, felt her heart beat a little faster with anticipation. Fillmore was
+      a fluent young man, once a power in his college debating society, and it
+      was for that reason that she had insisted on his coming here tonight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had guessed that Mr. Faucitt, the old dear, would say all sorts of
+      delightful things about her, and she had mistrusted her ability to make a
+      fitting reply. And it was imperative that a fitting reply should proceed
+      from someone. She knew Mr. Faucitt so well. He looked on these occasions
+      rather in the light of scenes from some play; and, sustaining his own part
+      in them with such polished grace, was certain to be pained by anything in
+      the nature of an anti-climax after he should have ceased to take the
+      stage. Eloquent himself, he must be answered with eloquence, or his whole
+      evening would be spoiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore Nicholas smoothed a wrinkle out of his white waistcoat; and
+      having rested one podgy hand on the table-cloth and the thumb of the other
+      in his pocket, glanced down the table with eyes so haughtily drooping that
+      Sally's fingers closed automatically about her orange, as she wondered
+      whether even now it might not be a good thing...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seems to be one of Nature's laws that the most attractive girls should
+      have the least attractive brothers. Fillmore Nicholas had not worn well.
+      At the age of seven he had been an extraordinarily beautiful child, but
+      after that he had gone all to pieces; and now, at the age of twenty-five,
+      it would be idle to deny that he was something of a mess. For the three
+      years preceding his twenty-fifth birthday, restricted means and hard work
+      had kept his figure in check; but with money there had come an
+      ever-increasing sleekness. He looked as if he fed too often and too well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this, however, Sally was prepared to forgive him, if he would only
+      make a good speech. She could see Mr. Faucitt leaning back in his chair,
+      all courteous attention. Rolling periods were meat and drink to the old
+      gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure,&rdquo; said Fillmore, &ldquo;you don't want a speech... Very good of you to
+      drink our health. Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect of these few simple words on the company was marked, but not in
+      every case identical. To the majority the emotion which they brought was
+      one of unmixed relief. There had been something so menacing, so easy and
+      practised, in Fillmore's attitude as he had stood there that the
+      gloomier-minded had given him at least twenty minutes, and even the
+      optimists had reckoned that they would be lucky if they got off with ten.
+      As far as the bulk of the guests were concerned, there was no grumbling.
+      Fillmore's, to their thinking, had been the ideal after-dinner speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Far different was it with Mr. Maxwell Faucitt. The poor old man was
+      wearing such an expression of surprise and dismay as he might have worn
+      had somebody unexpectedly pulled the chair from under him. He was feeling
+      the sick shock which comes to those who tread on a non-existent last
+      stair. And Sally, catching sight of his face, uttered a sharp wordless
+      exclamation as if she had seen a child fall down and hurt itself in the
+      street. The next moment she had run round the table and was standing
+      behind him with her arms round his neck. She spoke across him with a sob
+      in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother,&rdquo; she stammered, directing a malevolent look at the immaculate
+      Fillmore, who, avoiding her gaze, glanced down his nose and smoothed
+      another wrinkle out of his waistcoat, &ldquo;has not said quite&mdash;quite all
+      I hoped he was going to say. I can't make a speech, but...&rdquo; Sally gulped,
+      &ldquo;... but, I love you all and of course I shall never forget you, and...
+      and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Sally kissed Mr. Faucitt and burst into tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, soothingly. The kindest critic could not
+      have claimed that Sally had been eloquent: nevertheless Mr. Maxwell
+      Faucitt was conscious of no sense of anti-climax.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.
+      The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-house
+      immediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, who had
+      furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into the night,
+      had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly indignant sister. Her
+      remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating sounds from the accused, had
+      lasted some ten minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubber
+      ball which has been sat on. Dignified as he was to the world, he had never
+      been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally when in one of
+      these moods of hers. He regretted this, for it hurt his self-esteem, but
+      he did not see how the fact could be altered. Sally had always been like
+      that. Even the uncle, who after the deaths of their parents had become
+      their guardian, had never, though a grim man, been able to cope
+      successfully with Sally. In that last hectic scene three years ago, which
+      had ended in their going out into the world, together like a second Adam
+      and Eve, the verbal victory had been hers. And it had been Sally who had
+      achieved triumph in the one battle which Mrs. Meecher, apparently as a
+      matter of duty, always brought about with each of her patrons in the first
+      week of their stay. A sweet-tempered girl, Sally, like most women of a
+      generous spirit, had cyclonic potentialities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till he had
+      reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the defence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have I done?&rdquo; demanded Fillmore plaintively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want to hear all over again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Fillmore hastily. &ldquo;But, listen, Sally, you don't understand
+      my position. You don't seem to realize that all that sort of thing, all
+      that boarding-house stuff, is a thing of the past. One's got beyond it.
+      One wants to drop it. One wants to forget it, darn it! Be fair. Look at it
+      from my viewpoint. I'm going to be a big man...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're going to be a fat man,&rdquo; said Sally, coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore refrained from discussing the point. He was sensitive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to do big things,&rdquo; he substituted. &ldquo;I've got a deal on at this
+      very moment which... well, I can't tell you about it, but it's going to be
+      big. Well, what I'm driving at, is about all this sort of thing&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      indicated the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher's home-from-home with a wide
+      gesture&mdash;&ldquo;is that it's over. Finished and done with. These people
+      were all very well when...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... when you'd lost your week's salary at poker and wanted to borrow a
+      few dollars for the rent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always paid them back,&rdquo; protested Fillmore, defensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we did,&rdquo; said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the air of a
+      man who has no time for chopping straws. &ldquo;Anyway, what I mean is, I don't
+      see why, just because one has known people at a certain period in one's
+      life when one was practically down and out, one should have them round
+      one's neck for ever. One can't prevent people forming an I-knew-him-when
+      club, but, darn it, one needn't attend the meetings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One's friends...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, friends,&rdquo; said Fillmore. &ldquo;That's just where all this makes me so
+      tired. One's in a position where all these people are entitled to call
+      themselves one's friends, simply because father put it in his will that I
+      wasn't to get the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting me have
+      it at twenty-one like anybody else. I wonder where I should have been by
+      now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the poor-house, probably,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore was wounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you don't believe in me,&rdquo; he sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you would be all right if you had one thing,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.
+      Brains? Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct. He
+      wondered where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One thing?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's sense of injury deepened. He supposed that this was always the
+      way, that those nearest to a man never believed in his ability till he had
+      proved it so masterfully that it no longer required the assistance of
+      faith. Still, it was trying; and there was not much consolation to be
+      derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to go through this sort of
+      thing in his day. &ldquo;I shall find my place in the world,&rdquo; he said sulkily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you'll find your place all right,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;And I'll come round
+      and bring you jelly and read to you on the days when visitors are
+      allowed... Oh, hullo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swinging briskly
+      along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who now, coming
+      abreast of them, stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Mr. Foster.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening. Miss Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know my brother, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He left the underworld before you came to it,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;You wouldn't
+      think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater among the
+      proletariat, even as you and I. Mrs. Meecher looks on him as a son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men shook hands. Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Foster with
+      his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him. He was an
+      Englishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed, and
+      very good to look at. Fillmore, who had recently been going in for one of
+      those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the better to fit
+      himself for his career of greatness, was rather impressed. It seemed to
+      him that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was one of those who Get There. If
+      you are that kind yourself, you get into the knack of recognizing the
+      others. It is a sort of gift.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind that
+      usually follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorry to
+      get the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival to remove
+      himself. He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it seemed probable
+      that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less. He was glad that Mr.
+      Foster had happened along at this particular juncture. Excusing himself
+      briefly, he hurried off down the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round the
+      corner. She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too late,
+      she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would have been
+      agreeable to say to him. And it had become obvious to her that Fillmore
+      was not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing said to him nowadays.
+      Then she dismissed him from her mind and turning to Gerald Foster, slipped
+      her arm through his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Jerry, darling,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What a shame you couldn't come to the
+      party. Tell me all about everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was exactly two months since Sally had become engaged to Gerald Foster;
+      but so rigorously had they kept the secret that nobody at Mrs. Meecher's
+      so much as suspected it. To Sally, who all her life had hated concealing
+      things, secrecy of any kind was objectionable: but in this matter Gerald
+      had shown an odd streak almost of furtiveness in his character. An
+      announced engagement complicated life. People fussed about you and
+      bothered you. People either watched you or avoided you. Such were his
+      arguments, and Sally, who would have glossed over and found excuses for a
+      disposition on his part towards homicide or arson, put them down to
+      artistic sensitiveness. There is nobody so sensitive as your artist,
+      particularly if he be unsuccessful: and when an artist has so little
+      success that he cannot afford to make a home for the woman he loves, his
+      sensitiveness presumably becomes great indeed. Putting herself in his
+      place, Sally could see that a protracted engagement, known by everybody,
+      would be a standing advertisement of Gerald's failure to make good: and
+      she acquiesced in the policy of secrecy, hoping that it would not last
+      long. It seemed absurd to think of Gerald as an unsuccessful man. He had
+      in him, as the recent Fillmore had perceived, something dynamic. He was
+      one of those men of whom one could predict that they would succeed very
+      suddenly and rapidly&mdash;overnight, as it were.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The party,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;went off splendidly.&rdquo; They had passed the
+      boarding-house door, and were walking slowly down the street. &ldquo;Everybody
+      enjoyed themselves, I think, even though Fillmore did his best to spoil
+      things by coming looking like an advertisement of What The Smart Men Will
+      Wear This Season. You didn't see his waistcoat just now. He had covered it
+      up. Conscience, I suppose. It was white and bulgy and gleaming and full up
+      of pearl buttons and everything. I saw Augustus Bartlett curl up like a
+      burnt feather when he caught sight of it. Still, time seemed to heal the
+      wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit. Mr. Faucitt made a speech and I
+      made a speech and cried, and...oh, it was all very festive. It only needed
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could have come. I had to go to that dinner, though. Sally...&rdquo;
+       Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with suppressed
+      excitement. &ldquo;Sally, the play's going to be put on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gave a little gasp. She had lived this moment in anticipation for
+      weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She
+      had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were
+      wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also
+      admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was
+      another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr.
+      Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider
+      that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with a
+      future who would do something big directly she got her chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; She gave his arm a hug. &ldquo;How simply terrific! Then Goble and Kohn
+      have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not that one,&rdquo; he said reluctantly. &ldquo;No hope there, I'm afraid. I saw
+      Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right. The one
+      that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember? It's got a
+      big part for a girl in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course! The one Elsa liked so much. Well, that's just as good. Who's
+      going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it happens...&rdquo; Gerald hesitated once more. &ldquo;It seems that this man
+      I was dining with to-night&mdash;a man named Cracknell...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cracknell? Not the Cracknell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Cracknell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The one people are always talking about. The man they call the
+      Millionaire Kid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Why, do you know him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was at Harvard with Fillmore. I never saw him, but he must be rather a
+      painful person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he's all right. Not much brains, of course, but&mdash;well, he's all
+      right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's splendid,&rdquo; said Sally: but she could not get the right ring
+      of enthusiasm into her voice. She had had ideals for Gerald. She had
+      dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under the banner of one of
+      the big managers whose name carried a prestige, and there seemed something
+      unworthy in this association with a man whose chief claim to eminence lay
+      in the fact that he was credited by metropolitan gossip with possessing
+      the largest private stock of alcohol in existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would be pleased,&rdquo; said Gerald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had
+      already begun to cast off her momentary depression. After all, did it
+      matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A manager
+      was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if he had money
+      for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer sensibilities from
+      him? The real thing that mattered was the question of who was going to
+      play the leading part, that deftly drawn character which had so excited
+      the admiration of Elsa Doland. She sought information on this point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who will play Ruth?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You must have somebody wonderful. It
+      needs a tremendously clever woman. Did Mr. Cracknell say anything about
+      that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, we discussed that, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it seems...&rdquo; Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy
+      embarrassment. Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night without
+      feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a dark alley.
+      She noticed it the more because it was so different from his usual direct
+      method. Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who apologize for
+      themselves. He was forthright and masterful and inclined to talk to her
+      from a height. To-night he seemed different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know Mabel Hobson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mabel Hobson? I've seen her in the 'Follies,' of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally started. A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its absurdity
+      became manifest the moment it had formed. And yet was it absurd? Most
+      Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the boarding-house, chiefly
+      through the medium of that seasoned sport, the mild young man who thought
+      so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler, and she was aware that the
+      name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always getting itself linked with
+      somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss Hobson. It seemed likely that
+      in this instance rumour spoke truth, for the lady was of that compellingly
+      blonde beauty which attracts the Cracknells of this world. But even so...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems that Cracknell...&rdquo; said Gerald. &ldquo;Apparently this man
+      Cracknell...&rdquo; He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat
+      trying. &ldquo;Well, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and...
+      well, he thinks this part would suit her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Jerry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of a
+      Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as to
+      make him entrust a part like Ruth in &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo; to one who, when
+      desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses across
+      the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that she had
+      not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald could perceive
+      that this was not the stuff of which great emotional actresses are made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Jerry!&rdquo; she said again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an uncomfortable silence. They turned and walked back in the
+      direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get
+      itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache
+      that was almost like a physical pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerry! Is it worth it?&rdquo; she burst out vehemently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual
+      decisive speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worth it? Of course it's worth it. It's a Broadway production. That's all
+      that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to get a play on
+      Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away my chance when
+      it comes along just because one might do better in the way of casting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first
+      degree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense. She'll be all right. The part will play itself. Besides, she
+      has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the money
+      in the world to make the thing a success. And it will be a start, whatever
+      happens. Of course, it's worth it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore would have been impressed by this speech. He would have
+      recognized and respected in it the unmistakable ring which characterizes
+      even the lightest utterances of those who get there. On Sally it had not
+      immediately that effect. Nevertheless, her habit of making the best of
+      things, working together with that primary article of her creed that the
+      man she loved could do no wrong, succeeded finally in raising her spirits.
+      Of course Jerry was right. It would have been foolish to refuse a contract
+      because all its clauses were not ideal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You old darling,&rdquo; she said affectionately attaching herself to the vacant
+      arm once more and giving it a penitent squeeze, &ldquo;you're quite right. Of
+      course you are. I can see it now. I was only a little startled at first.
+      Everything's going to be wonderful. Let's get all our chickens out and
+      count 'em. How are you going to spend the money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know how I'm going to spend a dollar of it,&rdquo; said Gerald completely
+      restored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean the big money. What's a dollar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It pays for a marriage-licence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gave his arm another squeeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Look at this man. Observe him. My
+      partner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II. ENTER GINGER
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was sitting with her back against a hillock of golden sand, watching
+      with half-closed eyes the denizens of Roville-sur-Mer at their familiar
+      morning occupations. At Roville, as at most French seashore resorts, the
+      morning is the time when the visiting population assembles in force on the
+      beach. Whiskered fathers of families made cheerful patches of colour in
+      the foreground. Their female friends and relatives clustered in groups
+      under gay parasols. Dogs roamed to and fro, and children dug industriously
+      with spades, ever and anon suspending their labours in order to smite one
+      another with these handy implements. One of the dogs, a poodle of military
+      aspect, wandered up to Sally: and discovering that she was in possession
+      of a box of sweets, decided to remain and await developments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Few things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them, but Sally's
+      vacation had proved an exception to this rule. It had been a magic month
+      of lazy happiness. She had drifted luxuriously from one French town to
+      another, till the charm of Roville, with its blue sky, its Casino, its
+      snow-white hotels along the Promenade, and its general glitter and gaiety,
+      had brought her to a halt. Here she could have stayed indefinitely, but
+      the voice of America was calling her back. Gerald had written to say that
+      &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo; was to be produced in Detroit, preliminary to its New
+      York run, so soon that, if she wished to see the opening, she must return
+      at once. A scrappy, hurried, unsatisfactory letter, the letter of a busy
+      man: but one that Sally could not ignore. She was leaving Roville
+      to-morrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To-day, however, was to-day: and she sat and watched the bathers with a
+      familiar feeling of peace, revelling as usual in the still novel sensation
+      of having nothing to do but bask in the warm sunshine and listen to the
+      faint murmur of the little waves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, if there was one drawback, she had discovered, to a morning on the
+      Roville plage, it was that you had a tendency to fall asleep: and this is
+      a degrading thing to do so soon after breakfast, even if you are on a
+      holiday. Usually, Sally fought stoutly against the temptation, but to-day
+      the sun was so warm and the whisper of the waves so insinuating that she
+      had almost dozed off, when she was aroused by voices close at hand. There
+      were many voices on the beach, both near and distant, but these were
+      talking English, a novelty in Roville, and the sound of the familiar
+      tongue jerked Sally back from the borders of sleep. A few feet away, two
+      men had seated themselves on the sand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the first moment she had set out on her travels, it had been one of
+      Sally's principal amusements to examine the strangers whom chance threw in
+      her way and to try by the light of her intuition to fit them out with
+      characters and occupations: nor had she been discouraged by an almost
+      consistent failure to guess right. Out of the corner of her eye she
+      inspected these two men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first of the pair did not attract her. He was a tall, dark man whose
+      tight, precise mouth and rather high cheeks bones gave him an appearance
+      vaguely sinister. He had the dusky look of the clean-shaven man whose life
+      is a perpetual struggle with a determined beard. He certainly shaved twice
+      a day, and just as certainly had the self-control not to swear when he cut
+      himself. She could picture him smiling nastily when this happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hard,&rdquo; diagnosed Sally. &ldquo;I shouldn't like him. A lawyer or something, I
+      think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned to the other and found herself looking into his eyes. This was
+      because he had been staring at Sally with the utmost intentness ever since
+      his arrival. His mouth had opened slightly. He had the air of a man who,
+      after many disappointments, has at last found something worth looking at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather a dear,&rdquo; decided Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a sturdy, thick-set young man with an amiable, freckled face and
+      the reddest hair Sally had ever seen. He had a square chin, and at one
+      angle of the chin a slight cut. And Sally was convinced that, however he
+      had behaved on receipt of that wound, it had not been with superior
+      self-control.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A temper, I should think,&rdquo; she meditated. &ldquo;Very quick, but soon over. Not
+      very clever, I should say, but nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one felt,
+      characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting a cigarette
+      in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and resumed the
+      conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by the process of
+      sitting down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how is Scrymgeour?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all right,&rdquo; replied the young man with red hair absently. Sally was
+      looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his eyes were still
+      busy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was surprised at his being here. He told me he meant to stay in Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a slight pause. Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
+      nougat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating tones
+      that vibrated with intense feeling, &ldquo;that's the prettiest girl I've seen
+      in my life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this frank revelation of the red-haired young man's personal opinions,
+      Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased. A broad-minded
+      girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on a matter of
+      public interest. The young man's companion, on the other hand, was
+      unmixedly shocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow!&rdquo; he ejaculated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it's all right,&rdquo; said the red-haired young man, unmoved. &ldquo;She can't
+      understand. There isn't a bally soul in this dashed place that can speak a
+      word of English. If I didn't happen to remember a few odd bits of French,
+      I should have starved by this time. That girl,&rdquo; he went on, returning to
+      the subject most imperatively occupying his mind, &ldquo;is an absolute topper!
+      I give you my solemn word I've never seen anybody to touch her. Look at
+      those hands and feet. You don't get them outside France. Of course, her
+      mouth is a bit wide,&rdquo; he said reluctantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's immobility, added to the other's assurance concerning the
+      linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to reassure
+      the dark man. He breathed again. At no period of his life had he ever
+      behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness himself, but he
+      had quailed at the idea of being associated even remotely with
+      incorrectness in another. It had been a black moment for him when the
+      red-haired young man had uttered those few kind words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still you ought to be careful,&rdquo; he said austerely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the poodle
+      and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and returned to
+      the topic of the mysterious Scrymgeour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is Scrymgeour's dyspepsia?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-haired young man seemed but faintly interested in the vicissitudes
+      of Scrymgeour's interior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you notice the way her hair sort of curls over her ears?&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Eh? Oh, pretty much the same, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What hotel are you staying at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Normandie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, dipping into the box for another chocolate cream, gave an
+      imperceptible start. She, too, was staying at the Normandie. She presumed
+      that her admirer was a recent arrival, for she had seen nothing of him at
+      the hotel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Normandie?&rdquo; The dark man looked puzzled. &ldquo;I know Roville pretty well
+      by report, but I've never heard of any Hotel Normandie. Where is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a little shanty down near the station. Not much of a place. Still,
+      it's cheap, and the cooking's all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His companion's bewilderment increased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What on earth is a man like Scrymgeour doing there?&rdquo; he said. Sally was
+      conscious of an urgent desire to know more and more about the absent
+      Scrymgeour. Constant repetition of his name had made him seem almost like
+      an old friend. &ldquo;If there's one thing he's fussy about...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are at least eleven thousand things he's fussy about,&rdquo; interrupted
+      the red-haired young man disapprovingly. &ldquo;Jumpy old blighter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If there's one thing he's particular about, it's the sort of hotel he
+      goes to. Ever since I've known him he has always wanted the best. I should
+      have thought he would have gone to the Splendide.&rdquo; He mused on this
+      problem in a dissatisfied sort of way for a moment, then seemed to
+      reconcile himself to the fact that a rich man's eccentricities must be
+      humoured. &ldquo;I'd like to see him again. Ask him if he will dine with me at
+      the Splendide to-night. Say eight sharp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, occupied with her dogs, whose numbers had now been augmented by a
+      white terrier with a black patch over its left eye, could not see the
+      young man's face: but his voice, when he replied, told her that something
+      was wrong. There was a false airiness in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Scrymgeour isn't in Roville.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No? Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paris, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; The dark man's voice sharpened. He sounded as though he were
+      cross-examining a reluctant witness. &ldquo;Then why aren't you there? What are
+      you doing here? Did he give you a holiday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When do you rejoin him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-haired young man's manner was not unmistakably dogged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if you want to know,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the old blighter fired me the day
+      before yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a shuffling of sand as the dark man sprang up. Sally, intent on
+      the drama which was unfolding itself beside her, absent-mindedly gave the
+      poodle a piece of nougat which should by rights have gone to the terrier.
+      She shot a swift glance sideways, and saw the dark man standing in an
+      attitude rather reminiscent of the stern father of melodrama about to
+      drive his erring daughter out into the snow. The red-haired young man,
+      outwardly stolid, was gazing before him down the beach at a fat bather in
+      an orange suit who, after six false starts, was now actually in the water,
+      floating with the dignity of a wrecked balloon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to tell me,&rdquo; demanded the dark man, &ldquo;that, after all the
+      trouble the family took to get you what was practically a sinecure with
+      endless possibilities if you only behaved yourself, you have deliberately
+      thrown away...&rdquo; A despairing gesture completed the sentence. &ldquo;Good God,
+      you're hopeless!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-haired young man made no reply. He continued to gaze down the
+      beach. Of all outdoor sports, few are more stimulating than watching
+      middle-aged Frenchmen bathe. Drama, action, suspense, all are here. From
+      the first stealthy testing of the water with an apprehensive toe to the
+      final seal-like plunge, there is never a dull moment. And apart from the
+      excitement of the thing, judging it from a purely aesthetic standpoint,
+      his must be a dull soul who can fail to be uplifted by the spectacle of a
+      series of very stout men with whiskers, seen in tight bathing suits
+      against a background of brightest blue. Yet the young man with red hair,
+      recently in the employment of Mr. Scrymgeour, eyed this free circus
+      without any enjoyment whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's maddening! What are you going to do? What do you expect us to do?
+      Are we to spend our whole lives getting you positions which you won't
+      keep? I can tell you we're... it's monstrous! It's sickening! Good God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with these words the dark man, apparently feeling, as Sally had
+      sometimes felt in the society of her brother Fillmore, the futility of
+      mere language, turned sharply and stalked away up the beach, the dignity
+      of his exit somewhat marred a moment later by the fact of his straw hat
+      blowing off and being trodden on by a passing child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He left behind him the sort of electric calm which follows the falling of
+      a thunderbolt; that stunned calm through which the air seems still to
+      quiver protestingly. How long this would have lasted one cannot say: for
+      towards the end of the first minute it was shattered by a purely
+      terrestrial uproar. With an abruptness heralded only by one short, low
+      gurgling snarl, there sprang into being the prettiest dog fight that
+      Roville had seen that season.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the terrier with the black patch who began it. That was Sally's
+      opinion: and such, one feels, will be the verdict of history. His best
+      friend, anxious to make out a case for him, could not have denied that he
+      fired the first gun of the campaign. But we must be just. The fault was
+      really Sally's. Absorbed in the scene which had just concluded and acutely
+      inquisitive as to why the shadowy Scrymgeour had seen fit to dispense with
+      the red-haired young man's services, she had thrice in succession helped
+      the poodle out of his turn. The third occasion was too much for the
+      terrier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the average
+      mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast clashing of
+      the elements. It seems so outside one's jurisdiction. One is oppressed
+      with a sense of the futility of interference. And this was no ordinary dog
+      fight. It was a stunning mêlée, which would have excited favourable
+      comment even among the blasé residents of a negro quarter or the not
+      easily-pleased critics of a Lancashire mining-village. From all over the
+      beach dogs of every size, breed, and colour were racing to the scene: and
+      while some of these merely remained in the ringside seats and barked, a
+      considerable proportion immediately started fighting one another on
+      general principles, well content to be in action without bothering about
+      first causes. The terrier had got the poodle by the left hind-leg and was
+      restating his war-aims. The raffish mongrel was apparently endeavouring to
+      fletcherize a complete stranger of the Sealyham family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was frankly unequal to the situation, as were the entire crowd of
+      spectators who had come galloping up from the water's edge. She had been
+      paralysed from the start. Snarling bundles bumped against her legs and
+      bounced away again, but she made no move. Advice in fluent French rent the
+      air. Arms waved, and well-filled bathing suits leaped up and down. But
+      nobody did anything practical until in the centre of the theatre of war
+      there suddenly appeared the red-haired young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only reason why dog fights do not go on for ever is that Providence
+      has decided that on each such occasion there shall always be among those
+      present one Master Mind; one wizard who, whatever his shortcomings in
+      other battles of life, is in this single particular sphere competent and
+      dominating. At Roville-sur-Mer it was the red-haired young man. His dark
+      companion might have turned from him in disgust: his services might not
+      have seemed worth retaining by the haughty Scrymgeour: he might be a pain
+      in the neck to &ldquo;the family&rdquo;; but he did know how to stop a dog fight. From
+      the first moment of his intervention calm began to steal over the scene.
+      He had the same effect on the almost inextricably entwined belligerents
+      as, in mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail, sliding down the sunbeam, used to
+      have on battling knights. He did not look like a dove of peace, but the
+      most captious could not have denied that he brought home the goods. There
+      was a magic in his soothing hands, a spell in his voice: and in a shorter
+      time than one would have believed possible dog after dog had been sorted
+      out and calmed down; until presently all that was left of Armageddon was
+      one solitary small Scotch terrier, thoughtfully licking a chewed leg. The
+      rest of the combatants, once more in their right mind and wondering what
+      all the fuss was about, had been captured and haled away in a whirl of
+      recrimination by voluble owners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having achieved this miracle, the young man turned to Sally. Gallant, one
+      might say reckless, as he had been a moment before, he now gave
+      indications of a rather pleasing shyness. He braced himself with that
+      painful air of effort which announces to the world that an Englishman is
+      about to speak a language other than his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;J'espère,&rdquo; he said, having swallowed once or twice to brace himself up
+      for the journey through the jungle of a foreign tongue, &ldquo;J'espère que vous
+      n'êtes pas&mdash;oh, dammit, what's the word&mdash;J'espère que vous
+      n'êtes pas blessée?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Blessée?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, blessée. Wounded. Hurt, don't you know. Bitten. Oh, dash it.
+      J'espère...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bitten!&rdquo; said Sally, dimpling. &ldquo;Oh, no, thanks very much. I wasn't
+      bitten. And I think it was awfully brave of you to save all our lives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The compliment seemed to pass over the young man's head. He stared at
+      Sally with horrified eyes. Over his amiable face there swept a vivid
+      blush. His jaw dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my sainted aunt!&rdquo; he ejaculated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as if the situation was too much for him and flight the only
+      possible solution, he spun round and disappeared at a walk so rapid that
+      it was almost a run. Sally watched him go and was sorry that he had torn
+      himself away. She still wanted to know why Scrymgeour had fired him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      4
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bedtime at Roville is an hour that seems to vary according to one's
+      proximity to the sea. The gilded palaces along the front keep deplorable
+      hours, polluting the night air till dawn with indefatigable jazz: but at
+      the pensions of the economical like the Normandie, early to bed is the
+      rule. True, Jules, the stout young native who combined the offices of
+      night-clerk and lift attendant at that establishment, was on duty in the
+      hall throughout the night, but few of the Normandie's patrons made use of
+      his services.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, entering shortly before twelve o'clock on the night of the day on
+      which the dark man, the red-haired young man, and their friend Scrymgeour
+      had come into her life, found the little hall dim and silent. Through the
+      iron cage of the lift a single faint bulb glowed: another, over the desk
+      in the far corner, illuminated the upper half of Jules, slumbering in a
+      chair. Jules seemed to Sally to be on duty in some capacity or other all
+      the time. His work, like women's, was never done. He was now restoring his
+      tissues with a few winks of much-needed beauty sleep. Sally, who had been
+      to the Casino to hear the band and afterwards had strolled on the moonlit
+      promenade, had a guilty sense of intrusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she stood there, reluctant to break in on Jules' rest&mdash;for her
+      sympathetic heart, always at the disposal of the oppressed, had long ached
+      for this overworked peon&mdash;she was relieved to hear footsteps in the
+      street outside, followed by the opening of the front door. If Jules would
+      have had to wake up anyway, she felt her sense of responsibility lessened.
+      The door, having opened, closed again with a bang. Jules stirred, gurgled,
+      blinked, and sat up, and Sally, turning, perceived that the new arrival
+      was the red-haired young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, good evening,&rdquo; said Sally welcomingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man stopped, and shuffled uncomfortably. The morning's
+      happenings were obviously still green in his memory. He had either not
+      ceased blushing since their last meeting or he was celebrating their
+      reunion by beginning to blush again: for his face was a familiar scarlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Er&mdash;good evening,&rdquo; he said, disentangling his feet, which, in the
+      embarrassment of the moment, had somehow got coiled up together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or bon soir, I suppose you would say,&rdquo; murmured Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man acknowledged receipt of this thrust by dropping his hat and
+      tripping over it as he stooped to pick it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jules, meanwhile, who had been navigating in a sort of somnambulistic
+      trance in the neighbourhood of the lift, now threw back the cage with a
+      rattle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a shame to have woken you up,&rdquo; said Sally, commiseratingly, stepping
+      in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jules did not reply, for the excellent reason that he had not been woken
+      up. Constant practice enabled him to do this sort of work without breaking
+      his slumber. His brain, if you could call it that, was working
+      automatically. He had shut up the gate with a clang and was tugging
+      sluggishly at the correct rope, so that the lift was going slowly up
+      instead of retiring down into the basement, but he was not awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally and the red-haired young man sat side by side on the small seat,
+      watching their conductor's efforts. After the first spurt, conversation
+      had languished. Sally had nothing of immediate interest to say, and her
+      companion seemed to be one of these strong, silent men you read about.
+      Only a slight snore from Jules broke the silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the third floor Sally leaned forward and prodded Jules in the lower
+      ribs. All through her stay at Roville, she had found in dealing with the
+      native population that actions spoke louder than words. If she wanted
+      anything in a restaurant or at a shop, she pointed; and, when she wished
+      the lift to stop, she prodded the man in charge. It was a system worth a
+      dozen French conversation books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jules brought the machine to a halt: and it was at this point that he
+      should have done the one thing connected with his professional activities
+      which he did really well&mdash;the opening, to wit, of the iron cage.
+      There are ways of doing this. Jules' was the right way. He was accustomed
+      to do it with a flourish, and generally remarked &ldquo;V'la!&rdquo; in a modest but
+      self-congratulatory voice as though he would have liked to see another man
+      who could have put through a job like that. Jules' opinion was that he
+      might not be much to look at, but that he could open a lift door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To-night, however, it seemed as if even this not very exacting feat was
+      beyond his powers. Instead of inserting his key in the lock, he stood
+      staring in an attitude of frozen horror. He was a man who took most things
+      in life pretty seriously, and whatever was the little difficulty just now
+      seemed to have broken him all up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There appears,&rdquo; said Sally, turning to her companion, &ldquo;to be a hitch.
+      Would you mind asking what's the matter? I don't know any French myself
+      except 'oo la la!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man, thus appealed to, nerved himself to the task. He eyed the
+      melancholy Jules doubtfully, and coughed in a strangled sort of way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, esker... esker vous...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't weaken,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I think you've got him going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Esker vous... Pourquoi vous ne... I mean ne vous... that is to say, quel
+      est le raison...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off here, because at this point Jules began to explain. He
+      explained very rapidly and at considerable length. The fact that neither
+      of his hearers understood a word of what he was saying appeared not to
+      have impressed itself upon him. Or, if he gave a thought to it, he
+      dismissed the objection as trifling. He wanted to explain, and he
+      explained. Words rushed from him like water from a geyser. Sounds which
+      you felt you would have been able to put a meaning to if he had detached
+      them from the main body and repeated them slowly, went swirling down the
+      stream and were lost for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop him!&rdquo; said Sally firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-haired young man looked as a native of Johnstown might have looked
+      on being requested to stop that city's celebrated flood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Blow a whistle or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Out of the depths of the young man's memory there swam to the surface a
+      single word&mdash;a word which he must have heard somewhere or read
+      somewhere: a legacy, perhaps, from long-vanished school-days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zut!&rdquo; he barked, and instantaneously Jules turned himself off at the
+      main. There was a moment of dazed silence, such as might occur in a
+      boiler-factory if the works suddenly shut down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick! Now you've got him!&rdquo; cried Sally. &ldquo;Ask him what he's talking about&mdash;if
+      he knows, which I doubt&mdash;and tell him to speak slowly. Then we shall
+      get somewhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man nodded intelligently. The advice was good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lentement,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Parlez lentement. Pas si&mdash;you know what I mean&mdash;pas
+      si dashed vite!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah-a-ah!&rdquo; cried Jules, catching the idea on the fly. &ldquo;Lentement. Ah, oui,
+      lentement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There followed a lengthy conversation which, while conveying nothing to
+      Sally, seemed intelligible to the red-haired linguist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The silly ass,&rdquo; he was able to announce some few minutes later, &ldquo;has made
+      a bloomer. Apparently he was half asleep when we came in, and he shoved us
+      into the lift and slammed the door, forgetting that he had left the keys
+      on the desk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;So we're shut in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid so. I wish to goodness,&rdquo; said the young man, &ldquo;I knew French
+      well. I'd curse him with some vim and not a little animation, the chump! I
+      wonder what 'blighter' is in French,&rdquo; he said, meditating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the merest suggestion,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;but oughtn't we to do
+      something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What could we do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, for one thing, we might all utter a loud yell. It would scare most
+      of the people in the hotel to death, but there might be a survivor or two
+      who would come and investigate and let us out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a ripping idea!&rdquo; said the young man, impressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad you like it. Now tell him the main out-line, or he'll think
+      we've gone mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man searched for words, and eventually found some which
+      expressed his meaning lamely but well enough to cause Jules to nod in a
+      depressed sort of way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine!&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;Now, all together at the word 'three.' One&mdash;two&mdash;Oh,
+      poor darling!&rdquo; she broke off. &ldquo;Look at him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the far corner of the lift, the emotional Jules was sobbing silently
+      into the bunch of cotton-waste which served him in the office of a
+      pocket-handkerchief. His broken-hearted gulps echoed hollowly down the
+      shaft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      5
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In these days of cheap books of instruction on every subject under the
+      sun, we most of us know how to behave in the majority of life's little
+      crises. We have only ourselves to blame if we are ignorant of what to do
+      before the doctor comes, of how to make a dainty winter coat for baby out
+      of father's last year's under-vest and of the best method of coping with
+      the cold mutton. But nobody yet has come forward with practical advice as
+      to the correct method of behaviour to be adopted when a lift-attendant
+      starts crying. And Sally and her companion, as a consequence, for a few
+      moments merely stared at each other helplessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor darling!&rdquo; said Sally, finding speech. &ldquo;Ask him what's the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man looked at her doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I don't enjoy chatting with this blighter. I mean to
+      say, it's a bit of an effort. I don't know why it is, but talking French
+      always makes me feel as if my nose were coming off. Couldn't we just leave
+      him to have his cry out by himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea!&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;Have you no heart? Are you one of those fiends in
+      human shape?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned reluctantly to Jules, and paused to overhaul his vocabulary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to be thankful for this chance,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;It's the only
+      real way of learning French, and you're getting a lesson for nothing. What
+      did he say then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something about losing something, it seemed to me. I thought I caught the
+      word perdu.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that means a partridge, doesn't it? I'm sure I've seen it on the
+      menus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would he talk about partridges at a time like this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might. The French are extraordinary people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll have another go at him. But he's a difficult chap to chat
+      with. If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of goes off like a
+      rocket.&rdquo; He addressed another question to the sufferer, and listened
+      attentively to the voluble reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he said with sudden enlightenment. &ldquo;Your job?&rdquo; He turned to Sally.
+      &ldquo;I got it that time,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The trouble is, he says, that if we yell
+      and rouse the house, we'll get out all right, but he will lose his job,
+      because this is the second time this sort of thing has happened, and they
+      warned him last time that once more would mean the push.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we mustn't dream of yelling,&rdquo; said Sally, decidedly. &ldquo;It means a
+      pretty long wait, you know. As far as I can gather, there's just a chance
+      of somebody else coming in later, in which case he could let us out. But
+      it's doubtful. He rather thinks that everybody has gone to roost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we must try it. I wouldn't think of losing the poor man his job.
+      Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then we'll just sit
+      and amuse ourselves till something happens. We've lots to talk about. We
+      can tell each other the story of our lives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jules, cheered by his victims' kindly forbearance, lowered the car to the
+      ground floor, where, after a glance of infinite longing at the keys on the
+      distant desk, the sort of glance which Moses must have cast at the
+      Promised Land from the summit of Mount Pisgah, he sagged down in a heap
+      and resumed his slumbers. Sally settled herself as comfortably as possible
+      in her corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better smoke,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It will be something to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks awfully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;tell me why Scrymgeour fired you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Little by little, under the stimulating influence of this nocturnal
+      adventure, the red-haired young man had lost that shy confusion which had
+      rendered him so ill at ease when he had encountered Sally in the hall of
+      the hotel; but at this question embarrassment gripped him once more.
+      Another of those comprehensive blushes of his raced over his face, and he
+      stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, I'm glad... I'm fearfully sorry about that, you know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About Scrymgeour?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know what I mean. I mean, about making such a most ghastly ass of
+      myself this morning. I... I never dreamed you understood English.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I didn't object. I thought you were very nice and complimentary. Of
+      course, I don't know how many girls you've seen in your life, but...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I say, don't! It makes me feel such a chump.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'm sorry about my mouth. It is wide. But I know you're a fair-minded
+      man and realize that it isn't my fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't rub it in,&rdquo; pleaded the young man. &ldquo;As a matter of fact, if you
+      want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect. I think,&rdquo; he
+      proceeded, a little feverishly, &ldquo;that you are the most indescribable
+      topper that ever...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were going to tell me about Scrymgeour,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
+      sleep-walking. Eloquence had carried him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Scrymgeour?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Oh, that would bore you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be silly,&rdquo; said Sally reprovingly. &ldquo;Can't you realize that we're
+      practically castaways on a desert island? There's nothing to do till
+      to-morrow but talk about ourselves. I want to hear all about you, and then
+      I'll tell you all about myself. If you feel diffident about starting the
+      revelations, I'll begin. Better start with names. Mine is Sally Nicholas.
+      What's yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine? Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would. I put it as clearly as I could. Well, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the first name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as a matter of fact,&rdquo; said the young man, &ldquo;I've always rather
+      hushed up my first name, because when I was christened they worked a
+      low-down trick on me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't shock me,&rdquo; said Sally, encouragingly. &ldquo;My father's name was
+      Ezekiel, and I've a brother who was christened Fillmore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Kemp brightened. &ldquo;Well, mine isn't as bad as that... No, I don't mean
+      that,&rdquo; he broke off apologetically. &ldquo;Both awfully jolly names, of
+      course...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get on,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they called me Lancelot. And, of course, the thing is that I don't
+      look like a Lancelot and never shall. My pals,&rdquo; he added in a more
+      cheerful strain, &ldquo;call me Ginger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't blame them,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you wouldn't mind thinking of me as Ginger?'' suggested the young
+      man diffidently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's awfully good of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jules stirred in his sleep and grunted. No other sound came to disturb the
+      stillness of the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were going to tell me about yourself?&rdquo; said Mr. Lancelot (Ginger)
+      Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to tell you all about myself,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;not because I think
+      it will interest you...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it will!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not, I say, because I think it will interest you...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally looked at him coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this a duet?&rdquo; she inquired, &ldquo;or have I the floor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm awfully sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not, I repeat for the third time, because I think It will interest you,
+      but because if I do you won't have any excuse for not telling me your
+      life-history, and you wouldn't believe how inquisitive I am. Well, in the
+      first place, I live in America. I'm over here on a holiday. And it's the
+      first real holiday I've had in three years&mdash;since I left home, in
+      fact.&rdquo; Sally paused. &ldquo;I ran away from home,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good egg!&rdquo; said Ginger Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, quite right. I bet you were quite right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I say home,&rdquo; Sally went on, &ldquo;it was only a sort of imitation home,
+      you know. One of those just-as-good homes which are never as satisfactory
+      as the real kind. My father and mother both died a good many years ago. My
+      brother and I were dumped down on the reluctant doorstep of an uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncles,&rdquo; said Ginger Kemp, feelingly, &ldquo;are the devil. I've got an... but
+      I'm interrupting you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle was our trustee. He had control of all my brother's money and
+      mine till I was twenty-one. My brother was to get his when he was
+      twenty-five. My poor father trusted him blindly, and what do you think
+      happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord! The blighter embezzled the lot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not a cent. Wasn't it extraordinary! Have you ever heard of a blindly
+      trusted uncle who was perfectly honest? Well, mine was. But the trouble
+      was that, while an excellent man to have looking after one's money, he
+      wasn't a very lovable character. He was very hard. Hard! He was as hard as&mdash;well,
+      nearly as hard as this seat. He hated poor Fill...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Phil?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I broke it to you just now that my brother's name was Fillmore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, your brother. Oh, ah, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was always picking on poor Fill. And I'm bound to say that Fill rather
+      laid himself out as what you might call a pickee. He was always getting
+      into trouble. One day, about three years ago, he was expelled from
+      Harvard, and my uncle vowed he would have nothing more to do with him. So
+      I said, if Fill left, I would leave. And, as this seemed to be my uncle's
+      idea of a large evening, no objection was raised, and Fill and I departed.
+      We went to New York, and there we've been ever since. About six months'
+      ago Fill passed the twenty-five mark and collected his money, and last
+      month I marched past the given point and got mine. So it all ends happily,
+      you see. Now tell me about yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, I say, you know, dash it, you've skipped a lot. I mean to say, you
+      must have had an awful time in New York, didn't you? How on earth did you
+      get along?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we found work. My brother tried one or two things, and finally became
+      an assistant stage-manager with some theatre people. The only thing I
+      could do, having been raised in enervating luxury, was ballroom dancing,
+      so I ball-room danced. I got a job at a place in Broadway called 'The
+      Flower Garden' as what is humorously called an 'instructress,' as if
+      anybody could 'instruct' the men who came there. One was lucky if one
+      saved one's life and wasn't quashed to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How perfectly foul!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. It was rather fun for a while. Still,&rdquo; said Sally,
+      meditatively, &ldquo;I'm not saying I could have held out much longer: I was
+      beginning to give. I suppose I've been trampled underfoot by more fat men
+      than any other girl of my age in America. I don't know why it was, but
+      every man who came in who was a bit overweight seemed to make for me by
+      instinct. That's why I like to sit on the sands here and watch these
+      Frenchmen bathing. It's just heavenly to lie back and watch a two hundred
+      and fifty pound man, coming along and feel that he isn't going to dance
+      with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, I say! How absolutely rotten it must have been for you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll tell you one thing. It's going to make me a very domesticated
+      wife one of these days. You won't find me gadding about in gilded
+      jazz-palaces! For me, a little place in the country somewhere, with my
+      knitting and an Elsie book, and bed at half-past nine! And now tell me the
+      story of your life. And make it long because I'm perfectly certain there's
+      going to be no relief-expedition. I'm sure the last dweller under this
+      roof came in years ago. We shall be here till morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really think we had better shout, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And lose Jules his job? Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, of course, I'm sorry for poor old Jules' troubles, but I hate to
+      think of you having to...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now get on with the story,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      6
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger Kemp exhibited some of the symptoms of a young bridegroom called
+      upon at a wedding-breakfast to respond to the toast. He moved his feet
+      restlessly and twisted his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate talking about myself, you know,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I supposed,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;That's why I gave you my autobiography
+      first, to give you no chance of backing out. Don't be such a shrinking
+      violet. We're all shipwrecked mariners here. I am intensely interested in
+      your narrative. And, even if I wasn't, I'd much rather listen to it than
+      to Jules' snoring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is snoring a bit, what? Does it annoy you? Shall I stir him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to have an extraordinary brutal streak in your nature,&rdquo; said
+      Sally. &ldquo;You appear to think of nothing else but schemes for harassing poor
+      Jules. Leave him alone for a second, and start telling me about yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall I start?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, not with your childhood, I think. We'll skip that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo; Ginger Kemp knitted his brow, searching for a dramatic opening.
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm more or less what you might call an orphan, like you. I mean to
+      say, both my people are dead and all that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks for explaining. That has made it quite clear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't remember my mother. My father died when I was in my last year at
+      Cambridge. I'd been having a most awfully good time at the 'varsity,'&rdquo;
+       said Ginger, warming to his theme. &ldquo;Not thick, you know, but good. I'd got
+      my rugger and boxing blues and I'd just been picked for scrum-half for
+      England against the North in the first trial match, and between ourselves
+      it really did look as if I was more or less of a snip for my
+      international.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gazed at him wide eyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that good or bad?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you reciting a catalogue of your crimes, or do you expect me to get
+      up and cheer? What is a rugger blue, to start with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's... it's a rugger blue, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;You mean a rugger blue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to say, I played rugger&mdash;footer&mdash;that's to say, football&mdash;Rugby
+      football&mdash;for Cambridge, against Oxford. I was scrum-half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is a scrum-half?&rdquo; asked Sally, patiently. &ldquo;Yes, I know you're
+      going to say it's a scrum-half, but can't you make it easier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The scrum-half,&rdquo; said Ginger, &ldquo;is the half who works the scrum. He slings
+      the pill out to the fly-half, who starts the three-quarters going. I don't
+      know if you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's dashed hard to explain,&rdquo; said Ginger Kemp, unhappily. &ldquo;I mean, I
+      don't think I've ever met anyone before who didn't know what a scrum-half
+      was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I can see that it has something to do with football, so we'll leave
+      it at that. I suppose it's something like our quarter-back. And what's an
+      international?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's called getting your international when you play for England, you
+      know. England plays Wales, France, Ireland, and Scotland. If it hadn't
+      been for the smash, I think I should have played for England against
+      Wales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see at last. What you're trying to tell me is that you were very good
+      at football.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger Kemp blushed warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't say that. England was pretty short of scrum-halves that
+      year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a horrible thing to happen to a country! Still, you were likely to
+      be picked on the All-England team when the smash came? What was the
+      smash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it turned out that the poor old pater hadn't left a penny. I never
+      understood the process exactly, but I'd always supposed that we were
+      pretty well off; and then it turned out that I hadn't anything at all. I'm
+      bound to say it was a bit of a jar. I had to come down from Cambridge and
+      go to work in my uncle's office. Of course, I made an absolute hash of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm not a very clever sort of chap, you see. I somehow didn't seem
+      able to grasp the workings. After about a year, my uncle, getting a bit
+      fed-up, hoofed me out and got me a mastership at a school, and I made a
+      hash of that. He got me one or two other jobs, and I made a hash of
+      those.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You certainly do seem to be one of our most prominent young hashers!&rdquo;
+       gasped Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; said Ginger, modestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what about Scrymgeour?&rdquo; Sally asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was the last of the jobs,&rdquo; said Ginger. &ldquo;Scrymgeour is a pompous old
+      ass who thinks he's going to be Prime Minister some day. He's a big bug at
+      the Bar and has just got into Parliament. My cousin used to devil for him.
+      That's how I got mixed up with the blighter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your cousin used...? I wish you would talk English.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was my cousin who was with me on the beach this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what did you say he used to do for Mr. Scrymgeour?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it's called devilling. My cousin's at the Bar, too&mdash;one of our
+      rising nibs, as a matter of fact...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought he was a lawyer of some kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's got a long way beyond it now, but when he started he used to devil
+      for Scrymgeour&mdash;assist him, don't you know. His name's Carmyle, you
+      know. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's rather a prominent johnny in his
+      way. Bruce Carmyle, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he got me this job of secretary to Scrymgeour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why did Mr. Scrymgeour fire you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger Kemp's face darkened. He frowned. Sally, watching him, felt that
+      she had been right when she had guessed that he had a temper. She liked
+      him none the worse for it. Mild men did not appeal to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know if you're fond of dogs?&rdquo; said Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I used to be before this morning,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;And I suppose I shall be
+      again in time. For the moment I've had what you might call rather a
+      surfeit of dogs. But aren't you straying from the point? I asked you why
+      Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm telling you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad of that. I didn't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old brute,&rdquo; said Ginger, frowning again, &ldquo;has a dog. A very jolly
+      little spaniel. Great pal of mine. And Scrymgeour is the sort of fool who
+      oughtn't to be allowed to own a dog. He's one of those asses who isn't fit
+      to own a dog. As a matter of fact, of all the blighted, pompous, bullying,
+      shrivelled-souled old devils...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I'm getting an impression that you don't like
+      Mr. Scrymgeour. Am I right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so. Womanly intuition! Go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He used to insist on the poor animal doing tricks. I hate seeing a dog do
+      tricks. Dogs loathe it, you know. They're frightfully sensitive. Well,
+      Scrymgeour used to make this spaniel of his do tricks&mdash;fool-things
+      that no self-respecting dogs would do: and eventually poor old Billy got
+      fed up and jibbed. He was too polite to bite, but he sort of shook his
+      head and crawled under a chair. You'd have thought anyone would have let
+      it go at that, but would old Scrymgeour? Not a bit of it! Of all the
+      poisonous...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know. Go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the thing ended in the blighter hauling him out from under the
+      chair and getting more and more shirty, until finally he laid into him
+      with a stick. That is to say,&rdquo; said Ginger, coldly accurate, &ldquo;he started
+      laying into him with a stick.&rdquo; He brooded for a moment with knit brows. &ldquo;A
+      spaniel, mind you! Can you imagine anyone beating a spaniel? It's like
+      hitting a little girl. Well, he's a fairly oldish man, you know, and that
+      hampered me a bit: but I got hold of the stick and broke it into about
+      eleven pieces, and by great good luck it was a stick he happened to value
+      rather highly. It had a gold knob and had been presented to him by his
+      constituents or something. I minced it up a goodish bit, and then I told
+      him a fair amount about himself. And then&mdash;well, after that he shot
+      me out, and I came here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not speak for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were quite right,&rdquo; she said at last, in a sober voice that had
+      nothing in it of her customary flippancy. She paused again. &ldquo;And what are
+      you going to do now?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll get something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I shall get something, I suppose. The family will be pretty
+      sick, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For goodness' sake! Why do you bother about the family?&rdquo; Sally burst out.
+      She could not reconcile this young man's flabby dependence on his family
+      with the enterprise and vigour which he had shown in his dealings with the
+      unspeakable Scrymgeour. Of course, he had been brought up to look on
+      himself as a rich man's son and appeared to have drifted as such young men
+      are wont to do; but even so... &ldquo;The whole trouble with you,&rdquo; she said,
+      embarking on a subject on which she held strong views, &ldquo;is that...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her harangue was interrupted by what&mdash;at the Normandie, at one
+      o'clock in the morning&mdash;practically amounted to a miracle. The front
+      door of the hotel opened, and there entered a young man in evening dress.
+      Such persons were sufficiently rare at the Normandie, which catered
+      principally for the staid and middle-aged, and this youth's presence was
+      due, if one must pause to explain it, to the fact that, in the middle of
+      his stay at Roville, a disastrous evening at the Casino had so diminished
+      his funds that he had been obliged to make a hurried shift from the Hotel
+      Splendide to the humbler Normandie. His late appearance to-night was
+      caused by the fact that he had been attending a dance at the Splendide,
+      principally in the hope of finding there some kind-hearted friend of his
+      prosperity from whom he might borrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A rapid-fire dialogue having taken place between Jules and the newcomer,
+      the keys were handed through the cage, the door opened and the lift was
+      set once more in motion. And a few minutes later, Sally, suddenly aware of
+      an overpowering sleepiness, had switched off her light and jumped into
+      bed. Her last waking thought was a regret that she had not been able to
+      speak at length to Mr. Ginger Kemp on the subject of enterprise, and
+      resolve that the address should be delivered at the earliest opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III. THE DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By six o'clock on the following evening, however, Sally had been forced to
+      the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through life as best he
+      could without the assistance of her contemplated remarks: for she had seen
+      nothing of him all day and in another hour she would have left Roville on
+      the seven-fifteen express which was to take her to Paris, en route for
+      Cherbourg and the liner whereon she had booked her passage for New York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,
+      having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of an
+      amiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale. She
+      disliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted him. Like
+      so many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a great degree the
+      quality of interesting herself in&mdash;or, as her brother Fillmore
+      preferred to put it, messing about with&mdash;the private affairs of
+      others. Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom it was worth while to
+      give a friendly shove on the right path; and it was with much
+      gratification, therefore, that, having entered the Casino, she perceived a
+      flaming head shining through the crowd which had gathered at one of the
+      roulette-tables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer. The one on the Promenade goes in
+      mostly for sea-air and a mild game called boule. It is the big Casino
+      Municipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway station which is
+      the haunt of the earnest gambler who means business; and it was plain to
+      Sally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not only meant business but
+      was getting results. Ginger was going extremely strong. He was entrenched
+      behind an opulent-looking mound of square counters: and, even as Sally
+      looked, a wooden-faced croupier shoved a further instalment across the
+      table to him at the end of his long rake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Epatant!&rdquo; murmured a wistful man at Sally's side, removing an elbow from
+      her ribs in order the better to gesticulate. Sally, though no French
+      scholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified. The entire crowd
+      seemed to be startled and gratified. There is undoubtedly a certain
+      altruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continental roulette-table.
+      They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeing somebody else win.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheel a
+      twist with his right, and silence fell again. Sally, who had shifted to a
+      spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was now able to see
+      Ginger's face, and as she saw it she gave an involuntary laugh. He looked
+      exactly like a dog at a rat-hole. His hair seemed to bristle with
+      excitement. One could almost fancy that his ears were pricked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of the
+      wheel, Sally's laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness. It had a
+      marked effect on all those within hearing. There is something almost of
+      religious ecstasy in the deportment of the spectators at a table where
+      anyone is having a run of luck at roulette, and if she had guffawed in a
+      cathedral she could not have caused a more pained consternation. The
+      earnest worshippers gazed at her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turning
+      with a start, saw her and jumped up. As he did so, the ball fell with a
+      rattling click into a red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased to
+      revolve and it was seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrong
+      colour, a shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that which
+      convulses the penitents' bench at a negro revival meeting. More glances of
+      reproach were cast at Sally. It was generally felt that her injudicious
+      behaviour had changed Ginger's luck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself. He
+      gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his way to
+      where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of the crowd as
+      a pariah. There was universal regret that he had decided to call it a day.
+      It was to the spectators as though a star had suddenly walked off the
+      stage in the middle of his big scene; and not even a loud and violent
+      quarrel which sprang up at this moment between two excitable gamblers over
+      a disputed five-franc counter could wholly console them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd, &ldquo;this
+      is topping, meeting you like this. I've been looking for you everywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's funny you didn't find me, then, for that's where I've been. I was
+      looking for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, really?&rdquo; Ginger seemed pleased. He led the way to the quiet ante-room
+      outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner. It was pleasant
+      here, with nobody near except the gorgeously uniformed attendant over by
+      the door. &ldquo;That was awfully good of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I felt I must have a talk with you before my train went.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger started violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your train? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The puff-puff,&rdquo; explained Sally. &ldquo;I'm leaving to-night, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leaving?&rdquo; Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of the congregation
+      of which Sally had just ceased to be a member. &ldquo;You don't mean leaving?
+      You're not going away from Roville?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? Where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back to America. My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my aunt!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry,&rdquo; said Sally, touched by his concern. She was a warm-hearted
+      girl and liked being appreciated. &ldquo;But...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say...&rdquo; Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him at the
+      uniformed official, who was regarding their tête-à-tête with the indulgent
+      eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. &ldquo;I say, look
+      here, will you marry me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement. Ginger, she had
+      realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but she
+      had not expected him to be as surprising as this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marry you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know what I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes, I suppose I do. You allude to the holy state. Yes, I know what
+      you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then how about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally began to regain her composure. Her sense of humour was tickled. She
+      looked at Ginger gravely. He did not meet her eye, but continued to drink
+      in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by the romance
+      of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under his breath. The
+      official could not hear what they were saying, and would not have been
+      able to understand it even if he could have heard; but he was an expert in
+      the language of the eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But isn't this&mdash;don't think I am trying to make difficulties&mdash;isn't
+      this a little sudden?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's got to be sudden,&rdquo; said Ginger Kemp, complainingly. &ldquo;I thought you
+      were going to be here for weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practically
+      strangers?&rdquo; She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the uniformed official
+      to heave a tender sigh. &ldquo;I see what has happened,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You're
+      mistaking me for some other girl, some girl you know really well, and were
+      properly introduced to. Take a good look at me, and you'll see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I take a good look at you,&rdquo; said Ginger, feverishly, &ldquo;I'm dashed if
+      I'll answer for the consequences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is the man I was going to lecture on 'Enterprise.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, dash it!&rdquo; said Ginger, his
+      gaze still riveted on the official by the door &ldquo;I dare say it is sudden. I
+      can't help that. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, and there
+      you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, look here, I know I'm not much of a chap and all that, but... well,
+      I've just won the deuce of a lot of money in there...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you buy me with your gold?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I've
+      made an infernal hash of everything I've tried up till now, but there must
+      be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I'd have a goodish stab
+      at it. I mean to say, with you to buck me up and so forth, don't you know.
+      Well, I mean...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, golly! Are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in his
+      eyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out of her.
+      Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am,&rdquo; she said soberly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, that's torn it!&rdquo; he said at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse. There was pity in
+      it, but amusement too. The emotion, though she did not recognize it, was
+      maternal. Mothers, listening to their children pleading with engaging
+      absurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow, feel that
+      same wavering between tears and laughter. Sally wanted to pick Ginger up
+      and kiss him. The one thing she could not do was to look on him, sorry as
+      she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't really mean it, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't I!&rdquo; said Ginger, hollowly. &ldquo;Oh, don't I!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't! There isn't such a thing in real life as love at first sight.
+      Love's a thing that comes when you know a person well and...&rdquo; She paused.
+      It had just occurred to her that she was hardly the girl to lecture in
+      this strain. Her love for Gerald Foster had been sufficiently sudden, even
+      instantaneous. What did she know of Gerald except that she loved him? They
+      had become engaged within two weeks of their first meeting. She found this
+      recollection damping to her eloquence, and ended by saying tamely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ridiculous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway,&rdquo; he said,
+      sombrely. &ldquo;I'm not much of a chap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sally had
+      been longing to find. She welcomed the chance of continuing the
+      conversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,&rdquo; she said, seizing the
+      opportunity offered by this display of humility. &ldquo;I've been looking for
+      you all day to go on with what I was starting to say in the lift last
+      night when we were interrupted. Do you mind if I talk to you like an aunt&mdash;or
+      a sister, suppose we say? Really, the best plan would be for you to adopt
+      me as an honorary sister. What do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I really do take a tremendous interest in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger brightened. &ldquo;That's awfully good of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to speak words of wisdom. Ginger, why don't you brace up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brace up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square your
+      elbows, and really amount to something. Why do you simply flop about and
+      do nothing and leave everything to what you call 'the family'? Why do you
+      have to be helped all the time? Why don't you help yourself? Why do you
+      have to have jobs found for you? Why don't you rush out and get one? Why
+      do you have to worry about what, 'the family' thinks of you? Why don't you
+      make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck, suddenly
+      finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens, everybody
+      else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke at one time or
+      another. It's part of the fun. You'll never get anywhere by letting
+      yourself be picked up by the family like... like a floppy Newfoundland
+      puppy and dumped down in any old place that happens to suit them. A job's
+      a thing you've got to choose for yourself and get for yourself. Think what
+      you can do&mdash;there must be something&mdash;and then go at it with a
+      snort and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take a joke. You've
+      managed to collect some money. It will give you time to look round. And,
+      when you've had a look round, do something! Try to realize you're alive,
+      and try to imagine the family isn't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stopped and drew a deep breath. Ginger Kemp did not reply for a
+      moment. He seemed greatly impressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you talk quick,&rdquo; he said at length, in a serious meditative voice,
+      &ldquo;your nose sort of goes all squiggly. Ripping, it looks!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally uttered an indignant cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say you haven't been listening to a word I've been
+      saying,&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, rather! Oh, by Jove, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what did I say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You... er... And your eyes sort of shine, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind my eyes. What did I say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told me,&rdquo; said Ginger, on reflection, &ldquo;to get a job.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes. I put it much better than that, but that's what it amounted
+      to, I suppose. All right, then. I'm glad you...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger was eyeing her with mournful devotion. &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; he interrupted, &ldquo;I
+      wish you'd let me write to you. Letters, I mean, and all that. I have an
+      idea it would kind of buck me up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't have time for writing letters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll have time to write them to you. You haven't an address or anything
+      of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, so that I'd know
+      where to write to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can give you an address which will always find me.&rdquo; She told him the
+      number and street of Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house, and he wrote them down
+      reverently on his shirt-cuff. &ldquo;Yes, on second thoughts, do write,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;Of course, I shall want to know how you've got on. I... oh, my
+      goodness! That clock's not right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just about. What time does your train go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go! It's gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds.&rdquo; She made a
+      rush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed official who
+      had not been expecting this sudden activity. &ldquo;Good-bye, Ginger. Write to
+      me, and remember what I said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger, alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question of
+      physical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and they emerged
+      together and started running down the square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stick it!&rdquo; said Ginger, encouragingly. He was running easily and well, as
+      becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his international at
+      scrum-half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally saved her breath. The train was beginning to move slowly out of the
+      station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform. Ginger dived for the
+      nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in his arms, and
+      flung her in. She landed squarely on the toes of a man who occupied the
+      corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the window. Ginger,
+      faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train as it gathered speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger! My poor porter! Tip him. I forgot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And don't forget what I've been saying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look after yourself and 'Death to the Family!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The train passed smoothly out of the station. Sally cast one last look
+      back at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving a
+      handkerchief. Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of the
+      carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm so sorry,&rdquo; she said, breathlessly. &ldquo;I hope I didn't hurt you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She found herself facing Ginger's cousin, the dark man of yesterday's
+      episode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed by
+      life's little surprises, but at the present moment he could not help
+      feeling slightly dazed. He recognized Sally now as the French girl who had
+      attracted his cousin Lancelot's notice on the beach. At least he had
+      assumed that she was French, and it was startling to be addressed by her
+      now in fluent English. How had she suddenly acquired this gift of tongues?
+      And how on earth had she had time since yesterday, when he had been a
+      total stranger to her, to become sufficiently intimate with Cousin
+      Lancelot to be sprinting with him down station platforms and addressing
+      him out of railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmyle was aware
+      that most members of that sub-species of humanity, his cousin's personal
+      friends, called him by that familiar&mdash;and, so Carmyle held, vulgar&mdash;nickname:
+      but how had this girl got hold of it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly have looked
+      disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid sense of the
+      proprieties a nasty jar. But as, panting and flushed from her run, she was
+      prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived to smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; he said in answer to her question, though it was far from
+      the truth. His left big toe was aching confoundedly. Even a girl with a
+      foot as small as Sally's can make her presence felt on a man's toe if the
+      scrum-half who is handling her aims well and uses plenty of vigour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't mind,&rdquo; said Sally, sitting down, &ldquo;I think I'll breathe a
+      little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She breathed. The train sped on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite a close thing,&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle, affably. The pain in his toe
+      was diminishing. &ldquo;You nearly missed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me. He throws very straight, doesn't
+      he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Carmyle, &ldquo;how do you come to know my Cousin? On the beach
+      yesterday morning...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we didn't know each other then. But we were staying at the same
+      hotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator together. That
+      was when we really got acquainted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English that
+      dinner was served in the restaurant car. &ldquo;Would you care for dinner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm starving,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, for being
+      so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance. This man was perfectly
+      pleasant in spite of his grim exterior. She had decided by the time they
+      had seated themselves at the table she liked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the table, however, Mr. Carmyle's manner changed for the worse. He lost
+      his amiability. He was evidently a man who took his meals seriously and
+      believed in treating waiters with severity. He shuddered austerely at a
+      stain on the table-cloth, and then concentrated himself frowningly on the
+      bill of fare. Sally, meanwhile, was establishing cosy relations with the
+      much too friendly waiter, a cheerful old man who from the start seemed to
+      have made up his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter. The waiter
+      talked no English and Sally no French, but they were getting along
+      capitally, when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving aside the
+      servitor's light-hearted advice&mdash;at the Hotel Splendide the waiters
+      never bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side of your
+      face&mdash;gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of the
+      travelling Briton. The waiter remarked, &ldquo;Boum!&rdquo; in a pleased sort of way,
+      and vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice old man!&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Infernally familiar!&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did not
+      see eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived from
+      any discussion centring about him. She changed the subject. She was not
+      liking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few minutes ago, but it
+      was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she tried to like him as much
+      as she could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;my name is Nicholas. I always think it's a good
+      thing to start with names, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know yours. Ginger&mdash;Mr. Kemp told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle, who since the waiter's departure, had been thawing, stiffened
+      again at the mention of Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo; he said, coldly. &ldquo;Apparently you got intimate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not like his tone. He seemed to be criticizing her, and she
+      resented criticism from a stranger. Her eyes opened wide and she looked
+      dangerously across the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why 'apparently'? I told you that we had got intimate, and I explained
+      how. You can't stay shut up in an elevator half the night with anybody
+      without getting to know him. I found Mr. Kemp very pleasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And very interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle raised his eyebrows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you call him interesting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did call him interesting.&rdquo; Sally was beginning to feel the exhilaration
+      of battle. Men usually made themselves extremely agreeable to her, and she
+      reacted belligerently under the stiff unfriendliness which had come over
+      her companion in the last few minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me all about himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you found that interesting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo; A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle's dark face.
+      &ldquo;My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt&mdash;he used to play
+      football well, and I understand that he is a capable amateur pugilist&mdash;but
+      I should not have supposed him entertaining. We find him a little dull.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it was only royalty that called themselves 'we.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I meant myself&mdash;and the rest of the family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mention of the family was too much for Sally. She had to stop talking
+      in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour,&rdquo; she went on at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French bread which
+      the waiter had placed on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He has an engaging lack of reticence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;V'la!&rdquo; he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who has successfully
+      performed a difficult conjuring trick. He smiled at Sally expectantly, as
+      though confident of applause from this section of his audience at least.
+      But Sally's face was set and rigid. She had been snubbed, and the
+      sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think Mr. Kemp had hard luck,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle's attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but she was
+      a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not to be
+      discussed with strangers, however prepossessing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was quite in the right. Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've heard the details.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I didn't know that. Well, don't you agree with me, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not. A man who would throw away an excellent position simply
+      because...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, if that's your view, I suppose it is useless to talk about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, there's no harm in asking what you propose to do about Gin&mdash;about
+      Mr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle became more glacial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid I cannot discuss...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got the
+      better of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, for goodness' sake,&rdquo; she snapped, &ldquo;do try to be human, and don't
+      always be snubbing people. You remind me of one of those portraits of men
+      in the eighteenth century, with wooden faces, who look out of heavy gold
+      frames at you with fishy eyes as if you were a regrettable incident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rosbif,&rdquo; said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly beside
+      them as if he had popped up out of a trap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely. Sally who was in the mood
+      when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, but was full
+      of battle at the moment, sat in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, &ldquo;if my eyes are fishy. The
+      fact has not been called to my attention before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you never had any sisters,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;They would have told
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till the
+      waiter had brought the coffee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Sally, getting up, &ldquo;I'll be going now. I don't seem to
+      want any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say something rude. I thought I
+      might be able to put in a good word for Mr. Kemp and save him from being
+      massacred, but apparently it's no use. Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, and thank
+      you for giving me dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle's indignant, yet
+      fascinated, gaze. Strange emotions were stirring in Mr. Carmyle's bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV. GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Some few days later, owing to the fact that the latter, being preoccupied,
+      did not see him first, Bruce Carmyle met his cousin Lancelot in
+      Piccadilly. They had returned by different routes from Roville, and Ginger
+      would have preferred the separation to continue. He was hurrying on with a
+      nod, when Carmyle stopped him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just the man I wanted to see,&rdquo; he observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hullo!&rdquo; said Ginger, without joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of calling at your club.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Cigarette?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger peered at the proffered case with the vague suspicion of the man
+      who has allowed himself to be lured on to the platform and is accepting a
+      card from the conjurer. He felt bewildered. In all the years of their
+      acquaintance he could not recall another such exhibition of geniality on
+      his cousin's part. He was surprised, indeed, at Mr. Carmyle's speaking to
+      him at all, for the affaire Scrymgeour remained an un-healed wound, and
+      the Family, Ginger knew, were even now in session upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Been back in London long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard quite by accident that you had returned and that you were staying
+      at the club. By the way, thank you for introducing me to Miss Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger started violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was in that compartment, you know, at Roville Station. You threw her
+      right on top of me. We agreed to consider that an introduction. An
+      attractive girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle had not entirely made up his mind regarding Sally, but on
+      one point he was clear, that she should not, if he could help it, pass out
+      of his life. Her abrupt departure had left him with that baffled and
+      dissatisfied feeling which, though it has little in common with love at
+      first sight, frequently produces the same effects. She had had, he could
+      not disguise it from himself, the better of their late encounter and he
+      was conscious of a desire to meet her again and show her that there was
+      more in him than she apparently supposed. Bruce Carmyle, in a word, was
+      piqued: and, though he could not quite decide whether he liked or disliked
+      Sally, he was very sure that a future without her would have an element of
+      flatness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very attractive girl. We had a very pleasant talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bet you did,&rdquo; said Ginger enviously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; said Ginger suspiciously. His attitude towards Sally's address
+      resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique work of
+      art. He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&mdash;er&mdash;I promised to send her some books she was anxious
+      to read...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't think she gets much time for reading.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Books which are not published in America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to be,
+      I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, these particular books are not,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle shortly. He was
+      finding Ginger's reserve a little trying, and wished that he had been more
+      inventive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give them to me and I'll send them to her,&rdquo; suggested Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord, man!&rdquo; snapped Mr. Carmyle. &ldquo;I'm capable of sending a few books
+      to America. Where does she live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger revealed the sacred number of the holy street which had the luck to
+      be Sally's headquarters. He did it because with a persistent devil like
+      his cousin there seemed no way of getting out of it: but he did it
+      grudgingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo; Bruce Carmyle wrote the information down with a gold pencil in a
+      dapper little morocco-bound note-book. He was the sort of man who always
+      has a pencil, and the backs of old envelopes never enter into his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. Bruce Carmyle coughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw Uncle Donald this morning,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His manner had lost its geniality. There was no need for it now, and he
+      was a man who objected to waste. He spoke coldly, and in his voice there
+      was a familiar sub-tingle of reproof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; said Ginger moodily. This was the uncle in whose office he had made
+      his debut as a hasher: a worthy man, highly respected in the National
+      Liberal Club, but never a favourite of Ginger's. There were other minor
+      uncles and a few subsidiary aunts who went to make up the Family, but
+      Uncle Donald was unquestionably the managing director of that body and it
+      was Ginger's considered opinion that in this capacity he approximated to a
+      human blister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wants you to dine with him to-night at Bleke's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's depression deepened. A dinner with Uncle Donald would hardly have
+      been a cheerful function, even in the surroundings of a banquet in the
+      Arabian Nights. There was that about Uncle Donald's personality which
+      would have cast a sobering influence over the orgies of the Emperor
+      Tiberius at Capri. To dine with him at a morgue like that relic of Old
+      London, Bleke's Coffee House, which confined its custom principally to
+      regular patrons who had not missed an evening there for half a century,
+      was to touch something very near bed-rock. Ginger was extremely doubtful
+      whether flesh and blood were equal to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-night?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Oh, you mean to-night? Well...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be a fool. You know as well as I do that you've got to go.&rdquo; Uncle
+      Donald's invitations were royal commands in the Family. &ldquo;If you've another
+      engagement you must put it off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Seven-thirty sharp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Ginger gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men went their ways, Bruce Carmyle eastwards because he had
+      clients to see in his chambers at the Temple; Ginger westwards because Mr.
+      Carmyle had gone east. There was little sympathy between these cousins:
+      yet, oddly enough, their thoughts as they walked centred on the same
+      object. Bruce Carmyle, threading his way briskly through the crowds of
+      Piccadilly Circus, was thinking of Sally: and so was Ginger as he loafed
+      aimlessly towards Hyde Park Corner, bumping in a sort of coma from
+      pedestrian to pedestrian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since his return to London Ginger had been in bad shape. He mooned through
+      the days and slept poorly at night. If there is one thing rottener than
+      another in a pretty blighted world, one thing which gives a fellow the pip
+      and reduces him to the condition of an absolute onion, it is hopeless
+      love. Hopeless love had got Ginger all stirred up. His had been hitherto a
+      placid soul. Even the financial crash which had so altered his life had
+      not bruised him very deeply. His temperament had enabled him to bear the
+      slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with a philosophic &ldquo;Right ho!&rdquo; But
+      now everything seemed different. Things irritated him acutely, which
+      before he had accepted as inevitable&mdash;his Uncle Donald's moustache,
+      for instance, and its owner's habit of employing it during meals as a sort
+      of zareba or earthwork against the assaults of soup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By gad!&rdquo; thought Ginger, stopping suddenly opposite Devonshire House. &ldquo;If
+      he uses that damned shrubbery as soup-strainer to-night, I'll slosh him
+      with a fork!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hard thoughts... hard thoughts! And getting harder all the time, for
+      nothing grows more quickly than a mood of rebellion. Rebellion is a forest
+      fire that flames across the soul. The spark had been lighted in Ginger,
+      and long before he reached Hyde Park Corner he was ablaze and crackling.
+      By the time he returned to his club he was practically a menace to society&mdash;to
+      that section of it, at any rate, which embraced his Uncle Donald, his
+      minor uncles George and William, and his aunts Mary, Geraldine, and
+      Louise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor had the mood passed when he began to dress for the dismal festivities
+      of Bleke's Coffee House. He scowled as he struggled morosely with an
+      obstinate tie. One cannot disguise the fact&mdash;Ginger was warming up.
+      And it was just at this moment that Fate, as though it had been waiting
+      for the psychological instant, applied the finishing touch. There was a
+      knock at the door, and a waiter came in with a telegram.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger looked at the envelope. It had been readdressed and forwarded on
+      from the Hotel Normandie. It was a wireless, handed in on board the White
+      Star liner Olympic, and it ran as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Remember. Death to the Family. S.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger sat down heavily on the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The driver of the taxi-cab which at twenty-five minutes past seven drew up
+      at the dingy door of Bleke's Coffee House in the Strand was rather struck
+      by his fare's manner and appearance. A determined-looking sort of young
+      bloke, was the taxi-driver's verdict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V. SALLY HEARS NEWS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It had been Sally's intention, on arriving in New York, to take a room at
+      the St. Regis and revel in the gilded luxury to which her wealth entitled
+      her before moving into the small but comfortable apartment which, as soon
+      as she had the time, she intended to find and make her permanent abode.
+      But when the moment came and she was giving directions to the taxi-driver
+      at the dock, there seemed to her something revoltingly Fillmorian about
+      the scheme. It would be time enough to sever herself from the
+      boarding-house which had been her home for three years when she had found
+      the apartment. Meanwhile, the decent thing to do, if she did not want to
+      brand herself in the sight of her conscience as a female Fillmore, was to
+      go back temporarily to Mrs. Meecher's admirable establishment and
+      foregather with her old friends. After all, home is where the heart is,
+      even if there are more prunes there than the gourmet would consider
+      judicious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it was the unavoidable complacency induced by the thought that she
+      was doing the right thing, or possibly it was the tingling expectation of
+      meeting Gerald Foster again after all these weeks of separation, that made
+      the familiar streets seem wonderfully bright as she drove through them. It
+      was a perfect, crisp New York morning, all blue sky and amber sunshine,
+      and even the ash-cans had a stimulating look about them. The street cars
+      were full of happy people rollicking off to work: policemen directed the
+      traffic with jaunty affability: and the white-clad street-cleaners went
+      about their poetic tasks with a quiet but none the less noticeable relish.
+      It was improbable that any of these people knew that she was back, but
+      somehow they all seemed to be behaving as though this were a special day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first discordant note in this overture of happiness was struck by Mrs.
+      Meecher, who informed Sally, after expressing her gratification at the
+      news that she required her old room, that Gerald Foster had left town that
+      morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to Detroit, he has,&rdquo; said Mrs. Meecher. &ldquo;Miss Doland, too.&rdquo; She
+      broke off to speak a caustic word to the boarding-house handyman, who,
+      with Sally's trunk as a weapon, was depreciating the value of the
+      wall-paper in the hall. &ldquo;There's that play of his being tried out there,
+      you know, Monday,&rdquo; resumed Mrs. Meecher, after the handyman had bumped his
+      way up the staircase. &ldquo;They been rehearsing ever since you left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was disappointed, but it was such a beautiful morning, and New York
+      was so wonderful after the dull voyage in the liner that she was not going
+      to allow herself to be depressed without good reason. After all, she could
+      go on to Detroit tomorrow. It was nice to have something to which she
+      could look forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is Elsa in the company?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. And very good too, I hear.&rdquo; Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of theatrical
+      gossip. She was an ex-member of the profession herself, having been in the
+      first production of &ldquo;Florodora,&rdquo; though, unlike everybody else, not one of
+      the original Sextette. &ldquo;Mr. Faucitt was down to see a rehearsal, and he
+      said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy to please, as you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is Mr. Faucitt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
+      tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
+      Sally's uplifted mood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor old gentleman, he ain't over and above well. Went to bed early last
+      night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he don't
+      look well. There's a lot of this Spanish influenza about. It might be
+      that. Lots o' people have been dying of it, if you believe what you see in
+      the papers,&rdquo; said Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good gracious! You don't think...?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he ain't turned black,&rdquo; admitted Mrs. Meecher with regret. &ldquo;They
+      say they turn black. If you believe what you see in the papers, that is.
+      Of course, that may come later,&rdquo; she added with the air of one confident
+      that all will come right in the future. &ldquo;The doctor'll be in to see him
+      pretty soon. He's quite happy. Toto's sitting with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's concern increased. Like everyone who had ever spent any length of
+      time in the house, she had strong views on Toto. This quadruped, who
+      stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a small
+      woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to bear with
+      equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range of a sick man.
+      Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt. Mrs. Meecher, on the other hand, who held
+      a faith in her little pet's amiability and power to soothe which seven
+      years' close association had been unable to shake, seemed to feel that,
+      with Toto on the spot, all that could be done had been done as far as
+      pampering the invalid was concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go up and see him,&rdquo; cried Sally. &ldquo;Poor old dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. You know his room. You can hear Toto talking to him now,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Meecher complacently. &ldquo;He wants a cracker, that's what he wants. Toto
+      likes a cracker after breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The invalid's eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to the door.
+      At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous rapture. Almost any
+      intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at that moment, for his little
+      playmate had long outstayed any welcome that might originally have been
+      his: but that the caller should be his beloved Sally seemed to the old man
+      something in the nature of a return of the age of miracles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One moment. Here, Toto!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Toto, struck momentarily dumb by the sight of food, had jumped off the bed
+      and was standing with his head on one side, peering questioningly at the
+      cracker. He was a suspicious dog, but he allowed himself to be lured into
+      the passage, upon which Sally threw the cracker down and slipped in and
+      shut the door. Toto, after a couple of yaps, which may have been gratitude
+      or baffled fury, trotted off downstairs, and Mr. Faucitt drew a deep
+      breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally, you come, as ever, as an angel of mercy. Our worthy Mrs. Meecher
+      means well, and I yield to no man in my respect for her innate kindness of
+      heart: but she errs in supposing that that thrice-damned whelp of hers is
+      a combination of sick-nurse, soothing medicine, and a week at the seaside.
+      She insisted on bringing him here. He was yapping then, as he was yapping
+      when, with womanly resource which I cannot sufficiently praise, you
+      decoyed him hence. And each yap went through me like hammer-strokes on
+      sheeted tin. Sally, you stand alone among womankind. You shine like a good
+      deed in a naughty world. When did you get back?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've only just arrived in my hired barouche from the pier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you came to see your old friend without delay? I am grateful and
+      flattered. Sally, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I came to see you. Do you suppose that, when Mrs. Meecher told
+      me you were sick, I just said 'Is that so?' and went on talking about the
+      weather? Well, what do you mean by it? Frightening everybody. Poor old
+      darling, do you feel very bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One thousand individual mice are nibbling the base of my spine, and I am
+      conscious of a constant need of cooling refreshment. But what of that?
+      Your presence is a tonic. Tell me, how did our Sally enjoy foreign
+      travel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our Sally had the time of her life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you visit England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only passing through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it look?&rdquo; asked Mr. Faucitt eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Moist. Very moist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt indulgently. &ldquo;I confess that, happy as I have
+      been in this country, there are times when I miss those wonderful London
+      days, when a sort of cosy brown mist hangs over the streets and the
+      pavements ooze with a perspiration of mud and water, and you see through
+      the haze the yellow glow of the Bodega lamps shining in the distance like
+      harbour-lights. Not,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, &ldquo;that I specify the Bodega to the
+      exclusion of other and equally worthy hostelries. I have passed just as
+      pleasant hours in Rule's and Short's. You missed something by not
+      lingering in England, Sally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know I did&mdash;pneumonia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Faucitt shook his head reproachfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are prejudiced, my dear. You would have enjoyed London if you had had
+      the courage to brave its superficial gloom. Where did you spend your
+      holiday? Paris?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Part of the time. And the rest of the while I was down by the sea. It was
+      glorious. I don't think I would ever have come back if I hadn't had to.
+      But, of course, I wanted to see you all again. And I wanted to be at the
+      opening of Mr. Foster's play. Mrs. Meecher tells me you went to one of the
+      rehearsals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Faucitt severely. &ldquo;There is no rehearsing nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear! Was it as bad as all that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The play is good. The play&mdash;I will go further&mdash;is excellent. It
+      has fat. But the acting...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our worthy hostess did not misreport me. Miss Doland has great
+      possibilities. She reminds me somewhat of Matilda Devine, under whose
+      banner I played a season at the Old Royalty in London many years ago. She
+      has the seeds of greatness in her, but she is wasted in the present case
+      on an insignificant part. There is only one part in the play. I allude to
+      the one murdered by Miss Mabel Hobson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Murdered!&rdquo; Sally's heart sank. She had been afraid of this, and it was no
+      satisfaction to feel that she had warned Gerald. &ldquo;Is she very terrible?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has the face of an angel and the histrionic ability of that curious
+      suet pudding which our estimable Mrs. Meecher is apt to give us on
+      Fridays. In my professional career I have seen many cases of what I may
+      term the Lady Friend in the role of star, but Miss Hobson eclipses them
+      all. I remember in the year '94 a certain scion of the plutocracy took it
+      into his head to present a female for whom he had conceived an admiration
+      in a part which would have taxed the resources of the ablest. I was
+      engaged in her support, and at the first rehearsal I recollect saying to
+      my dear old friend, Arthur Moseby&mdash;dead, alas, these many years. An
+      excellent juvenile, but, like so many good fellows, cursed with a tendency
+      to lift the elbow&mdash;I recollect saying to him 'Arthur, dear boy, I
+      give it two weeks.' 'Max,' was his reply, 'you are an incurable optimist.
+      One consecutive night, laddie, one consecutive night.' We had, I recall,
+      an even half-crown upon it. He won. We opened at Wigan, our leading lady
+      got the bird, and the show closed next day. I was forcibly reminded of
+      this incident as I watched Miss Hobson rehearsing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor Ger&mdash;poor Mr. Foster!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not share your commiseration for that young man,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt
+      austerely. &ldquo;You probably are almost a stranger to him, but he and I have
+      been thrown together a good deal of late. A young man upon whom, mark my
+      words, success, if it ever comes, will have the worst effects. I dislike
+      him. Sally. He is, I think, without exception, the most selfish and
+      self-centred young man of my acquaintance. He reminds me very much of old
+      Billy Fothergill, with whom I toured a good deal in the later eighties.
+      Did I ever tell you the story of Billy and the amateur who...?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was in no mood to listen to the adventures of Mr. Fothergill. The
+      old man's innocent criticism of Gerald had stabbed her deeply. A momentary
+      impulse to speak hotly in his defence died away as she saw Mr. Faucitt's
+      pale, worn old face. He had meant no harm, after all. How could he know
+      what Gerald was to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She changed the conversation abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen anything of Fillmore while I've been away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore? Why yes, my dear, curiously enough I happened to run into him
+      on Broadway only a few days ago. He seemed changed&mdash;less stiff and
+      aloof than he had been for some time past. I may be wronging him, but
+      there have been times of late when one might almost have fancied him a
+      trifle up-stage. All that was gone at our last encounter. He appeared glad
+      to see me and was most cordial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally found her composure restored. Her lecture on the night of the party
+      had evidently, she thought, not been wasted. Mr. Faucitt, however,
+      advanced another theory to account for the change in the Man of Destiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I rather fancy,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that the softening influence has been the
+      young man's fiancée.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? Fillmore's not engaged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he not write and tell you? I suppose he was waiting to inform you
+      when you returned. Yes, Fillmore is betrothed. The lady was with him when
+      we met. A Miss Winch. In the profession, I understand. He introduced me. A
+      very charming and sensible young lady, I thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She can't be. Fillmore would never have got engaged to anyone like that.
+      Was her hair crimson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brown, if I recollect rightly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very loud, I suppose, and overdressed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, neat and quiet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've made a mistake,&rdquo; said Sally decidedly. &ldquo;She can't have been like
+      that. I shall have to look into this. It does seem hard that I can't go
+      away for a few weeks without all my friends taking to beds of sickness and
+      all my brothers getting ensnared by vampires.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A knock at the door interrupted her complaint. Mrs. Meecher entered,
+      ushering in a pleasant little man with spectacles and black bag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor to see you, Mr. Faucitt.&rdquo; Mrs. Meecher cast an appraising eye
+      at the invalid, as if to detect symptoms of approaching discoloration.
+      &ldquo;I've been telling him that what I think you've gotten is this here new
+      Spanish influenza. Two more deaths there were in the paper this morning,
+      if you can believe what you see...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;if you would mind going and bringing me a
+      small glass of water?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a large glass&mdash;a small glass. Just let the tap run for a few
+      moments and take care not to spill any as you come up the stairs. I always
+      ask ladies, like our friend who has just gone,&rdquo; he added as the door
+      closed, &ldquo;to bring me a glass of water. It keeps them amused and interested
+      and gets them out of the way, and they think I am going to do a conjuring
+      trick with it. As a matter of fact, I'm going to drink it. Now let's have
+      a look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The examination did not take long. At the end of it the doctor seemed
+      somewhat chagrined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our good friend's diagnosis was correct. I'd give a leg to say it wasn't,
+      but it was. It is this here new Spanish influenza. Not a bad attack. You
+      want to stay in bed and keep warm, and I'll write you out a prescription.
+      You ought to be nursed. Is this young lady a nurse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, merely...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I'm a nurse,&rdquo; said Sally decidedly. &ldquo;It isn't difficult, is it,
+      doctor? I know nurses smooth pillows. I can do that. Is there anything
+      else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their principal duty is to sit here and prevent the excellent and
+      garrulous lady who has just left us from getting in. They must also be
+      able to aim straight with a book or an old shoe, if that small woolly dog
+      I met downstairs tries to force an entrance. If you are equal to these
+      tasks, I can leave the case in your hands with every confidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Sally, my dear,&rdquo; said Mr. Faucitt, concerned, &ldquo;you must not waste
+      your time looking after me. You have a thousand things to occupy you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nothing I want to do more than help you to get better. I'll just
+      go out and send a wire, and then I'll be right back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes later, Sally was in a Western Union office, telegraphing to
+      Gerald that she would be unable to reach Detroit in time for the opening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI. FIRST AID FOR FILLMORE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not till the following Friday that Sally was able to start for
+      Detroit. She arrived on the Saturday morning and drove to the Hotel
+      Statler. Having ascertained that Gerald was stopping in the hotel and
+      having 'phoned up to his room to tell him to join her, she went into the
+      dining-room and ordered breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt low-spirited as she waited for the food to arrive. The nursing of
+      Mr. Faucitt had left her tired, and she had not slept well on the train.
+      But the real cause of her depression was the fact that there had been a
+      lack of enthusiasm in Gerald's greeting over the telephone just now. He
+      had spoken listlessly, as though the fact of her returning after all these
+      weeks was a matter of no account, and she felt hurt and perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cup of coffee had a stimulating effect. Men, of course, were always like
+      this in the early morning. It would, no doubt, be a very different Gerald
+      who would presently bound into the dining-room, quickened and restored by
+      a cold shower-bath. In the meantime, here was food, and she needed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was pouring out her second cup of coffee when a stout young man, of
+      whom she had caught a glimpse as he moved about that section of the hotel
+      lobby which was visible through the open door of the dining-room, came in
+      and stood peering about as though in search of someone. The momentary
+      sight she had had of this young man had interested Sally. She had thought
+      how extraordinarily like he was to her brother Fillmore. Now she perceived
+      that it was Fillmore himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was puzzled. What could Fillmore be doing so far west? She had
+      supposed him to be a permanent resident of New York. But, of course, your
+      man of affairs and vast interests flits about all over the place. At any
+      rate, here he was, and she called him. And, after he had stood in the
+      doorway looking in every direction except the right one for another
+      minute, he saw her and came over to her table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Sally?&rdquo; His manner, she thought, was nervous&mdash;one might almost
+      have said embarrassed. She attributed this to a guilty conscience.
+      Presently he would have to break to her the news that he had become
+      engaged to be married without her sisterly sanction, and no doubt he was
+      wondering how to begin. &ldquo;What are you doing here? I thought you were in
+      Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got back a week ago, but I've been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt ever
+      since then. He's been ill, poor old dear. I've come here to see Mr.
+      Foster's play, 'The Primrose Way,' you know. Is it a success?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It hasn't opened yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be silly, Fill. Do pull yourself together. It opened last Monday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it didn't. Haven't you heard? They've closed all the theatres because
+      of this infernal Spanish influenza. Nothing has been playing this week.
+      You must have seen it in the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't had time to read the papers. Oh, Fill, what an awful shame!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it's pretty tough. Makes the company all on edge. I've had the
+      darndest time, I can tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what have you got to do with it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore coughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;er&mdash;oh, I didn't tell you that. I'm sort of&mdash;er&mdash;mixed
+      up in the show. Cracknell&mdash;you remember he was at college with me&mdash;suggested
+      that I should come down and look at it. Shouldn't wonder if he wants me to
+      put money into it and so on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought he had all the money in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
+      thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a good thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The play's fine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what Mr. Faucitt said. But Mabel Hobson...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's ample face registered emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's an awful woman, Sally! She can't act, and she throws her weight
+      about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a paper-knife...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of the props, you know. It got mislaid. I'm certain it wasn't my
+      fault...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could it have been your fault?&rdquo; asked Sally wonderingly. Love seemed
+      to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;er&mdash;you know how it is. Angry woman... blames the first
+      person she sees... This paper-knife...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's voice trailed off into pained silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she's all right,&rdquo; said Fillmore indifferently. &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo; His face
+      brightened and animation crept into his voice. &ldquo;But the girl you want to
+      watch is Miss Winch. Gladys Winch. She plays the maid. She's only in the
+      first act, and hasn't much to say, except 'Did you ring, madam?' and
+      things like that. But it's the way she says 'em! Sally, that girl's a
+      genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark my
+      words, in a darned little while you'll see her name up on Broadway in
+      electric light. Personality? Ask me! Charm? She wrote the words and music!
+      Looks?...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right! All right! I know all about it, Fill. And will you kindly
+      inform me how you dared to get engaged without consulting me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore blushed richly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Mr. Faucitt told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm only human,&rdquo; argued Fillmore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I call that a very handsome admission. You've got quite modest, Fill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had certainly changed for the better since their last meeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as if someone had punctured him and let out all the pomposity. If
+      this was due, as Mr. Faucitt had suggested, to the influence of Miss
+      Winch, Sally felt that she could not but approve of the romance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll introduce you sometime,' said Fillmore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to meet her very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll have to be going now. I've got to see Bunbury. I thought he might be
+      in here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's Bunbury?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The producer. I suppose he is breakfasting in his room. I'd better go
+      up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are busy, aren't you. Little marvel! It's lucky they've got you to
+      look after them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore retired and Sally settled down to wait for Gerald, no longer hurt
+      by his manner over the telephone. Poor Gerald! No wonder he had seemed
+      upset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes later he came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Jerry darling,&rdquo; said Sally, as he reached the table, &ldquo;I'm so sorry.
+      I've just been hearing about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald sat down. His appearance fulfilled the promise of his voice over
+      the telephone. A sort of nervous dullness wrapped him about like a
+      garment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's just my luck,&rdquo; he said gloomily. &ldquo;It's the kind of thing that
+      couldn't happen to anyone but me. Damned fools! Where's the sense in
+      shutting the theatres, even if there is influenza about? They let people
+      jam against one another all day in the stores. If that doesn't hurt them
+      why should it hurt them to go to theatres? Besides, it's all infernal
+      nonsense about this thing. I don't believe there is such a thing as
+      Spanish influenza. People get colds in their heads and think they're
+      dying. It's all a fake scare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think it's that,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;Poor Mr. Faucitt had it quite
+      badly. That's why I couldn't come earlier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald did not seem interested either by the news of Mr. Faucitt's illness
+      or by the fact that Sally, after delay, had at last arrived. He dug a
+      spoon sombrely into his grape-fruit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've been hanging about here day after day, getting bored to death all
+      the time... The company's going all to pieces. They're sick of rehearsing
+      and rehearsing when nobody knows if we'll ever open. They were all keyed
+      up a week ago, and they've been sagging ever since. It will ruin the play,
+      of course. My first chance! Just chucked away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was listening with a growing feeling of desolation. She tried to be
+      fair, to remember that he had had a terrible disappointment and was under
+      a great strain. And yet... it was unfortunate that self-pity was a thing
+      she particularly disliked in a man. Her vanity, too, was hurt. It was
+      obvious that her arrival, so far from acting as a magic restorative, had
+      effected nothing. She could not help remembering, though it made her feel
+      disloyal, what Mr. Faucitt had said about Gerald. She had never noticed
+      before that he was remarkably self-centred, but he was thrusting the fact
+      upon her attention now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Hobson woman is beginning to make trouble,&rdquo; went on Gerald, prodding
+      in a despairing sort of way at scrambled eggs. &ldquo;She ought never to have
+      had the part, never. She can't handle it. Elsa Doland could play it a
+      thousand times better. I wrote Elsa in a few lines the other day, and the
+      Hobson woman went right up in the air. You don't know what a star is till
+      you've seen one of these promoted clothes-props from the Follies trying to
+      be one. It took me an hour to talk her round and keep her from throwing up
+      her part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not let her throw up her part?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven's sake talk sense,&rdquo; said Gerald querulously. &ldquo;Do you suppose
+      that man Cracknell would keep the play on if she wasn't in it? He would
+      close the show in a second, and where would I be then? You don't seem to
+      realize that this is a big chance for me. I'd look a fool throwing it
+      away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Sally, shortly. She had never felt so wretched in her life.
+      Foreign travel, she decided, was a mistake. It might be pleasant and
+      broadening to the mind, but it seemed to put you so out of touch with
+      people when you got back. She analysed her sensations, and arrived at the
+      conclusion that what she was resenting was the fact that Gerald was trying
+      to get the advantages of two attitudes simultaneously. A man in trouble
+      may either be the captain of his soul and superior to pity, or he may be a
+      broken thing for a woman to pet and comfort. Gerald, it seemed to her, was
+      advertising himself as an object for her commiseration, and at the same
+      time raising a barrier against it. He appeared to demand her sympathy
+      while holding himself aloof from it. She had the uncomfortable sensation
+      of feeling herself shut out and useless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said Gerald, &ldquo;there's one thing. I have to keep her jollying
+      along all the time, so for goodness' sake don't go letting it out that
+      we're engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's chin went up with a jerk. This was too much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you find it a handicap being engaged to me...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be silly.&rdquo; Gerald took refuge in pathos. &ldquo;Good God! It's tough!
+      Here am I, worried to death, and you...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before he could finish the sentence, Sally's mood had undergone one of
+      those swift changes which sometimes made her feel that she must be lacking
+      in character. A simple, comforting thought had come to her, altering her
+      entire outlook. She had come off the train tired and gritty, and what
+      seemed the general out-of-jointness of the world was entirely due, she
+      decided, to the fact that she had not had a bath and that her hair was all
+      anyhow. She felt suddenly tranquil. If it was merely her grubby and
+      dishevelled condition that made Gerald seem to her so different, all was
+      well. She put her hand on his with a quick gesture of penitence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm so sorry,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I've been a brute, but I do sympathize,
+      really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've had an awful time,&rdquo; mumbled Gerald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know, I know. But you never told me you were glad to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I'm glad to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you say so, then, you poor fish? And why didn't you ask me if
+      I had enjoyed myself in Europe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you enjoy yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, except that I missed you so much. There! Now we can consider my
+      lecture on foreign travel finished, and you can go on telling me your
+      troubles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald accepted the invitation. He spoke at considerable length, though
+      with little variety. It appeared definitely established in his mind that
+      Providence had invented Spanish influenza purely with a view to wrecking
+      his future. But now he seemed less aloof, more open to sympathy. The brief
+      thunderstorm had cleared the air. Sally lost that sense of detachment and
+      exclusion which had weighed upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Gerald, at length, looking at his watch, &ldquo;I suppose I had
+      better be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rehearsal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, confound it. It's the only way of getting through the day. Are you
+      coming along?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come directly I've unpacked and tidied myself up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See you at the theatre, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally went out and rang for the lift to take her up to her room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rehearsal had started when she reached the theatre. As she entered the
+      dark auditorium, voices came to her with that thin and reedy effect which
+      is produced by people talking in an empty building. She sat down at the
+      back of the house, and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, was able
+      to see Gerald sitting in the front row beside a man with a bald head
+      fringed with orange hair whom she took correctly to be Mr. Bunbury, the
+      producer. Dotted about the house in ones and twos were members of the
+      company whose presence was not required in the first act. On the stage,
+      Elsa Doland, looking very attractive, was playing a scene with a man in a
+      bowler hat. She was speaking a line, as Sally came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what do you mean, father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tiddly-omty-om,&rdquo; was the bowler-hatted one's surprising reply.
+      &ldquo;Tiddly-omty-om... long speech ending in 'find me in the library.' And
+      exit,&rdquo; said the man in the bowler hat, starting to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time Sally became aware of the atmosphere of nerves. Mr.
+      Bunbury, who seemed to be a man of temperament, picked up his
+      walking-stick, which was leaning against the next seat, and flung it with
+      some violence across the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For God's sake!&rdquo; said Mr. Bunbury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now what?&rdquo; inquired the bowler hat, interested, pausing hallway across
+      the stage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do speak the lines, Teddy,&rdquo; exclaimed Gerald. &ldquo;Don't skip them in that
+      sloppy fashion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't want me to go over the whole thing?&rdquo; asked the bowler hat,
+      amazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the whole damn thing?&rdquo; queried the bowler hat, fighting with
+      incredulity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a rehearsal,&rdquo; snapped Mr. Bunbury. &ldquo;If we are not going to do it
+      properly, what's the use of doing it at all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This seemed to strike the erring Teddy, if not as reasonable, at any rate
+      as one way of looking at it. He delivered the speech in an injured tone
+      and shuffled off. The atmosphere of tenseness was unmistakable now. Sally
+      could feel it. The world of the theatre is simply a large nursery and its
+      inhabitants children who readily become fretful if anything goes wrong.
+      The waiting and the uncertainty, the loafing about in strange hotels in a
+      strange city, the dreary rehearsing of lines which had been polished to
+      the last syllable more than a week ago&mdash;these things had sapped the
+      nerve of the Primrose Way company and demoralization had set in. It would
+      require only a trifle to produce an explosion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a magazine
+      from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights. A moment later,
+      in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be greeted instantly by
+      an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Winch!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
+      pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of genial
+      indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse the children.
+      She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking girl with a serious
+      face, the gravity of which was contradicted by the faint smile that seemed
+      to lurk about the corner of her mouth. She was certainly not pretty, and
+      Sally, watching her with keen interest, was surprised that Fillmore had
+      had the sense to disregard surface homeliness and recognize her charm.
+      Deep down in Fillmore, Sally decided, there must lurk an unsuspected vein
+      of intelligence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello?&rdquo; said Miss Winch, amiably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum during
+      rehearsal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right, so you did,&rdquo; admitted Miss Winch, chummily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why are you doing it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's fiancée revolved the criticized refreshment about her tongue
+      for a moment before replying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bit o' business,&rdquo; she announced, at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean, a bit of business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Character stuff,&rdquo; explained Miss Winch in her pleasant, drawling voice.
+      &ldquo;Thought it out myself. Maids chew gum, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bunbury ruffled his orange hair in an over-wrought manner with the
+      palm of his right hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever seen a maid?&rdquo; he asked, despairingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. And they chew gum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean a parlour-maid in a smart house,&rdquo; moaned Mr. Bunbury. &ldquo;Do you
+      imagine for a moment that in a house such as this is supposed to be the
+      parlour-maid would be allowed to come into the drawing-room champing that
+      disgusting, beastly stuff?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Winch considered the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe you're right.&rdquo; She brightened. &ldquo;Listen! Great idea! Mr. Foster can
+      write in a line for Elsa, calling me down, and another giving me a good
+      come-back, and then another for Elsa saying something else, and then
+      something really funny for me, and so on. We can work it up into a big
+      comic scene. Five or six minutes, all laughs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This ingenious suggestion had the effect of depriving the producer
+      momentarily of speech, and while he was struggling for utterance, there
+      dashed out from the wings a gorgeous being in blue velvet and a hat of
+      such unimpeachable smartness that Sally ached at the sight of it with a
+      spasm of pure envy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which nature
+      can bestow with the exception of a musical voice. Her figure was perfect,
+      her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but her voice in
+      moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, listen to me for just one moment!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bunbury recovered from his trance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hobson! Please!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that's all very well...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are interrupting the rehearsal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bet your sorrowful existence I'm interrupting the rehearsal,&rdquo; agreed
+      Miss Hobson, with emphasis. &ldquo;And, if you want to make a little easy money,
+      you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I'm going to interrupt it again
+      every time there's any talk of writing up any darned part in the show
+      except mine. Write up other people's parts? Not while I have my strength!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings in
+      close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, sweetie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, can it, Reggie!&rdquo; said Miss Hobson, curtly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Cracknell obediently canned it. He was not one of your brutal
+      cave-men. He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began to chew
+      the knob of his stick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm the star,&rdquo; resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, &ldquo;and, if you think
+      anybody else's part's going to be written up... well, pardon me while I
+      choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable is written into anybody's
+      part, I walk straight out on my two feet. You won't see me go, I'll be so
+      quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven's sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating society? Miss
+      Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody's part. Now are you
+      satisfied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She said...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind,&rdquo; observed Miss Winch, equably. &ldquo;It was only a random
+      thought. Working for the good of the show all the time. That's me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, sweetie!&rdquo; pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like a
+      tortoise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, that's all right, then. But don't forget I know how to look
+      after myself,&rdquo; she said, stating a fact which was abundantly obvious to
+      all who had had the privilege of listening to her. &ldquo;Any raw work, and out
+      I walk so quick it'll make you giddy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I say my big speech now?&rdquo; inquired Miss Winch, over the footlights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes! Get on with the rehearsal. We've wasted half the morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ring, madam?&rdquo; said Miss Winch to Elsa, who had been reading her
+      magazine placidly through the late scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rehearsal proceeded, and Sally watched it with a sinking heart. It was
+      all wrong. Novice as she was in things theatrical, she could see that.
+      There was no doubt that Miss Hobson was superbly beautiful and would have
+      shed lustre on any part which involved the minimum of words and the
+      maximum of clothes: but in the pivotal role of a serious play, her very
+      physical attributes only served to emphasize and point her hopeless
+      incapacity. Sally remembered Mr. Faucitt's story of the lady who got the
+      bird at Wigan. She did not see how history could fail to repeat itself.
+      The theatrical public of America will endure much from youth and beauty,
+      but there is a limit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A shrill, passionate cry from the front row, and Mr. Bunbury was on his
+      feet again. Sally could not help wondering whether things were going
+      particularly wrong to-day, or whether this was one of Mr. Bunbury's
+      ordinary mornings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hobson!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The action of the drama had just brought that emotional lady on left
+      centre and had taken her across to the desk which stood on the other side
+      of the stage. The desk was an important feature of the play, for it
+      symbolized the absorption in business which, exhibited by her husband, was
+      rapidly breaking Miss Hobson's heart. He loved his desk better than his
+      young wife, that was what it amounted to, and no wife can stand that sort
+      of thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, gee!&rdquo; said Miss Hobson, ceasing to be the distressed wife and
+      becoming the offended star. &ldquo;What's it this time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suggested at the last rehearsal and at the rehearsal before and the
+      rehearsal before that, that, on that line, you, should pick up the
+      paper-knife and toy negligently with it. You did it yesterday, and to-day
+      you've forgotten it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Miss Hobson, wounded to the quick. &ldquo;If this don't beat
+      everything! How the heck can I toy negligently with a paper-knife when
+      there's no paper-knife for me to toy negligently with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The paper-knife is on the desk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not on the desk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No paper-knife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No paper-knife. And it's no good picking on me. I'm the star, not the
+      assistant stage manager. If you're going to pick on anybody, pick on him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The advice appeared to strike Mr. Bunbury as good. He threw back his head
+      and bayed like a bloodhound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a momentary pause, and then from the wings on the prompt side
+      there shambled out a stout and shrinking figure, in whose hand was a
+      script of the play and on whose face, lit up by the footlights, there
+      shone a look of apprehension. It was Fillmore, the Man of Destiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alas, poor Fillmore! He stood in the middle of the stage with the
+      lightning of Mr. Bunbury's wrath playing about his defenceless head, and
+      Sally, recovering from her first astonishment, sent a wave of sisterly
+      commiseration floating across the theatre to him. She did not often pity
+      Fillmore. His was a nature which in the sunshine of prosperity had a
+      tendency to grow a trifle lush; and such of the minor ills of life as had
+      afflicted him during the past three years, had, she considered, been
+      wholesome and educative and a matter not for concern but for
+      congratulation. Unmoved, she had watched him through that lean period
+      lunching on coffee and buckwheat cakes, and curbing from motives of
+      economy a somewhat florid taste in dress. But this was different. This was
+      tragedy. Somehow or other, blasting disaster must have smitten the
+      Fillmore bank-roll, and he was back where he had started. His presence
+      here this morning could mean nothing else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She recalled his words at the breakfast-table about financing the play.
+      How like Fillmore to try to save his face for the moment with an
+      outrageous bluff, though well aware that he would have to reveal the truth
+      sooner or later. She realized how he must have felt when he had seen her
+      at the hotel. Yes, she was sorry for Fillmore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, as she listened to the fervent eloquence of Mr. Bunbury, she
+      perceived that she had every reason to be. Fillmore was having a bad time.
+      One of the chief articles of faith in the creed of all theatrical
+      producers is that if anything goes wrong it must be the fault of the
+      assistant stage manager and Mr. Bunbury was evidently orthodox in his
+      views. He was showing oratorical gifts of no mean order. The paper-knife
+      seemed to inspire him. Gradually, Sally began to get the feeling that this
+      harmless, necessary stage-property was the source from which sprang most,
+      if not all, of the trouble in the world. It had disappeared before. Now it
+      had disappeared again. Could Mr. Bunbury go on struggling in a universe
+      where this sort of thing happened? He seemed to doubt it. Being a
+      red-blooded, one-hundred-per-cent American man, he would try hard, but it
+      was a hundred to one shot that he would get through. He had asked for a
+      paper-knife. There was no paper-knife. Why was there no paper-knife? Where
+      was the paper-knife anyway?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you, Mr. Bunbury,&rdquo; bleated the unhappy Fillmore, obsequiously.
+      &ldquo;I placed it with the rest of the properties after the last rehearsal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You couldn't have done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it walked away, I suppose,&rdquo; said Miss Hobson with cold scorn, pausing
+      in the operation of brightening up her lower lip with a lip-stick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A calm, clear voice spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was taken away,&rdquo; said the calm, clear voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Winch had added herself to the symposium. She stood beside Fillmore,
+      chewing placidly. It took more than raised voices and gesticulating hands
+      to disturb Miss Winch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hobson took it,&rdquo; she went on in her cosy, drawling voice. &ldquo;I saw
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sensation in court. The prisoner, who seemed to feel his position deeply,
+      cast a pop-eyed glance full of gratitude at his advocate. Mr. Bunbury, in
+      his capacity of prosecuting attorney, ran his fingers through his hair in
+      some embarrassment, for he was regretting now that he had made such a
+      fuss. Miss Hobson thus assailed by an underling, spun round and dropped
+      the lip-stick, which was neatly retrieved by the assiduous Mr. Cracknell.
+      Mr. Cracknell had his limitations, but he was rather good at picking up
+      lip-sticks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that? I took it? I never did anything of the sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hobson took it after the rehearsal yesterday,&rdquo; drawled Gladys Winch,
+      addressing the world in general, &ldquo;and threw it negligently at the theatre
+      cat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson seemed taken aback. Her composure was not restored by Mr.
+      Bunbury's next remark. The producer, like his company, had been feeling
+      the strain of the past few days, and, though as a rule he avoided anything
+      in the nature of a clash with the temperamental star, this matter of the
+      missing paper-knife had bitten so deeply into his soul that he felt
+      compelled to speak his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In future, Miss Hobson, I should be glad if, when you wish to throw
+      anything at the cat, you would not select a missile from the property box.
+      Good heavens!&rdquo; he cried, stung by the way fate was maltreating him, &ldquo;I
+      have never experienced anything like this before. I have been producing
+      plays all my life, and this is the first time this has happened. I have
+      produced Nazimova. Nazimova never threw paper-knives at cats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hate cats,&rdquo; said Miss Hobson, as though that settled it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I,&rdquo; murmured Miss Winch, &ldquo;love little pussy, her fur is so warm, and if I
+      don't hurt her she'll do me no...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my heavens!&rdquo; shouted Gerald Foster, bounding from his seat and for
+      the first time taking a share in the debate. &ldquo;Are we going to spend the
+      whole day arguing about cats and paper-knives? For goodness' sake, clear
+      the stage and stop wasting time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson chose to regard this intervention as an affront.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't shout at me, Mr. Foster!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wasn't shouting at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you have anything to say to me, lower your voice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He can't,&rdquo; observed Miss Winch. &ldquo;He's a tenor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nazimova never...&rdquo; began Mr. Bunbury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson was not to be diverted from her theme by reminiscences of
+      Nazimova. She had not finished dealing with Gerald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the shows I've been in,&rdquo; she said, mordantly, &ldquo;the author wasn't
+      allowed to go about the place getting fresh with the leading lady. In the
+      shows I've been in the author sat at the back and spoke when he was spoken
+      to. In the shows I've been in...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was tingling all over. This reminded her of the dog-fight on the
+      Roville sands. She wanted to be in it, and only the recognition that it
+      was a private fight and that she would be intruding kept her silent. The
+      lure of the fray, however, was too strong for her wholly to resist it.
+      Almost unconsciously, she had risen from her place and drifted down the
+      aisle so as to be nearer the white-hot centre of things. She was now
+      standing in the lighted space by the orchestra-pit, and her presence
+      attracted the roving attention of Miss Hobson, who, having concluded her
+      remarks on authors and their legitimate sphere of activity, was looking
+      about for some other object of attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who the devil,&rdquo; inquired Miss Hobson, &ldquo;is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally found herself an object of universal scrutiny and wished that she
+      had remained in the obscurity of the back rows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Mr. Nicholas' sister,&rdquo; was the best method of identification that
+      she could find.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's Mr. Nicholas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore timidly admitted that he was Mr. Nicholas. He did it in the
+      manner of one in the dock pleading guilty to a major charge, and at least
+      half of those present seemed surprised. To them, till now, Fillmore had
+      been a nameless thing, answering to the shout of &ldquo;Hi!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson received the information with a laugh of such exceeding
+      bitterness that strong men blanched and Mr. Cracknell started so
+      convulsively that he nearly jerked his collar off its stud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, sweetie!&rdquo; urged Mr. Cracknell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Hobson said that Mr. Cracknell gave her a pain in the gizzard. She
+      recommended his fading away, and he did so&mdash;into his collar. He
+      seemed to feel that once well inside his collar he was &ldquo;home&rdquo; and safe
+      from attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm through!&rdquo; announced Miss Hobson. It appeared that Sally's presence
+      had in some mysterious fashion fulfilled the function of the last straw.
+      &ldquo;This is the by-Goddest show I was ever in! I can stand for a whole lot,
+      but when it comes to the assistant stage manager being allowed to fill the
+      theatre with his sisters and his cousins and his aunts it's time to quit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sweetie!&rdquo; pleaded Mr. Cracknell, coming to the surface.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, go and choke yourself!&rdquo; said Miss Hobson, crisply. And, swinging
+      round like a blue panther, she strode off. A door banged, and the sound of
+      it seemed to restore Mr. Cracknell's power of movement. He, too, shot up
+      stage and disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Sally,&rdquo; said Elsa Doland, looking up from her magazine. The
+      battle, raging all round her, had failed to disturb her detachment. &ldquo;When
+      did you get back?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally trotted up the steps which had been propped against the stage to
+      form a bridge over the orchestra pit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Elsa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The late debaters had split into groups. Mr. Bunbury and Gerald were
+      pacing up and down the central aisle, talking earnestly. Fillmore had
+      subsided into a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know Gladys Winch?&rdquo; asked Elsa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally shook hands with the placid lodestar of her brother's affections.
+      Miss Winch, on closer inspection, proved to have deep grey eyes and
+      freckles. Sally's liking for her increased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you for saving Fillmore from the wolves,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They would
+      have torn him in pieces but for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know,&rdquo; said Miss Winch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was noble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;I'll go and have a talk with Fillmore. He looks as
+      though he wanted consoling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made her way to that picturesque ruin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      4
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore had the air of a man who thought it wasn't loaded. A wild,
+      startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he was breathing
+      heavily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cheer up!&rdquo; said Sally. Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly. &ldquo;Tell me
+      all,&rdquo; said Sally, sitting down beside him. &ldquo;I leave you a gentleman of
+      large and independent means, and I come back and find you one of the
+      wage-slaves again. How did it all happen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally,&rdquo; said Fillmore, &ldquo;I will be frank with you. Can you lend me ten
+      dollars?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see how you make that out an answer to my question, but here you
+      are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo; Fillmore pocketed the bill. &ldquo;I'll let you have it back next
+      week. I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that's what you want it for, don't look on it as a loan, take it as a
+      gift with my blessing thrown in.&rdquo; She looked over her shoulder at Miss
+      Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being temporarily suspended, was
+      practising golf-shots with an umbrella at the other side of the stage.
+      &ldquo;However did you have the sense to fall in love with her, Fill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like her?&rdquo; asked Fillmore, brightening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew you would. She's just the right girl for me, isn't she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She certainly is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So sympathetic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl
+      who marries you will need.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting in a
+      low chair can achieve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day I will make you believe in me, Sally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Less of the Merchant Prince, my lad,&rdquo; said Sally, firmly. &ldquo;You just
+      confine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of taking up
+      my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the future. You've lost
+      all your money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have suffered certain reverses,&rdquo; said Fillmore, with dignity, &ldquo;which
+      have left me temporarily... Yes, every bean,&rdquo; he concluded simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo; Fillmore hesitated. &ldquo;I've had bad luck, you know. First I bought
+      Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell. So that went wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose. So that
+      went wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good gracious! Why, I've heard all this before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I remember now. It's just that you remind me of a man I met at
+      Roville. He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had made a
+      hash of everything. Well, that took all you had, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite. I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal that really
+      did look cast-iron.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that went wrong!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wasn't my fault,&rdquo; said Fillmore querulously. &ldquo;It was just my poisonous
+      luck. A man I knew got me to join a syndicate which had bought up a lot of
+      whisky. The idea was to ship it into Chicago in herring-barrels. We should
+      have cleaned up big, only a mutt of a detective took it into his darned
+      head to go fooling about with a crowbar. Officious ass! It wasn't as if
+      the barrels weren't labelled 'Herrings' as plainly as they could be,&rdquo; said
+      Fillmore with honest indignation. He shuddered. &ldquo;I nearly got arrested.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that went wrong? Well, that's something to be thankful for. Stripes
+      wouldn't suit your figure.&rdquo; Sally gave his arm a squeeze. She was very
+      fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his soul she generally concealed
+      her affection beneath a manner which he had once compared, not without
+      some reason, to that of a governess who had afflicted their mutual
+      childhood. &ldquo;Never mind, you poor ill-used martyr. Things are sure to come
+      right. We shall see you a millionaire some day. And, oh heavens, brother
+      Fillmore, what a bore you'll be when you are! I can just see you being
+      interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good. 'Mr.
+      Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work. He can lay his hand on
+      his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged in those
+      rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise and watch
+      things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and watch 'em rise.'
+      Fill... I'll tell you what I'll do. They all say it's the first bit of
+      money that counts in building a vast fortune. I'll lend you some of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will? Sally, I always said you were an ace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard you. You oughtn't to mumble so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you lend me twenty thousand dollars?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally patted his hand soothingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come slowly down to earth,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Two hundred was the sum I had in
+      mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want twenty thousand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better rob a bank. Any policeman will direct you to a good bank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you why I want twenty thousand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might just mention it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had twenty thousand, I'd buy this production from Cracknell. He'll
+      be back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman has quit: and,
+      if she really has, you take it from me that he will close the show. And,
+      even if he manages to jolly her along this time and she comes back, it's
+      going to happen sooner or later. It's a shame to let a show like this
+      close. I believe in it, Sally. It's a darn good play. With Elsa Doland in
+      the big part, it couldn't fail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally started. Her money was too recent for her to have grown fully
+      accustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a position to
+      wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale. The financing of a
+      theatrical production had always been to her something mysterious and out
+      of the reach of ordinary persons like herself. Fillmore, that spacious
+      thinker, had brought it into the sphere of the possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'd sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit in
+      hand. You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York. I'd
+      give you ten per cent on your money, Sally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally found herself wavering. The prudent side of her nature, which
+      hitherto had steered her safely through most of life's rapids, seemed
+      oddly dormant. Sub-consciously she was aware that on past performances
+      Fillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control of anybody's
+      little fortune, but somehow the thought did not seem to grip her. He had
+      touched her imagination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a gold-mine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's prudent side stirred in its sleep. Fillmore had chosen an
+      unfortunate expression. To the novice in finance the word gold-mine had
+      repellent associations. If there was one thing in which Sally had proposed
+      not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she had had in view, as
+      a matter of fact, had been one of those little fancy shops which are
+      called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or something like that, where you
+      sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy at extortionate prices. She knew
+      two girls who were doing splendidly in that line. As Fillmore spoke those
+      words, Ye Corner Shoppe suddenly looked very good to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment, however, two things happened. Gerald and Mr. Bunbury, in
+      the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of the footlights,
+      and she was able to see Gerald's face: and at the same time Mr. Reginald
+      Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole demeanour that of the bearer
+      of evil tidings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of Gerald's face annihilated Sally's prudence at a single
+      stroke. Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been shining brightly
+      before her mental eye, flickered and melted out. The whole issue became
+      clear and simple. Gerald was miserable and she had it in her power to make
+      him happy. He was sullenly awaiting disaster and she with a word could
+      avert it. She wondered that she had ever hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; she said simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore quivered from head to foot. A powerful electric shock could not
+      have produced a stronger convulsion. He knew Sally of old as cautious and
+      clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother's eloquence; and he
+      had never looked on this thing as anything better than a hundred to one
+      shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll do it?&rdquo; he whispered, and held his breath. After all he might not
+      have heard correctly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All the complex emotion in Fillmore's soul found expression in one vast
+      whoop. It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump, beating
+      against the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very gallery. Mr.
+      Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr. Cracknell across the
+      footlights, shied like a startled mule. There was reproach and menace in
+      the look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute earlier it would have reduced
+      that financial magnate to apologetic pulp. But Fillmore was not to be
+      intimidated now by a look. He strode down to the group at the footlights,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cracknell,&rdquo; he said importantly, &ldquo;one moment, I should like a word with
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII. SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      If actors and actresses are like children in that they are readily
+      depressed by disaster, they have the child's compensating gift of being
+      easily uplifted by good fortune. It amazed Sally that any one mortal
+      should have been able to spread such universal happiness as she had done
+      by the simple act of lending her brother Fillmore twenty thousand dollars.
+      If the Millennium had arrived, the members of the Primrose Way Company
+      could not have been on better terms with themselves. The lethargy and
+      dispiritedness, caused by their week of inaction, fell from them like a
+      cloak. The sudden elevation of that creature of the abyss, the assistant
+      stage manager, to the dizzy height of proprietor of the show appealed to
+      their sense of drama. Most of them had played in pieces where much the
+      same thing had happened to the persecuted heroine round about eleven
+      o'clock, and the situation struck them as theatrically sound. Also, now
+      that she had gone, the extent to which Miss Hobson had acted as a blight
+      was universally recognized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A spirit of optimism reigned, and cheerful rumours became current. The
+      bowler-hatted Teddy had it straight from the lift-boy at his hotel that
+      the ban on the theatres was to be lifted on Tuesday at the latest; while
+      no less an authority than the cigar-stand girl at the Pontchatrain had
+      informed the man who played the butler that Toledo and Cleveland were
+      opening to-morrow. It was generally felt that the sun was bursting through
+      the clouds and that Fate would soon despair of the hopeless task of trying
+      to keep good men down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore was himself again. We all have our particular mode of
+      self-expression in moments of elation. Fillmore's took the shape of buying
+      a new waistcoat and a hundred half-dollar cigars and being very fussy
+      about what he had for lunch. It may have been an optical illusion, but he
+      appeared to Sally to put on at least six pounds in weight on the first day
+      of the new regime. As a serf looking after paper-knives and other
+      properties, he had been&mdash;for him&mdash;almost slim. As a manager he
+      blossomed out into soft billowy curves, and when he stood on the sidewalk
+      in front of the theatre, gloating over the new posters which bore the
+      legend,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     FILLMORE NICHOLAS
+
+     PRESENTS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      the populace had to make a detour to get round him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this era of bubbling joy, it was hard that Sally, the fairy godmother
+      responsible for it all, should not have been completely happy too; and it
+      puzzled her why she was not. But whatever it was that cast the faint
+      shadow refused obstinately to come out from the back of her mind and show
+      itself and be challenged. It was not till she was out driving in a hired
+      car with Gerald one afternoon on Belle Isle that enlightenment came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald, since the departure of Miss Hobson, had been at his best. Like
+      Fillmore, he was a man who responded to the sunshine of prosperity. His
+      moodiness had vanished, and all his old charm had returned. And yet... it
+      seemed to Sally, as the car slid smoothly through the pleasant woods and
+      fields by the river, that there was something that jarred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald was cheerful and talkative. He, at any rate, found nothing wrong
+      with life. He held forth spaciously on the big things he intended to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If this play get over&mdash;and it's going to&mdash;I'll show 'em!&rdquo; His
+      jaw was squared, and his eyes glowed as they stared into the inviting
+      future. &ldquo;One success&mdash;that's all I need&mdash;then watch me! I
+      haven't had a chance yet, but...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice rolled on, but Sally had ceased to listen. It was the time of
+      year when the chill of evening follows swiftly on the mellow warmth of
+      afternoon. The sun had gone behind the trees, and a cold wind was blowing
+      up from the river. And quite suddenly, as though it was the wind that had
+      cleared her mind, she understood what it was that had been lurking at the
+      back of her thoughts. For an instant it stood out nakedly without
+      concealment, and the world became a forlorn place. She had realized the
+      fundamental difference between man's outlook on life and woman's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Success! How men worshipped it, and how little of themselves they had to
+      spare for anything else. Ironically, it was the theme of this very play of
+      Gerald's which she had saved from destruction. Of all the men she knew,
+      how many had any view of life except as a race which they must strain
+      every nerve to win, regardless of what they missed by the wayside in their
+      haste? Fillmore&mdash;Gerald&mdash;all of them. There might be a woman in
+      each of their lives, but she came second&mdash;an afterthought&mdash;a
+      thing for their spare time. Gerald was everything to her. His success
+      would never be more than a side-issue as far as she was concerned. He
+      himself, without any of the trappings of success, was enough for her. But
+      she was not enough for him. A spasm of futile jealousy shook her. She
+      shivered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold?&rdquo; said Gerald. &ldquo;I'll tell the man to drive back... I don't see any
+      reason why this play shouldn't run a year in New York. Everybody says it's
+      good... if it does get over, they'll all be after me. I...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stared out into a bleak world. The sky was a leaden grey, and the
+      wind from the river blew with a dismal chill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII. REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE&mdash;AND GINGER
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Sally left Detroit on the following Saturday, accompanied by
+      Fillmore, who was returning to the metropolis for a few days in order to
+      secure offices and generally make his presence felt along Broadway, her
+      spirits had completely recovered. She felt guiltily that she had been
+      fanciful, even morbid. Naturally men wanted to get on in the world. It was
+      their job. She told herself that she was bound up with Gerald's success,
+      and that the last thing of which she ought to complain was the energy he
+      put into efforts of which she as well as he would reap the reward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this happier frame of mind the excitement of the last few days had
+      contributed. Detroit, that city of amiable audiences, had liked &ldquo;The
+      Primrose Way.&rdquo; The theatre, in fulfilment of Teddy's prophecy, had been
+      allowed to open on the Tuesday, and a full house, hungry for entertainment
+      after its enforced abstinence, had welcomed the play wholeheartedly. The
+      papers, not always in agreement with the applause of a first-night
+      audience, had on this occasion endorsed the verdict, with agreeable
+      unanimity hailing Gerald as the coming author and Elsa Doland as the
+      coming star. There had even been a brief mention of Fillmore as the coming
+      manager. But there is always some trifle that jars in our greatest
+      moments, and Fillmore's triumph had been almost spoilt by the fact that
+      the only notice taken of Gladys Winch was by the critic who printed her
+      name&mdash;spelt Wunch&mdash;in the list of those whom the cast &ldquo;also
+      included.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of the greatest character actresses on the stage,&rdquo; said Fillmore
+      bitterly, talking over this outrage with Sally on the morning after the
+      production.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From this blow, however, his buoyant nature had soon enabled him to rally.
+      Life contained so much that was bright that it would have been churlish to
+      concentrate the attention on the one dark spot. Business had been
+      excellent all through the week. Elsa Doland had got better at every
+      performance. The receipt of a long and agitated telegram from Mr.
+      Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the passage of
+      time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a pleasant incident. And,
+      best of all, the great Ike Schumann, who owned half the theatres in New
+      York and had been in Detroit superintending one of his musical
+      productions, had looked in one evening and stamped &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo; with
+      the seal of his approval. As Fillmore sat opposite Sally on the train, he
+      radiated contentment and importance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, do,&rdquo; said Sally, breaking a long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore awoke from happy dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said 'Yes, do.' I think you owe it to your position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buy a fur coat. Wasn't that what you were meditating about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be a chump,&rdquo; said Fillmore, blushing nevertheless. It was true that
+      once or twice during the past week he had toyed negligently, as Mr.
+      Bunbury would have said, with the notion, and why not? A fellow must keep
+      warm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With an astrakhan collar,&rdquo; insisted Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a matter of fact,&rdquo; said Fillmore loftily, his great soul ill-attuned
+      to this badinage, &ldquo;what I was really thinking about at the moment was
+      something Ike said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ike?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ike Schumann. He's on the train. I met him just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We call him Ike!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I call him Ike,&rdquo; said Fillmore heatedly. &ldquo;Everyone calls him
+      Ike.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wears a fur coat,&rdquo; Sally murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore registered annoyance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you wouldn't keep on harping on that damned coat. And, anyway, why
+      shouldn't I have a fur coat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fill...! How can you be so brutal as to suggest that I ever said you
+      shouldn't? Why, I'm one of the strongest supporters of the fur coat. With
+      big cuffs. And you must roll up Fifth Avenue in your car, and I'll point
+      and say 'That's my brother!' 'Your brother? No!' 'He is, really.' 'You're
+      joking. Why, that's the great Fillmore Nicholas.' 'I know. But he really
+      is my brother. And I was with him when he bought that coat.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do leave off about the coat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'And it isn't only the coat,' I shall say. 'It's what's underneath.
+      Tucked away inside that mass of fur, dodging about behind that dollar
+      cigar, is one to whom we point with pride... '&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore looked coldly at his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got to go and see Ike Schumann.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are in hourly consultation with Ike.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wants to see me about the show. He suggests putting it into Chicago
+      before opening in New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; cried Sally, dismayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally recovered herself. Identifying Gerald so closely with his play, she
+      had supposed for a moment that if the piece opened in Chicago it would
+      mean a further prolonged separation from him. But of course there would be
+      no need, she realized, for him to stay with the company after the first
+      day or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're thinking that we ought to have a New York reputation before
+      tackling Chicago. There's a lot to be said for that. Still, it works both
+      ways. A Chicago run would help us in New York. Well, I'll have to think it
+      over,&rdquo; said Fillmore, importantly, &ldquo;I'll have to think it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He mused with drawn brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All wrong,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit like it. The lips should be compressed and the forefinger of
+      the right hand laid in a careworn way against the right temple. You've a
+      lot to learn. Fill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, stop it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore Nicholas,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;if you knew what pain it gives me to
+      josh my only brother, you'd be sorry for me. But you know it's for your
+      good. Now run along and put Ike out of his misery. I know he's waiting for
+      you with his watch out. 'You do think he'll come, Miss Nicholas?' were his
+      last words to me as he stepped on the train, and oh, Fill, the yearning in
+      his voice. 'Why, of course he will, Mr. Schumann,' I said. 'For all his
+      exalted position, my brother is kindliness itself. Of course he'll come.'
+      'If I could only think so!' he said with a gulp. 'If I could only think
+      so. But you know what these managers are. A thousand calls on their time.
+      They get brooding on their fur coats and forget everything else.' 'Have no
+      fear, Mr. Schumann,' I said. 'Fillmore Nicholas is a man of his word.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She would have been willing, for she was a girl who never believed in
+      sparing herself where it was a question of entertaining her nearest and
+      dearest, to continue the dialogue, but Fillmore was already moving down
+      the car, his rigid back a silent protest against sisterly levity. Sally
+      watched him disappear, then picked up a magazine and began to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had just finished tracking a story of gripping interest through a
+      jungle of advertisements, only to find that it was in two parts, of which
+      the one she was reading was the first, when a voice spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Miss Nicholas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Into the seat before her, recently released from the weight of the coming
+      manager, Bruce Carmyle of all people in the world insinuated himself with
+      that well-bred air of deferential restraint which never left him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was considerably startled. Everybody travels nowadays, of course,
+      and there is nothing really remarkable in finding a man in America whom
+      you had supposed to be in Europe: but nevertheless she was conscious of a
+      dream-like sensation, as though the clock had been turned back and a
+      chapter of her life reopened which she had thought closed for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carmyle!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If Sally had been constantly in Bruce Carmyle's thoughts since they had
+      parted on the Paris express, Mr. Carmyle had been very little in Sally's&mdash;so
+      little, indeed, that she had had to search her memory for a moment before
+      she identified him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're always meeting on trains, aren't we?&rdquo; she went on, her composure
+      returning. &ldquo;I never expected to see you in America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was tempted to reply that she gathered that, but a sudden
+      embarrassment curbed her tongue. She had just remembered that at their
+      last meeting she had been abominably rude to this man. She was never rude
+      to anyone, without subsequent remorse. She contented herself with a tame
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle, &ldquo;it is a good many years since I have taken a
+      real holiday. My doctor seemed to think I was a trifle run down. It seemed
+      a good opportunity to visit America. Everybody,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle
+      oracularly, endeavouring, as he had often done since his ship had left
+      England, to persuade himself that his object in making the trip had not
+      been merely to renew his acquaintance with Sally, &ldquo;everybody ought to
+      visit America at least once. It is part of one's education.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what are your impressions of our glorious country?&rdquo; said Sally
+      rallying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle seemed glad of the opportunity of lecturing on an impersonal
+      subject. He, too, though his face had shown no trace of it, had been
+      embarrassed in the opening stages of the conversation. The sound of his
+      voice restored him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been visiting Chicago,&rdquo; he said after a brief travelogue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A wonderful city.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've never seen it. I've come from Detroit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I heard you were in Detroit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's eyes opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You heard I was in Detroit? Good gracious! How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;ah&mdash;called at your New York address and made inquiries,&rdquo;
+       said Mr. Carmyle a little awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did you know where I lived?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My cousin&mdash;er&mdash;Lancelot told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was silent for a moment. She had much the same feeling that comes to
+      the man in the detective story who realizes that he is being shadowed.
+      Even if this almost complete stranger had not actually come to America in
+      direct pursuit of her, there was no disguising the fact that he evidently
+      found her an object of considerable interest. It was a compliment, but
+      Sally was not at all sure that she liked it. Bruce Carmyle meant nothing
+      to her, and it was rather disturbing to find that she was apparently of
+      great importance to him. She seized on the mention of Ginger as a lever
+      for diverting the conversation from its present too intimate course.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is Mr. Kemp?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle's dark face seemed to become a trifle darker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have had no news of him,&rdquo; he said shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No news? How do you mean? You speak as though he had disappeared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has disappeared!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens! When?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shortly after I saw you last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Disappeared!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle frowned. Sally, watching him, found her antipathy stirring
+      again. There was something about this man which she had disliked
+      instinctively from the first, a sort of hardness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where has he gone to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo; Mr. Carmyle frowned again. The subject of Ginger was
+      plainly a sore one. &ldquo;And I don't want to know,&rdquo; he went on heatedly, a
+      dull flush rising in the cheeks which Sally was sure he had to shave twice
+      a day. &ldquo;I don't care to know. The Family have washed their hands of him.
+      For the future he may look after himself as best he can. I believe he is
+      off his head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's rebellious temper was well ablaze now, but she fought it down. She
+      would dearly have loved to give battle to Mr. Carmyle&mdash;it was odd,
+      she felt, how she seemed to have constituted herself Ginger's champion and
+      protector&mdash;but she perceived that, if she wished, as she did, to hear
+      more of her red-headed friend, he must be humoured and conciliated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what happened? What was all the trouble about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle's eyebrows met.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&mdash;insulted his uncle. His uncle Donald. He insulted him&mdash;grossly.
+      The one man in the world he should have made a point of&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keeping in with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. His future depended upon him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what did he do?&rdquo; cried Sally, trying hard to keep a thoroughly
+      reprehensible joy out of her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard no details. My uncle is reticent as to what actually took
+      place. He invited Lancelot to dinner to discuss his plans, and it appears
+      that Lancelot&mdash;defied him. Defied him! He was rude and insulting. My
+      uncle refuses to have anything more to do with him. Apparently the young
+      fool managed to win some money at the tables at Roville, and this seems to
+      have turned his head completely. My uncle insists that he is mad. I agree
+      with him. Since the night of that dinner nothing has been heard of
+      Lancelot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle broke off to brood once more, and before Sally could speak the
+      impressive bulk of Fillmore loomed up in the aisle beside them.
+      Explanations seemed to Fillmore to be in order. He cast a questioning
+      glance at the mysterious stranger, who, in addition to being in
+      conversation with his sister, had collared his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hullo, Fill,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;Fillmore, this is Mr. Carmyle. We met
+      abroad. My brother Fillmore, Mr. Carmyle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Proper introduction having been thus effected, Fillmore approved of Mr.
+      Carmyle. His air of being someone in particular appealed to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange you meeting again like this,&rdquo; he said affably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The porter, who had been making up berths along the car, was now hovering
+      expectantly in the offing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You two had better go into the smoking room,&rdquo; suggested Sally. &ldquo;I'm going
+      to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She wanted to be alone, to think. Mr. Carmyle's tale of a roused and
+      revolting Ginger had stirred her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men went off to the smoking-room, and Sally found an empty seat
+      and sat down to wait for her berth to be made up. She was aglow with a
+      curious exhilaration. So Ginger had taken her advice! Excellent Ginger!
+      She felt proud of him. She also had that feeling of complacency, amounting
+      almost to sinful pride, which comes to those who give advice and find it
+      acted upon. She had the emotions of a creator. After all, had she not
+      created this new Ginger? It was she who had stirred him up. It was she who
+      had unleashed him. She had changed him from a meek dependent of the Family
+      to a ravening creature, who went about the place insulting uncles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a feat, there was no denying it. It was something attempted,
+      something done: and by all the rules laid down by the poet it should,
+      therefore, have earned a night's repose. Yet, Sally, jolted by the train,
+      which towards the small hours seemed to be trying out some new
+      buck-and-wing steps of its own invention, slept ill, and presently, as she
+      lay awake, there came to her bedside the Spectre of Doubt, gaunt and
+      questioning. Had she, after all, wrought so well? Had she been wise in
+      tampering with this young man's life?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about it?&rdquo; said the Spectre of Doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Daylight brought no comforting answer to the question. Breakfast failed to
+      manufacture an easy mind. Sally got off the train, at the Grand Central
+      station in a state of remorseful concern. She declined the offer of Mr.
+      Carmyle to drive her to the boarding-house, and started to walk there,
+      hoping that the crisp morning air would effect a cure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She wondered now how she could ever have looked with approval on her rash
+      act. She wondered what demon of interference and meddling had possessed
+      her, to make her blunder into people's lives, upsetting them. She wondered
+      that she was allowed to go around loose. She was nothing more nor less
+      than a menace to society. Here was an estimable young man, obviously the
+      sort of young man who would always have to be assisted through life by his
+      relatives, and she had deliberately egged him on to wreck his prospects.
+      She blushed hotly as she remembered that mad wireless she had sent him
+      from the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miserable Ginger! She pictured him, his little stock of money gone,
+      wandering foot-sore about London, seeking in vain for work; forcing
+      himself to call on Uncle Donald; being thrown down the front steps by
+      haughty footmen; sleeping on the Embankment; gazing into the dark waters
+      of the Thames with the stare of hopelessness; climbing to the parapet
+      and...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ugh!&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had arrived at the door of the boarding-house, and Mrs. Meecher was
+      regarding her with welcoming eyes, little knowing that to all practical
+      intents and purposes she had slain in his prime a red-headed young man of
+      amiable manners and&mdash;when not ill-advised by meddling, muddling
+      females&mdash;of excellent behaviour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Meecher was friendly and garrulous. Variety, the journal which, next
+      to the dog Toto, was the thing she loved best in the world, had informed
+      her on the Friday morning that Mr. Foster's play had got over big in
+      Detroit, and that Miss Doland had made every kind of hit. It was not often
+      that the old alumni of the boarding-house forced their way after this
+      fashion into the Hall of Fame, and, according to Mrs. Meecher, the
+      establishment was ringing with the news. That blue ribbon round Toto's
+      neck was worn in honour of the triumph. There was also, though you could
+      not see it, a chicken dinner in Toto's interior, by way of further
+      celebration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And was it true that Mr. Fillmore had bought the piece? A great man, was
+      Mrs. Meecher's verdict. Mr. Faucitt had always said so...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how is Mr. Faucitt?&rdquo; Sally asked, reproaching herself for having
+      allowed the pressure of other matters to drive all thoughts of her late
+      patient from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's gone,&rdquo; said Mrs. Meecher with such relish that to Sally, in her
+      morbid condition, the words had only one meaning. She turned white and
+      clutched at the banisters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To England,&rdquo; added Mrs. Meecher. Sally was vastly relieved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I thought you meant...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, not that.&rdquo; Mrs. Meecher sighed, for she had been a little
+      disappointed in the old gentleman, who started out as such a promising
+      invalid, only to fall away into the dullness of robust health once more.
+      &ldquo;He's well enough. I never seen anybody better. You'd think,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Meecher, bearing up with difficulty under her grievance, &ldquo;you'd think this
+      here new Spanish influenza was a sort of a tonic or somep'n, the way he
+      looks now. Of course,&rdquo; she added, trying to find justification for a
+      respected lodger, &ldquo;he's had good news. His brother's dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not, I don't mean, that that was good news, far from it, though, come to
+      think of it, all flesh is as grass and we all got to be prepared for
+      somep'n of the sort breaking loose...but it seems this here new brother of
+      his&mdash;I didn't know he'd a brother, and I don't suppose you knew he
+      had a brother. Men are secretive, ain't they!&mdash;this brother of his
+      has left him a parcel of money, and Mr. Faucitt he had to get on the
+      Wednesday boat quick as he could and go right over to the other side to
+      look after things. Wind up the estate, I believe they call it. Left in a
+      awful hurry, he did. Sent his love to you and said he'd write. Funny him
+      having a brother, now, wasn't it? Not,&rdquo; said Mrs. Meecher, at heart a
+      reasonable woman, &ldquo;that folks don't have brothers. I got two myself, one
+      in Portland, Oregon, and the other goodness knows where he is. But what
+      I'm trying to say...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally disengaged herself, and went up to her room. For a brief while the
+      excitement which comes of hearing good news about those of whom we are
+      fond acted as a stimulant, and she felt almost cheerful. Dear old Mr.
+      Faucitt. She was sorry for his brother, of course, though she had never
+      had the pleasure of his acquaintance and had only just heard that he had
+      ever existed; but it was nice to think that her old friend's remaining
+      years would be years of affluence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, however, she found her thoughts wandering back into their
+      melancholy groove. She threw herself wearily on the bed. She was tired
+      after her bad night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she could not sleep. Remorse kept her awake. Besides, she could hear
+      Mrs. Meecher prowling disturbingly about the house, apparently in search
+      of someone, her progress indicated by creaking boards and the strenuous
+      yapping of Toto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally turned restlessly, and, having turned remained for a long instant
+      transfixed and rigid. She had seen something, and what she had seen was
+      enough to surprise any girl in the privacy of her bedroom. From underneath
+      the bed there peeped coyly forth an undeniably masculine shoe and six
+      inches of a grey trouser-leg.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally bounded to the floor. She was a girl of courage, and she meant to
+      probe this matter thoroughly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing under my bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The question was a reasonable one, and evidently seemed to the intruder to
+      deserve an answer. There was a muffled sneeze, and he began to crawl out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shoe came first. Then the legs. Then a sturdy body in a dusty coat.
+      And finally there flashed on Sally's fascinated gaze a head of so nearly
+      the maximum redness that it could only belong to one person in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lancelot Kemp, on all fours, blinked up at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hullo!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX. GINGER BECOMES A RIGHT-HAND MAN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was not till she saw him actually standing there before her with his
+      hair rumpled and a large smut on the tip of his nose, that Sally really
+      understood how profoundly troubled she had been about this young man, and
+      how vivid had been that vision of him bobbing about on the waters of the
+      Thames, a cold and unappreciated corpse. She was a girl of keen
+      imagination, and she had allowed her imagination to riot unchecked.
+      Astonishment, therefore, at the extraordinary fact of his being there was
+      for the moment thrust aside by relief. Never before in her life had she
+      experienced such an overwhelming rush of exhilaration. She flung herself
+      into a chair and burst into a screech of laughter which even to her own
+      ears sounded strange. It struck Ginger as hysterical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, you know!&rdquo; said Ginger, as the merriment showed no signs of
+      abating. Ginger was concerned. Nasty shock for a girl, finding blighters
+      under her bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally sat up, gurgling, and wiped her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am glad to see you,&rdquo; she gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, really?&rdquo; said Ginger, gratified. &ldquo;That's fine.&rdquo; It occurred to him
+      that some sort of apology would be a graceful act. &ldquo;I say, you know,
+      awfully sorry. About barging in here, I mean. Never dreamed it was your
+      room. Unoccupied, I thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't mention it. I ought not to have disturbed you. You were having a
+      nice sleep, of course. Do you always sleep on the floor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was like this...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, if you're wearing it for ornament, as a sort of beauty-spot,&rdquo;
+       said Sally, &ldquo;all right. But in case you don't know, you've a smut on your
+      nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my aunt! Not really?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now would I deceive you on an important point like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mind if I have a look in the glass?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, if you can stand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger moved hurriedly to the dressing-table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're perfectly right,&rdquo; he announced, applying his handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I was. I'm very quick at noticing things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My hair's a bit rumpled, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You take my tip,&rdquo; said Ginger, earnestly, &ldquo;and never lie about under
+      beds. There's nothing in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reminds me. You won't be offended if I asked you something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. Go ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's rather an impertinent question. You may resent it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, what were you doing under my bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, under your bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Under my bed. This. It's a bed, you know. Mine. My bed. You were
+      under it. Why? Or putting it another way, why were you under my bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was hiding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Playing hide-and-seek? That explains it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. What's-her-name&mdash;Beecher&mdash;Meecher&mdash;was after me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally shook her head disapprovingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes. It
+      unsettles her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger passed an agitated hand over his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's like this...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate to keep criticizing your appearance,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;and personally
+      I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you put about a
+      pound of dust on it. Your hands are probably grubby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger inspected them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not make a really good job of it and have a wash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd prefer it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks awfully. I mean to say it's your basin, you know, and all that.
+      What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Touching the matter of soap...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Use mine. We Americans are famous for our hospitality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks awfully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The towel is on your right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks awfully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I've a clothes brush in my bag.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks awfully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Splashing followed like a sea-lion taking a dip. &ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; said Sally,
+      &ldquo;why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger's face. &ldquo;I say, you know,
+      that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads, what! Scares me!
+      Word was brought that she was on the prowl, so it seemed to me a judicious
+      move to take cover till she sort of blew over. If she'd found me, she'd
+      have made me take that dog of hers for a walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toto?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toto. You know,&rdquo; said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, &ldquo;no dog's
+      got a right to be a dog like that. I don't suppose there's anyone keener
+      on dogs than I am, but a thing like a woolly rat.&rdquo; He shuddered slightly.
+      &ldquo;Well, one hates to be seen about with it in the public streets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why couldn't you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to take
+      Toto out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! There you rather touch the spot. You see, the fact of the matter is,
+      I'm a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard to take what
+      you might call a firm stand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday
+      before last and you weren't in the place then. You can't have been here
+      more than a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been here just a week. That's the week I'm behind with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night and
+      lost a goodish bit of what I'd won. And, somehow or another, when I got to
+      America, the stuff seemed to slip away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you come to America at all?&rdquo; said Sally, asking the question
+      which, she felt, any sensible person would have asked at the opening of
+      the conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of his familiar blushes raced over Ginger's face. &ldquo;Oh, I thought I
+      would. Land of opportunity, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you managed to find any of the opportunities yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I have got a job of sorts, I'm a waiter at a rummy little place on
+      Second Avenue. The salary isn't big, but I'd have wangled enough out of it
+      to pay last week's rent, only they docked me a goodish bit for breaking
+      plates and what not. The fact is, I'm making rather a hash of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Ginger! You oughtn't to be a waiter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what the boss seems to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, you ought to be doing something ever so much better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what? You've no notion how well all these blighters here seem to be
+      able to get along without my help. I've tramped all over the place,
+      offering my services, but they all say they'll try to carry on as they
+      are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally reflected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll make Fillmore give you a job. I wonder I didn't think of it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother. Yes, he'll be able to use you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What as?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally considered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a&mdash;as a&mdash;oh, as his right-hand man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he want a right-hand man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure to. He's a young fellow trying to get along. Sure to want a
+      right-hand man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'M yes,&rdquo; said Ginger reflectively. &ldquo;Of course, I've never been a
+      right-hand man, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you'd pick it up. I'll take you round to him now. He's staying at the
+      Astor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's just one thing,&rdquo; said Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might make a hash of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens, Ginger! There must be something in this world that you wouldn't
+      make a hash of. Don't stand arguing any longer. Are you dry? and clean?
+      Very well, then. Let's be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right ho.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger took a step towards the door, then paused, rigid, with one leg in
+      the air, as though some spell had been cast upon him. From the passage
+      outside there had sounded a shrill yapping. Ginger looked at Sally. Then
+      he looked&mdash;longingly&mdash;at the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be such a coward,&rdquo; said Sally, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much do you owe Mrs. Meecher?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Round about twelve dollars, I think it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll pay her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger flushed awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm hanged if you will! I mean,&rdquo; he stammered, &ldquo;it's frightfully good
+      of you and all that, and I can't tell you how grateful I am, but honestly,
+      I couldn't...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not press the point. She liked him the better for a rugged
+      independence, which in the days of his impecuniousness her brother
+      Fillmore had never dreamed of exhibiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Have it your own way. Proud. That's me all over,
+      Mabel. Ginger!&rdquo; She broke off sharply. &ldquo;Pull yourself together. Where is
+      your manly spirit? I'd be ashamed to be such a coward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awfully sorry, but, honestly, that woolly dog...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind the dog. I'll see you through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They came out into the passage almost on top of Toto, who was stalking
+      phantom rats. Mrs. Meecher was manoeuvring in the background. Her face lit
+      up grimly at the sight of Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mister Kemp! I been looking for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally intervened brightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mrs. Meecher,&rdquo; she said, shepherding her young charge through the
+      danger zone, &ldquo;I was so surprised to meet Mr. Kemp here. He is a great
+      friend of mine. We met in France. We're going off now to have a long talk
+      about old times, and then I'm taking him to see my brother...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toto...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear little thing! You ought to take him for a walk,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;It's a
+      lovely day. Mr. Kemp was saying just now that he would have liked to take
+      him, but we're rather in a hurry and shall probably have to get into a
+      taxi. You've no idea how busy my brother is just now. If we're late, he'll
+      never forgive us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She passed on down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Meecher dissatisfied but
+      irresolute. There was something about Sally which even in her pre-wealthy
+      days had always baffled Mrs. Meecher and cramped her style, and now that
+      she was rich and independent she inspired in the chatelaine of the
+      boarding-house an emotion which was almost awe. The front door had closed
+      before Mrs. Meecher had collected her faculties; and Ginger, pausing on
+      the sidewalk, drew a long breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know, you're wonderful!&rdquo; he said, regarding Sally with unconcealed
+      admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She accepted the compliment composedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we'll go and hunt up Fillmore,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But there's no need to
+      hurry, of course, really. We'll go for a walk first, and then call at the
+      Astor and make him give us lunch. I want to hear all about you. I've heard
+      something already. I met your cousin, Mr. Carmyle. He was on the train
+      coming from Detroit. Did you know that he was in America?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I've&mdash;er&mdash;rather lost touch with the Family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I gathered from Mr. Carmyle. And I feel hideously responsible. It was
+      all through me that all this happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it was. I made you what you are to-day&mdash;I hope I'm
+      satisfied&mdash;I dragged and dragged you down until the soul within you
+      died, so to speak. I know perfectly well that you wouldn't have dreamed of
+      savaging the Family as you seem to have done if it hadn't been for what I
+      said to you at Roville. Ginger, tell me, what did happen? I'm dying to
+      know. Mr. Carmyle said you insulted your uncle!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Donald. Yes, we did have a bit of a scrap, as a matter of fact. He made
+      me go out to dinner with him and we&mdash;er&mdash;sort of disagreed. To
+      start with, he wanted me to apologize to old Scrymgeour, and I rather gave
+      it a miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noble fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Scrymgeour?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, silly! You.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, ah!&rdquo; Ginger blushed. &ldquo;And then there was all that about the soup, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean, 'all that about the soup'? What about the soup? What
+      soup?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, things sort of hotted up a bit when the soup arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, the trouble seemed to start, as it were, when the waiter had
+      finished ladling out the mulligatawny. Thick soup, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know mulligatawny is a thick soup. Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my old uncle&mdash;I'm not blaming him, don't you know&mdash;more
+      his misfortune than his fault&mdash;I can see that now&mdash;but he's got
+      a heavy moustache. Like a walrus, rather, and he's a bit apt to inhale the
+      stuff through it. And I&mdash;well, I asked him not to. It was just a
+      suggestion, you know. He cut up fairly rough, and by the time the fish
+      came round we were more or less down on the mat chewing holes in one
+      another. My fault, probably. I wasn't feeling particularly well-disposed
+      towards the Family that night. I'd just had a talk with Bruce&mdash;my
+      cousin, you know&mdash;in Piccadilly, and that had rather got the wind up
+      me. Bruce always seems to get on my nerves a bit somehow and&mdash;Uncle
+      Donald asking me to dinner and all that. By the way, did you get the
+      books?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What books?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bruce said he wanted to send you some books. That was why I gave him your
+      address.&rdquo; Sally stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never sent me any books.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he said he was going to, and I had to tell him where to send them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally walked on, a little thoughtfully. She was not a vain girl, but it
+      was impossible not to perceive in the light of this fresh evidence that
+      Mr. Carmyle had made a journey of three thousand miles with the sole
+      object of renewing his acquaintance with her. It did not matter, of
+      course, but it was vaguely disturbing. No girl cares to be dogged by a man
+      she rather dislikes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on telling me about your uncle,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there's not much more to tell. I'd happened to get that wireless of
+      yours just before I started out to dinner with him, and I was more or less
+      feeling that I wasn't going to stand any rot from the Family. I'd got to
+      the fish course, hadn't I? Well, we managed to get through that somehow,
+      but we didn't survive the fillet steak. One thing seemed to lead to
+      another, and the show sort of bust up. He called me a good many things,
+      and I got a bit fed-up, and finally I told him I hadn't any more use for
+      the Family and was going to start out on my own. And&mdash;well, I did,
+      don't you know. And here I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally listened to this saga breathlessly. More than ever did she feel
+      responsible for her young protégé, and any faint qualms which she had
+      entertained as to the wisdom of transferring practically the whole of her
+      patrimony to the care of so erratic a financier as her brother vanished.
+      It was her plain duty to see that Ginger was started well in the race of
+      life, and Fillmore was going to come in uncommonly handy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll go to the Astor now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I'll introduce you to
+      Fillmore. He's a theatrical manager and he's sure to have something for
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's awfully good of you to bother about me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;I regard you as a grandson. Hail that cab, will
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X. SALLY IN THE SHADOWS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger Kemp
+      that a sort of golden age had set in. On all the frontiers of her little
+      kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each morning in a
+      world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most captious pessimist
+      could hardly have found anything in it to criticize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      True, Gerald was still a thousand miles away. Going to Chicago to
+      superintend the opening of &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo;; for Fillmore had acceded to
+      his friend Ike's suggestion in the matter of producing it first in
+      Chicago, and he had been called in by a distracted manager to revise the
+      work of a brother dramatist, whose comedy was in difficulties at one of
+      the theatres in that city; and this meant he would have to remain on the
+      spot for some time to come. It was disappointing, for Sally had been
+      looking forward to having him back in New York in a few days; but she
+      refused to allow herself to be depressed. Life as a whole was much too
+      satisfactory for that. Life indeed, in every other respect, seemed
+      perfect. Fillmore was going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; she had
+      found an apartment; her new hat suited her; and &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo; was a
+      tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore's account, was
+      paying little attention to anything except &ldquo;The Primrose Way.&rdquo; National
+      problems had ceased to interest the citizens. Local problems left them
+      cold. Their minds were riveted to the exclusion of all else on the problem
+      of how to secure seats. The production of the piece, according to
+      Fillmore, had been the most terrific experience that had come to stir
+      Chicago since the great fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally's
+      thinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger's future had been
+      solved. Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical
+      Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas)&mdash;Fillmore
+      would have made the title longer, only that was all that would go on the
+      brass plate&mdash;and was to be found daily in the outer office, his
+      duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening papers. What
+      exactly he was, even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he felt like the man at
+      the wheel, sometimes like a glorified office boy, and not so very
+      glorified at that. For the most part he had to prevent the mob rushing and
+      getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in the inner office
+      pondering great schemes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger's
+      mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchange for the fifty
+      dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertain about his
+      gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabled him to do it.
+      He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadays they were meeting
+      frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish her new apartment. In
+      this task, he spared no efforts. He said that it kept him in condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what I mean to say is,&rdquo; said Ginger, pausing in the act of carrying a
+      massive easy chair to the third spot which Sally had selected in the last
+      ten minutes, &ldquo;if I didn't sweat about a bit and help you after the way you
+      got me that job...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, desist,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but honestly...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the next room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I?&rdquo; Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and took a new grip.
+      &ldquo;Anything you say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silly! Of course not. The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom
+      and the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great lumbering chair in
+      them for? All the same, I believe the first we chose was the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back she goes, then, what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally reflected frowningly. This business of setting up house was causing
+      her much thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she decided. &ldquo;By the window is better.&rdquo; She looked at him
+      remorsefully. &ldquo;I'm giving you a lot of trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trouble!&rdquo; Ginger, accompanied by a chair, staggered across the room. &ldquo;The
+      way I look at it is this.&rdquo; He wiped a bead of perspiration from his
+      freckled forehead. &ldquo;You got me that job, and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right ho... Still, you did, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally sat down in the armchair and stretched herself. Watching Ginger work
+      had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly. It was
+      certainly beginning to look cosy. The pictures were up, the carpet down,
+      the furniture very neatly in order. For almost the first time in her life
+      she had the restful sensation of being at home. She had always longed,
+      during the past three years of boarding-house existence, for a settled
+      abode, a place where she could lock the door on herself and be alone. The
+      apartment was small, but it was undeniably a haven. She looked about her
+      and could see no flaw in it... except... She had a sudden sense of
+      something missing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Where's that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
+      the mantelpiece yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His exertions seemed to have brought the blood to Ginger's face. He was a
+      rich red. He inspected the mantelpiece narrowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. No photograph here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know there isn't. But it was there yesterday. Or was it? I know I meant
+      to put it there. Perhaps I forgot. It's the most beautiful thing you ever
+      saw. Not a bit like me; but what of that? They touch 'em up in the
+      dark-room, you know. I value it because it looks the way I should like to
+      look if I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've never had a beautiful photograph taken of myself,&rdquo; said Ginger,
+      solemnly, with gentle regret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cheer up!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't mind. I only mentioned...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;pardon my interrupting your remarks, which I know
+      are valuable, but this chair is&mdash;not&mdash;right! It ought to be
+      where it was at the beginning. Could you give your imitation of a
+      pack-mule just once more? And after that I'll make you some tea. If
+      there's any tea&mdash;or milk&mdash;or cups.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are cups all right. I know, because I smashed two the day before
+      yesterday. I'll nip round the corner for some milk, shall I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, please nip. All this hard work has taken it out of me terribly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Over the tea-table Sally became inquisitive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I can't understand about this job of yours. Ginger&mdash;which as
+      you are just about to observe, I was noble enough to secure for you&mdash;is
+      the amount of leisure that seems to go with it. How is it that you are
+      able to spend your valuable time&mdash;Fillmore's valuable time, rather&mdash;juggling
+      with my furniture every day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I can usually get off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But oughtn't you to be at your post doing&mdash;whatever it is you do?
+      What do you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I sort of mess about, you know.&rdquo; He pondered. &ldquo;I interview divers
+      blighters and tell 'em your brother is out and take their names and
+      addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Fillmore consult you much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He lets me read some of the plays that are sent in. Awful tosh most of
+      them. Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a treat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see some special act, you know. To report on it. In case he might want
+      to use it for this revue of his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which revue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather. A whacking
+      big affair. Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;my goodness!&rdquo; Sally was alarmed. It was just like Fillmore, she
+      felt, to go branching out into these expensive schemes when he ought to be
+      moving warily and trying to consolidate the small success he had had. All
+      his life he had thought in millions where the prudent man would have been
+      content with hundreds. An inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled
+      eternally within him. &ldquo;That's rather ambitious,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Ambitious sort of cove, your brother. Quite the Napoleon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall have to talk to him,&rdquo; said Sally decidedly. She was annoyed with
+      Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
+      peaceful and happy and prosperous and no anxiety anywhere, till he had
+      spoiled things. Now she would have to start worrying again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; argued Ginger, &ldquo;there's money in revues. Over in London
+      fellows make pots out of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It won't do,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And I'll tell you another thing that won't do.
+      This armchair. Of course it ought to be over by the window. You can see
+      that yourself, can't you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely!&rdquo; said Ginger, patiently preparing for action once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's anxiety with regard to her ebullient brother was not lessened by
+      the receipt shortly afterwards of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Have you been feeding Fillmore meat?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      the telegram ran: and, while Sally could not have claimed that she
+      completely understood it, there was a sinister suggestion about the
+      message which decided her to wait no longer before making investigations.
+      She tore herself away from the joys of furnishing and went round to the
+      headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.
+      (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas) without delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger, she discovered on arrival, was absent from his customary post, his
+      place in the outer office being taken by a lad of tender years and pimply
+      exterior, who thawed and cast off a proud reserve on hearing Sally's name,
+      and told her to walk right in. Sally walked right in, and found Fillmore
+      with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared to be
+      costume-designs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Sally!&rdquo; he said in the distrait, tired voice which speaks of vast
+      preoccupations. Prosperity was still putting in its silent, deadly work on
+      the Hope of the American Theatre. What, even at as late an epoch as the
+      return from Detroit, had been merely a smooth fullness around the angle of
+      the jaw was now frankly and without disguise a double chin. He was wearing
+      a new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. &ldquo;I am rather busy,&rdquo; he went on.
+      &ldquo;Always glad to see you, but I am rather busy. I have a hundred things to
+      attend to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, attend to me. That'll only make a hundred and one. Fill, what's all
+      this I hear about a revue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore looked as like a small boy caught in the act of stealing jam as
+      it is possible for a great theatrical manager to look. He had been
+      wondering in his darker moments what Sally would say about that project
+      when she heard of it, and he had hoped that she would not hear of it until
+      all the preparations were so complete that interference would be
+      impossible. He was extremely fond of Sally, but there was, he knew, a
+      lamentable vein of caution in her make-up which might lead her to
+      criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry on if women are buzzing
+      round criticizing all the time? He picked up a pen and put it down;
+      buttoned his waistcoat and unbuttoned it; and scratched his ear with one
+      of the costume-designs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, the revue!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no good saying 'Oh yes'! You know perfectly well it's a crazy idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really... these business matters... this interference...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to run your affairs for you, Fill, but that money of mine
+      does make me a sort of partner, I suppose, and I think I have a right to
+      raise a loud yell of agony when I see you risking it on a...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; said Fillmore loftily, looking happier. &ldquo;Let me explain.
+      Women never understand business matters. Your money is tied up exclusively
+      in 'The Primrose Way,' which, as you know, is a tremendous success. You
+      have nothing whatever to worry about as regards any new production I may
+      make.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not worrying about the money. I'm worrying about you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be alarmed about me. I'm all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You aren't all right. You've no business, when you've only just got
+      started as a manager, to be rushing into an enormous production like this.
+      You can't afford it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear child, as I said before, women cannot understand these things. A
+      man in my position can always command money for a new venture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say you have found somebody silly enough to put up money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. I don't know that there is any secret about it. Your friend,
+      Mr. Carmyle, has taken an interest in some of my forthcoming productions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; Sally had been disturbed before, but she was aghast now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was something she had never anticipated. Bruce Carmyle seemed to be
+      creeping into her life like an advancing tide. There appeared to be no
+      eluding him. Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do nothing
+      but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's quite all right,&rdquo; he assured her. &ldquo;He's a very rich man. Large
+      private means, besides his big income. Even if anything goes wrong...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't that. It's...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hopelessness of explaining to Fillmore stopped Sally. And while she
+      was chafing at this new complication which had come to upset the orderly
+      routine of her life there was an outburst of voices in the other office.
+      Ginger's understudy seemed to be endeavouring to convince somebody that
+      the Big Chief was engaged and not to be intruded upon. In this he was
+      unsuccessful, for the door opened tempestuously and Miss Winch sailed in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore, you poor nut,&rdquo; said Miss Winch, for though she might wrap up
+      her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications, when it
+      came to the spoken word she was directness itself, &ldquo;stop picking straws in
+      your hair and listen to me. You're dippy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The last time Sally had seen Fillmore's fiancée, she had been impressed by
+      her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch, in Detroit, had seemed a girl whom
+      nothing could ruffle. That she had lapsed now from this serene placidity,
+      struck Sally as ominous. Slightly though she knew her, she felt that it
+      could be no ordinary happening that had so animated her
+      sister-in-law-to-be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Here you are!&rdquo; said Fillmore. He had started to his feet indignantly
+      at the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in its den, but calm had
+      returned when he saw who the intruder was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, here I am!&rdquo; Miss Winch dropped despairingly into a swivel-chair, and
+      endeavoured to restore herself with a stick of chewing-gum. &ldquo;Fillmore,
+      darling, you're the sweetest thing on earth, and I love you, but on
+      present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale and they'd
+      give you the royal suite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear girl...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo; demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've just been telling him,&rdquo; said Sally, welcoming this ally, &ldquo;I think
+      it's absurd at this stage of things for him to put on an enormous
+      revue...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Revue?&rdquo; Miss Winch stopped in the act of gnawing her gum. &ldquo;What revue?&rdquo;
+       She flung up her arms. &ldquo;I shall have to swallow this gum,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You
+      can't chew with your head going round. Are you putting on a revue too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded
+      look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, certainly,&rdquo; he replied in a tone of some feverishness. &ldquo;I wish
+      you girls would leave me to manage...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dippy!&rdquo; said Miss Winch once more. &ldquo;Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot,
+      Matteawan.&rdquo; She swivelled round to Sally again. &ldquo;Say, listen! This boy
+      must be stopped. We must form a gang in his best interests and get him put
+      away. What do you think he proposes doing? I'll give you three guesses.
+      Oh, what's the use? You'd never hit it. This poor wandering lad has got it
+      all fixed up to star me&mdash;me&mdash;in a new show!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved it
+      protestingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have used my own judgment...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir!&rdquo; proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption. &ldquo;That's
+      what he's planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm sitting
+      peacefully in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a few cents' worth
+      of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper, when the telephone rings.
+      Gentleman below would like to see me. Oh, ask him to wait. Business of
+      flinging on a few clothes. Down in elevator. Bright sunrise effects in
+      lobby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What on earth do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gentleman had a head of red hair which had to be seen to be
+      believed,&rdquo; explained Miss Winch. &ldquo;Lit up the lobby. Management had
+      switched off all the electrics for sake of economy. An Englishman he was.
+      Nice fellow. Named Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is Ginger in Chicago?&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I wondered why he wasn't on his
+      little chair in the outer office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent Kemp to Chicago,&rdquo; said Fillmore, &ldquo;to have a look at the show. It
+      is my policy, if I am unable to pay periodical visits myself, to send a
+      representative...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Save it up for the long winter evenings,&rdquo; advised Miss Winch, cutting in
+      on this statement of managerial tactics. &ldquo;Mr. Kemp may have been there to
+      look at the show, but his chief reason for coming was to tell me to beat
+      it back to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted me on the
+      spot, he told me, so that I could sit around in this office here,
+      interviewing my supporting company. Me! Can you or can you not,&rdquo; inquired
+      Miss Winch frankly, &ldquo;tie it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo; Sally hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say it! I know it just as well as you do. It's too sad for words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys,&rdquo; said Fillmore
+      reproachfully. &ldquo;I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical
+      matters&mdash;I have seen a good deal of acting&mdash;and I assure you
+      that as a character-actress you...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Winch rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically, and
+      sat down again. She produced another stick of chewing-gum, then shook her
+      head and replaced it in her bag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a darling old thing to talk like that,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I hate to
+      wake you out of your daydreams, but, honestly, Fillmore, dear, do just
+      step out of the padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I know
+      exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean. You took Elsa
+      Doland out of a minor part and made her a star overnight. She goes to
+      Chicago, and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As a matter of
+      fact,&rdquo; she said to Sally with enthusiasm, for hers was an honest and
+      generous nature, &ldquo;you can't realize, not having seen her play there, what
+      an amazing hit she has made. She really is a sensation. Everybody says
+      she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very well, then, what does
+      Fillmore do? The poor fish claps his hand to his forehead and cries
+      'Gadzooks! An idea! I've done it before, I'll do it again. I'm the fellow
+      who can make a star out of anything.' And he picks on me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear girl...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, the flaw in the scheme is this. Elsa is a genius, and if he hadn't
+      made her a star somebody else would have done. But little Gladys? That's
+      something else again.&rdquo; She turned to Sally. &ldquo;You've seen me in action, and
+      let me tell you you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's part, with a
+      tray to carry on in act one and a couple of 'Yes, madam's' in act two, and
+      I'm there! Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it comes to saying 'Yes,
+      madam,' and I'm willing to back myself for gold, notes, or lima beans
+      against Sarah Bernhardt as a tray-carrier. But there I finish. That lets
+      me out. And anybody who thinks otherwise is going to lose a lot of money.
+      Between ourselves the only thing I can do really well is to cook...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Gladys!&rdquo; cried Fillmore revolted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm a heaven-born cook, and I don't mind notifying the world to that
+      effect. I can cook a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
+      mother for it. Also my English pork-pies! One of these days I'll take an
+      afternoon off and assemble one for you. You'd be surprised! But acting&mdash;no.
+      I can't do it, and I don't want to do it. I only went on the stage for
+      fun, and my idea of fun isn't to plough through a star part with all the
+      critics waving their axes in the front row, and me knowing all the time
+      that it's taking money out of Fillmore's bankroll that ought to be going
+      towards buying the little home with stationary wash-tubs... Well, that's
+      that, Fillmore, old darling. I thought I'd just mention it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally could not help being sorry for Fillmore. He was sitting with his
+      chin on his hands, staring moodily before him&mdash;Napoleon at Elba. It
+      was plain that this project of taking Miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
+      and hurling her to the heights had been very near his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that's how you feel,&rdquo; he said in a stricken voice, &ldquo;there is nothing
+      more to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes there is. We will now talk about this revue of yours. It's off!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore bounded to his feet; he thumped the desk with a well-nourished
+      fist. A man can stand just so much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not off! Great heavens! It's too much! I will not put up with this
+      interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied and hampered.
+      Here am I, a man of broad vision and... and... broad vision... I form my
+      plans... my plans... I form them... I shape my schemes... and what
+      happens? A horde of girls flock into my private office while I am
+      endeavouring to concentrate... and concentrate... I won't stand it.
+      Advice, yes. Interference, no. I... I... I... and kindly remember that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door closed with a bang. A fainter detonation announced the whirlwind
+      passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down the corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally looked at Miss Winch, stunned. A roused and militant Fillmore was
+      new to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Winch took out the stick of chewing-gum again and unwrapped it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't he cute!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I hope he doesn't get the soft kind,&rdquo; she
+      murmured, chewing reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The soft kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll be back soon with a box of candy,&rdquo; explained Miss Winch, &ldquo;and he
+      will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the
+      other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's
+      beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard
+      work to get that boy down to earth again.&rdquo; Miss Winch heaved a gentle
+      sigh. &ldquo;I should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to pay
+      the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out.&rdquo; She bit
+      meditatively on her chewing-gum. &ldquo;Not,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that it matters. I'd be
+      just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore was
+      there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him.&rdquo; Her freckled face
+      glowed. &ldquo;He grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that I
+      keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's the
+      most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love about him.
+      That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps always make
+      the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump. Tap his forehead
+      first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the unhappy marriages
+      come from the husband having brains. What good are brains to a man? They
+      only unsettle him.&rdquo; She broke off and scrutinized Sally closely. &ldquo;Say,
+      what do you do with your skin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Miss Winch enviously, &ldquo;I wish I could train my darned fool of
+      a complexion to get that way. Freckles are the devil. When I was eight I
+      had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been adding to it
+      right along. Some folks say lemon-juice'll cure 'em. Mine lap up all I
+      give 'em and ask for more. There's only one way of getting rid of
+      freckles, and that is to saw the head off at the neck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why do you want to get rid of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband's
+      love, doesn't enjoy going about looking like something out of a dime
+      museum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How absurd! Fillmore worships freckles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he tell you so?&rdquo; asked Miss Winch eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in so many words, but you can see it in his eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I will
+      say that. And, what's more, I don't think feminine loveliness means much
+      to Fillmore, or he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is calculated to
+      give a girl a jar, you must admit, when she picks up a magazine and reads
+      an advertisement of a face-cream beginning, 'Your husband is growing cold
+      to you. Can you blame him? Have you really tried to cure those unsightly
+      blemishes?'&mdash;meaning what I've got. Still, I haven't noticed Fillmore
+      growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a subdued Sally who received Ginger when he called at her apartment
+      a few days later on his return from Chicago. It seemed to her, thinking
+      over the recent scene, that matters were even worse than she had feared.
+      This absurd revue, which she had looked on as a mere isolated outbreak of
+      foolishness, was, it would appear, only a specimen of the sort of thing
+      her misguided brother proposed to do, a sample selected at random from a
+      wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Fillmore, there was no longer any room
+      for doubt, was preparing to express his great soul on a vast scale. And
+      she could not dissuade him. A humiliating thought. She had grown so
+      accustomed through the years to being the dominating mind that this revolt
+      from her authority made her feel helpless and inadequate. Her
+      self-confidence was shaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Bruce Carmyle was financing him... It was illogical, but Sally could
+      not help feeling that when&mdash;she had not the optimism to say &ldquo;if&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      lost his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him, as if the
+      disaster had been her fault. She disliked, with a whole-hearted intensity,
+      the thought of being under an obligation to Mr. Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger said he had looked in to inspect the furniture on the chance that
+      Sally might want it shifted again: but Sally had no criticisms to make on
+      that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She sat Ginger down in
+      the armchair and started to pour out her troubles. It soothed her to talk
+      to him. In a world which had somehow become chaotic again after an all too
+      brief period of peace, he was solid and consoling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't worry,&rdquo; observed Ginger with Winch-like calm, when she had
+      finished drawing for him the picture of a Fillmore rampant against a
+      background of expensive revues. Sally nearly shook him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all very well to tell me not to worry,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;How can I help
+      worrying? Fillmore's simply a baby, and he's just playing the fool. He has
+      lost his head completely. And I can't stop him! That is the awful part of
+      it. I used to be able to look him in the eye, and he would wag his tail
+      and crawl back into his basket, but now I seem to have no influence at all
+      over him. He just snorts and goes on running round in circles, breathing
+      fire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger did not abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you are making too much of all this, you know. I mean to say,
+      it's quite likely he's found some mug... what I mean is, it's just
+      possible that your brother isn't standing the entire racket himself.
+      Perhaps some rich Johnnie has breezed along with a pot of money. It often
+      happens like that, you know. You read in the paper that some manager or
+      other is putting on some show or other, when really the chap who's
+      actually supplying the pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in the
+      background.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just what has happened, and it makes it worse than ever. Fillmore
+      tells me that your cousin, Mr. Carmyle, is providing the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This did interest Ginger. He sat up with a jerk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I say!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sally, still agitated but pleased that she had at last shaken
+      him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger was scowling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a bit off,&rdquo; he observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor do I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what I think?&rdquo; said Ginger, ever a man of plain speech and a
+      reckless plunger into delicate subjects. &ldquo;The blighter's in love with
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally flushed. After examining the evidence before her, she had reached
+      the same conclusion in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed her
+      to hear the thing put into bald words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know Bruce,&rdquo; continued Ginger, &ldquo;and, believe me, he isn't the sort of
+      cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly good motive. Of course,
+      he's got tons of money. His old guvnor was the Carmyle of Carmyle, Brent
+      &amp; Co.&mdash;coal mines up in Wales, and all that sort of thing&mdash;and
+      I suppose he must have left Bruce something like half a million. No need
+      for the fellow to have worked at all, if he hadn't wanted to. As far as
+      having the stuff goes, he's in a position to back all the shows he wants
+      to. But the point is, it's right out of his line. He doesn't do that sort
+      of thing. Not a drop of sporting blood in the chap. Why I've known him
+      stick the whole family on to me just because it got noised about that I'd
+      dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National. If he's really brought
+      himself to the point of shelling out on a risky proposition like a show,
+      it means something, take my word for it. And I don't see what else it can
+      mean except... well, I mean to say, is it likely that he's doing it simply
+      to make your brother look on him as a good egg and a pal, and all that
+      sort of thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it's not,&rdquo; agreed Sally. &ldquo;But don't let's talk about it any more.
+      Tell me all about your trip to Chicago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don't see how it
+      matters to you one way or the other. You're engaged to another fellow, and
+      when Bruce rolls up and says: 'What about it?' you've simply to tell him
+      that the shot isn't on the board and will he kindly melt away. Then you
+      hand him his hat and out he goes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gave a troubled laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl enjoys
+      that sort of thing? Oh, what's the use of talking about it? It's horrible,
+      and no amount of arguing will make it anything else. Do let's change the
+      subject. How did you like Chicago?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all right. Rather a grubby sort of place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I've always heard. But you ought not to mind that, being a Londoner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I didn't mind it. As a matter of fact, I had rather a good time. Saw
+      one or two shows, you know. Got in on my face as your brother's
+      representative, which was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy how you
+      run into people when you move about, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
+      shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chap I hadn't seen for years. Was at school with him, as a matter of
+      fact. Fellow named Foster. But I expect you know him, too, don't you? By
+      name, at any rate. He wrote your brother's show.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's heart jumped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Did you meet Gerald&mdash;Foster?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ran into him one night at the theatre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you were really at school with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He was in the footer team with me my last year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he a scrum-half, too?&rdquo; asked Sally, dimpling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger looked shocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't have two scrum-halves in a team,&rdquo; he said, pained at this
+      ignorance on a vital matter. &ldquo;The scrum-half is the half who works the
+      scrum and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you told me that at Roville. What was Gerald&mdash;Mr. Foster then?
+      A six and seven-eighths, or something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a wing-three,&rdquo; said Ginger with a gravity befitting his theme.
+      &ldquo;Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve. But he would not learn to give
+      the reverse pass inside to the centre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ghastly!&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If,&rdquo; said Ginger earnestly, &ldquo;a wing's bottled up by his wing and the
+      back, the only thing he can do, if he doesn't want to be bundled into
+      touch, is to give the reverse pass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;If I've thought that once, I've thought it a
+      hundred times. How nice it must have been for you meeting again. I suppose
+      you had all sorts of things to talk about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not such a frightful lot. We were never very thick. You see, this chap
+      Foster was by way of being a bit of a worm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A tick,&rdquo; explained Ginger. &ldquo;A rotter. He was pretty generally barred at
+      school. Personally, I never had any use for him at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stiffened. She had liked Ginger up to that moment, and later on, no
+      doubt, she would resume her liking for him: but in the immediate moment
+      which followed these words she found herself regarding him with stormy
+      hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like that about Gerald?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without a care in the world,
+      proceeded to develop his theme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a rummy thing about school. Generally, if a fellow's good at games&mdash;in
+      the cricket team or the footer team and so forth&mdash;he can hardly help
+      being fairly popular. But this blighter Foster somehow&mdash;nobody seemed
+      very keen on him. Of course, he had a few of his own pals, but most of the
+      chaps rather gave him a miss. It may have been because he was a bit
+      sidey... had rather an edge on him, you know... Personally, the reason I
+      barred him was because he wasn't straight. You didn't notice it if you
+      weren't thrown a goodish bit with him, of course, but he and I were in the
+      same house, and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally managed to control her voice, though it shook a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ought to tell you,&rdquo; she said, and her tone would have warned him had he
+      been less occupied, &ldquo;that Mr. Foster is a great friend of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Ginger was intent on the lighting of his cigarette, a delicate
+      operation with the breeze blowing in through the open window. His head was
+      bent, and he had formed his hands into a protective framework which half
+      hid his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you take my tip,&rdquo; he mumbled, &ldquo;you'll drop him. He's a wrong 'un.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke with the absent-minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sally could
+      keep the conflagration under no longer. She was aflame from head to foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may interest you to know,&rdquo; she said, shooting the words out like
+      bullets from between clenched teeth, &ldquo;that Gerald Foster is the man I am
+      engaged to marry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands. Amazement was in his
+      eyes, and a sort of horror. The cigarette hung limply from his mouth. He
+      did not speak, but sat looking at her, dazed. Then the match burnt his
+      fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The sharp sting of it seemed to
+      wake him. He blinked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're joking,&rdquo; he said, feebly. There was a note of wistfulness in his
+      voice. &ldquo;It isn't true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally kicked the leg of her chair irritably. She read insolent disapproval
+      into the words. He was daring to criticize...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it's true...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But...&rdquo; A look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face. He
+      hesitated. Then, with the air of a man bracing himself to a dreadful, but
+      unavoidable, ordeal, he went on. He spoke gruffly, and his eyes, which had
+      been fixed on Sally's, wandered down to the match on the carpet. It was
+      still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot on it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foster's married,&rdquo; he said shortly. &ldquo;He was married the day before I left
+      Chicago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over the
+      room like a living presence, even the noises in the street had ceased, as
+      though what he had said had been a spell cutting Sally and himself off
+      from the outer world. Only the little clock on the mantelpiece ticked&mdash;ticked&mdash;ticked,
+      like a heart beating fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared straight before him, conscious of a strange rigidity. He felt
+      incapable of movement, as he had sometimes felt in nightmares; and not for
+      all the wealth of America could he have raised his eyes just then to
+      Sally's face. He could see her hands. They had tightened on the arm of the
+      chair. The knuckles were white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was blaming himself bitterly now for his oafish clumsiness in blurting
+      out the news so abruptly. And yet, curiously, in his remorse there was
+      something of elation. Never before had he felt so near to her. It was as
+      though a barrier that had been between them had fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something moved... It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing. The fingers
+      loosened their grip, tightened again, then, as if reluctantly relaxed once
+      more. The blood flowed back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your cigarette's out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger started violently. Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
+      had struck him like a blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thanks!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He forced himself to light another match. It sputtered noisily in the
+      stillness. He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically. For an instant he had seen
+      Sally's face, white-cheeked and bright-eyed, the chin tilted like a flag
+      flying over a stricken field. His mood changed. All his emotions had
+      crystallized into a dull, futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man a
+      thousand miles away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally spoke again. Her voice sounded small and far off, an odd flatness in
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger threw his cigarette out of the window. He was shocked to find that
+      he was smoking. Nothing could have been farther from his intention than to
+      smoke. He nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom has he married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger coughed. Something was sticking in his throat, and speech was
+      difficult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A girl called Doland.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Elsa Doland?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Elsa Doland.&rdquo; Sally drummed with her fingers on the arm of the chair.
+      &ldquo;Oh, Elsa Doland?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was silence again. The little clock ticked fussily on the
+      mantelpiece. Out in the street automobile horns were blowing. From
+      somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated train.
+      Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious, unreal sense
+      of novelty. She felt as though she had been projected into another world
+      where everything was new and strange and horrible&mdash;everything except
+      Ginger. About him, in the mere sight of him, there was something known and
+      heartening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was behaving
+      extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out of herself and to be
+      regarding the scene from outside, regarding it coolly and critically; and
+      it was plain to her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
+      bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy. He
+      had said nothing and he was not looking at her. And Sally felt that
+      sympathy just now would be torture, and that she could not have borne to
+      be looked at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger was wonderful. In that curious, detached spirit that had come upon
+      her, she examined him impartially, and gratitude welled up from the very
+      depths of her. There he sat, saying nothing and doing nothing, as if he
+      knew that all she needed, the only thing that could keep her sane in this
+      world of nightmare, was the sight of that dear, flaming head of his that
+      made her feel that the world had not slipped away from her altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger did not move. The room had grown almost dark now. A spear of light
+      from a street lamp shone in through the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally got up abruptly. Slowly, gradually, inch by inch, the great
+      suffocating cloud which had been crushing her had lifted. She felt alive
+      again. Her black hour had gone, and she was back in the world of living
+      things once more. She was afire with a fierce, tearing pain that tormented
+      her almost beyond endurance, but dimly she sensed the fact that she had
+      passed through something that was worse than pain, and, with Ginger's
+      stolid presence to aid her, had passed triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go and have dinner, Ginger,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You must be starving.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger came to life like a courtier in the palace of the Sleeping Beauty.
+      He shook himself, and rose stiffly from his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Not a bit, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally switched on the light and set him blinking. She could bear to be
+      looked at now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go and dine,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Dine lavishly and luxuriously. You've certainly
+      earned...&rdquo; Her voice faltered for a moment. She held out her hand.
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; she said shakily, &ldquo;I... Ginger, you're a pal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had gone. Sally sat down and began to cry. Then she dried her eyes
+      in a business-like manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Miss Nicholas!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You couldn't have done that an hour
+      ago... We will now boil you an egg for your dinner and see how that suits
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI. SALLY RUNS AWAY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      If Ginger Kemp had been asked to enumerate his good qualities, it is not
+      probable that he would have drawn up a very lengthy list. He might have
+      started by claiming for himself the virtue of meaning well, but after that
+      he would have had to chew the pencil in prolonged meditation. And, even if
+      he could eventually have added one or two further items to the catalogue,
+      tact and delicacy of feeling would not have been among them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, by staying away from Sally during the next few days he showed
+      considerable delicacy. It was not easy to stay away from her, but he
+      forced himself to do so. He argued from his own tastes, and was strongly
+      of opinion that in times of travail, solitude was what the sufferer most
+      desired. In his time he, too, had had what he would have described as
+      nasty jars, and on these occasions all he had asked was to be allowed to
+      sit and think things over and fight his battle out by himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By Saturday, however, he had come to the conclusion that some form of
+      action might now be taken. Saturday was rather a good day for picking up
+      the threads again. He had not to go to the office, and, what was still
+      more to the point, he had just drawn his week's salary. Mrs. Meecher had
+      deftly taken a certain amount of this off him, but enough remained to
+      enable him to attempt consolation on a fairly princely scale. There
+      presented itself to him as a judicious move the idea of hiring a car and
+      taking Sally out to dinner at one of the road-houses he had heard about up
+      the Boston Post Road. He examined the scheme. The more he looked at it,
+      the better it seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was helped to this decision by the extraordinary perfection of the
+      weather. The weather of late had been a revelation to Ginger. It was his
+      first experience of America's Indian Summer, and it had quite overcome
+      him. As he stood on the roof of Mrs. Meecher's establishment on the
+      Saturday morning, thrilled by the velvet wonder of the sunshine, it seemed
+      to him that the only possible way of passing such a day was to take Sally
+      for a ride in an open car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Maison Meecher was a lofty building on one of the side-streets at the
+      lower end of the avenue. From its roof, after you had worked your way
+      through the groves of washing which hung limply from the clothes-line, you
+      could see many things of interest. To the left lay Washington Square, full
+      of somnolent Italians and roller-skating children; to the right was a
+      spectacle which never failed to intrigue Ginger, the high smoke-stacks of
+      a Cunard liner moving slowly down the river, sticking up over the
+      house-tops as if the boat was travelling down Ninth Avenue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To-day there were four of these funnels, causing Ginger to deduce the
+      Mauritania. As the boat on which he had come over from England, the
+      Mauritania had a sentimental interest for him. He stood watching her
+      stately progress till the higher buildings farther down the town shut her
+      from his sight; then picked his way through the washing and went down to
+      his room to get his hat. A quarter of an hour later he was in the hall-way
+      of Sally's apartment house, gazing with ill-concealed disgust at the
+      serge-clad back of his cousin Mr. Carmyle, who was engaged in conversation
+      with a gentleman in overalls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No care-free prospector, singing his way through the Mojave Desert and
+      suddenly finding himself confronted by a rattlesnake, could have
+      experienced so abrupt a change of mood as did Ginger at this revolting
+      spectacle. Even in their native Piccadilly it had been unpleasant to run
+      into Mr. Carmyle. To find him here now was nothing short of nauseating.
+      Only one thing could have brought him to this place. Obviously, he must
+      have come to see Sally; and with a sudden sinking of the heart Ginger
+      remembered the shiny, expensive automobile which he had seen waiting at
+      the door. He, it was clear, was not the only person to whom the idea had
+      occurred of taking Sally for a drive on this golden day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was still standing there when Mr. Carmyle swung round with a frown on
+      his dark face which seemed to say that he had not found the janitor's
+      conversation entertaining. The sight of Ginger plainly did nothing to
+      lighten his gloom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; said Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncomfortable silence followed these civilities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you come to see Miss Nicholas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She isn't here,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle, and the fact that he had found someone
+      to share the bad news, seemed to cheer him a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Apparently...&rdquo; Bruce Carmyle's scowl betrayed that resentment which a
+      well-balanced man cannot but feel at the unreasonableness of others. &ldquo;...
+      Apparently, for some extraordinary reason, she has taken it into her head
+      to dash over to England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger tottered. The unexpectedness of the blow was crushing. He followed
+      his cousin out into the sunshine in a sort of dream. Bruce Carmyle was
+      addressing the driver of the expensive automobile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I find I shall not want the car. You can take it back to the garage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The chauffeur, a moody man, opened one half-closed eye and spat
+      cautiously. It was the way Rockefeller would have spat when approaching
+      the crisis of some delicate financial negotiation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll have to pay just the same,&rdquo; he observed, opening his other eye to
+      lend emphasis to the words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I shall pay,&rdquo; snapped Mr. Carmyle, irritably. &ldquo;How much is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Money passed. The car rolled off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to England?&rdquo; said Ginger, dizzily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, gone to England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How the devil do I know why?&rdquo; Bruce Carmyle would have found his best
+      friend trying at this moment. Gaping Ginger gave him almost a physical
+      pain. &ldquo;All I know is what the janitor told me, that she sailed on the
+      Mauretania this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tragic irony of this overcame Ginger. That he should have stood on the
+      roof, calmly watching the boat down the river...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded absently to Mr. Carmyle and walked off. He had no further
+      remarks to make. The warmth had gone out of the sunshine and all interest
+      had departed from his life. He felt dull, listless, at a loose end. Not
+      even the thought that his cousin, a careful man with his money, had had to
+      pay a day's hire for a car which he could not use brought him any balm. He
+      loafed aimlessly about the streets. He wandered in the Park and out again.
+      The Park bored him. The streets bored him. The whole city bored him. A
+      city without Sally in it was a drab, futile city, and nothing that the sun
+      could do to brighten it could make it otherwise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Night came at last, and with it a letter. It was the first even passably
+      pleasant thing that had happened to Ginger in the whole of this dreary and
+      unprofitable day: for the envelope bore the crest of the good ship
+      Mauretania. He snatched it covetously from the letter-rack, and carried it
+      upstairs to his room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Very few of the rooms at Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house struck any note of
+      luxury. Mrs. Meecher was not one of your fashionable interior decorators.
+      She considered that when she had added a Morris chair to the essentials
+      which make up a bedroom, she had gone as far in the direction of pomp as
+      any guest at seven-and-a-half per could expect her to go. As a rule, the
+      severity of his surroundings afflicted Ginger with a touch of gloom when
+      he went to bed; but to-night&mdash;such is the magic of a letter from the
+      right person&mdash;he was uplifted and almost gay. There are moments when
+      even illuminated texts over the wash-stand cannot wholly quell us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing of haste and much of ceremony in Ginger's method of
+      approaching the perusal of his correspondence. He bore himself after the
+      manner of a small boy in the presence of unexpected ice-cream, gloating
+      for awhile before embarking on the treat, anxious to make it last out. His
+      first move was to feel in the breast-pocket of his coat and produce the
+      photograph of Sally which he had feloniously removed from her apartment.
+      At this he looked long and earnestly before propping it up within easy
+      reach against his basin, to be handy, if required, for purposes of
+      reference. He then took off his coat, collar, and shoes, filled and lit a
+      pipe, placed pouch and matches on the arm of the Morris chair, and drew
+      that chair up so that he could sit with his feet on the bed. Having
+      manoeuvred himself into a position of ease, he lit his pipe again and took
+      up the letter. He looked at the crest, the handwriting of the address, and
+      the postmark. He weighed it in his hand. It was a bulky letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took Sally's photograph from the wash-stand and scrutinized it once
+      more. Then he lit his pipe again, and, finally, wriggling himself into the
+      depths of the chair, opened the envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having read so far, Ginger found it necessary to take up the photograph
+      and study it with an even greater intentness than before. He gazed at it
+      for many minutes, then laid it down and lit his pipe again. Then he went
+      on with the letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, dear&mdash;I'm afraid this address is going to give you rather a
+      shock, and I'm feeling very guilty. I'm running away, and I haven't even
+      stopped to say good-bye. I can't help it. I know it's weak and cowardly,
+      but I simply can't help it. I stood it for a day or two, and then I saw
+      that it was no good. (Thank you for leaving me alone and not coming round
+      to see me. Nobody else but you would have done that. But then, nobody ever
+      has been or ever could be so understanding as you.)&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger found himself compelled at this point to look at the photograph
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was too much in New York to remind me. That's the worst of being
+      happy in a place. When things go wrong you find there are too many ghosts
+      about. I just couldn't stand it. I tried, but I couldn't. I'm going away
+      to get cured&mdash;if I can. Mr. Faucitt is over in England, and when I
+      went down to Mrs. Meecher for my letters, I found one from him. His
+      brother is dead, you know, and he has inherited, of all things, a
+      fashionable dress-making place in Regent Street. His brother was Laurette
+      et Cie. I suppose he will sell the business later on, but, just at
+      present, the poor old dear is apparently quite bewildered and that doesn't
+      seem to have occurred to him. He kept saying in his letter how much he
+      wished I was with him, to help him, and I was tempted and ran. Anything to
+      get away from the ghosts and have something to do. I don't suppose I shall
+      feel much better in England, but, at least, every street corner won't have
+      associations. Don't ever be happy anywhere, Ginger. It's too big a risk,
+      much too big a risk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a letter from Elsa Doland, too. Bubbling over with affection.
+      We had always been tremendous friends. Of course, she never knew anything
+      about my being engaged to Gerald. I lent Fillmore the money to buy that
+      piece, which gave Elsa her first big chance, and so she's very grateful.
+      She says, if ever she gets the opportunity of doing me a good turn...
+      Aren't things muddled?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there was a letter from Gerald. I was expecting one, of course,
+      but... what would you have done, Ginger? Would you have read it? I sat
+      with it in front of me for an hour, I should think, just looking at the
+      envelope, and then... You see, what was the use? I could guess exactly the
+      sort of thing that would be in it, and reading it would only have hurt a
+      lot more. The thing was done, so why bother about explanations? What good
+      are explanations, anyway? They don't help. They don't do anything... I
+      burned it, Ginger. The last letter I shall ever get from him. I made a
+      bonfire on the bathroom floor, and it smouldered and went brown, and then
+      flared a little, and every now and then I lit another match and kept it
+      burning, and at last it was just black ashes and a stain on the tiles.
+      Just a mess!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, burn this letter, too. I'm pouring out all the poison to you,
+      hoping it will make me feel better. You don't mind, do you? But I know you
+      don't. If ever anybody had a real pal...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a dreadful thing, fascination, Ginger. It grips you and you are
+      helpless. One can be so sensible and reasonable about other people's love
+      affairs. When I was working at the dance place I told you about there was
+      a girl who fell in love with the most awful little beast. He had a mean
+      mouth and shiny black hair brushed straight back, and anybody would have
+      seen what he was. But this girl wouldn't listen to a word. I talked to her
+      by the hour. It makes me smile now when I think how sensible and
+      level-headed I was. But she wouldn't listen. In some mysterious way this
+      was the man she wanted, and, of course, everything happened that one knew
+      would happen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If one could manage one's own life as well as one can manage other
+      people's! If all this wretched thing of mine had happened to some other
+      girl, how beautifully I could have proved that it was the best thing that
+      could have happened, and that a man who could behave as Gerald has done
+      wasn't worth worrying about. I can just hear myself. But, you see,
+      whatever he has done, Gerald is still Gerald and Sally is still Sally and,
+      however much I argue, I can't get away from that. All I can do is to come
+      howling to my redheaded pal, when I know just as well as he does that a
+      girl of any spirit would be dignified and keep her troubles to herself and
+      be much too proud to let anyone know that she was hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Proud! That's the real trouble, Ginger. My pride has been battered and
+      chopped up and broken into as many pieces as you broke Mr. Scrymgeour's
+      stick! What pitiful creatures we are. Girls, I mean. At least, I suppose a
+      good many girls are like me. If Gerald had died and I had lost him that
+      way, I know quite well I shouldn't be feeling as I do now. I should have
+      been broken-hearted, but it wouldn't have been the same. It's my pride
+      that is hurt. I have always been a bossy, cocksure little creature,
+      swaggering about the world like an English sparrow; and now I'm paying for
+      it! Oh, Ginger, I'm paying for it! I wonder if running away is going to do
+      me any good at all. Perhaps, if Mr. Faucitt has some real hard work for me
+      to do...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, I know exactly how all this has come about. Elsa's pretty and
+      attractive. But the point is that she is a success, and as a success she
+      appeals to Gerald's weakest side. He worships success. She is going to
+      have a marvellous career, and she can help Gerald on in his. He can write
+      plays for her to star in. What have I to offer against that? Yes, I know
+      it's grovelling and contemptible of me to say that, Ginger. I ought to be
+      above it, oughtn't I&mdash;talking as if I were competing for some
+      prize... But I haven't any pride left. Oh, well!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! I've poured it all out and I really do feel a little better just
+      for the moment. It won't last, of course, but even a minute is something.
+      Ginger, dear, I shan't see you for ever so long, even if we ever do meet
+      again, but you'll try to remember that I'm thinking of you a whole lot,
+      won't you? I feel responsible for you. You're my baby. You've got started
+      now and you've only to stick to it. Please, please, please don't 'make a
+      hash of it'! Good-bye. I never did find that photograph of me that we were
+      looking for that afternoon in the apartment, or I would send it to you.
+      Then you could have kept it on your mantelpiece, and whenever you felt
+      inclined to make a hash of anything I would have caught your eye sternly
+      and you would have pulled up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, Ginger. I shall have to stop now. The mail is just closing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always your pal, wherever I am.&mdash;-SALLY.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger laid the letter down, and a little sound escaped him that was half
+      a sigh, half an oath. He was wondering whether even now some desirable end
+      might not be achieved by going to Chicago and breaking Gerald Foster's
+      neck. Abandoning this scheme as impracticable, and not being able to think
+      of anything else to do he re-lit his pipe and started to read the letter
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII. SOME LETTERS FOR GINGER
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Laurette et Cie,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Regent Street,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      London, W.,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      January 21st.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear Ginger,&mdash;I'm feeling better. As it's three months since I last
+      wrote to you, no doubt you will say to yourself that I would be a poor,
+      weak-minded creature if I wasn't. I suppose one ought to be able to get
+      over anything in three months. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I haven't quite
+      succeeded in doing that, but at least I have managed to get my troubles
+      stowed away in the cellar, and I'm not dragging them out and looking at
+      them all the time. That's something, isn't it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I ought to give you all my impressions of London, I suppose; but I've
+      grown so used to the place that I don't think I have any now. I seem to
+      have been here years and years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You will see by the address that Mr. Faucitt has not yet sold his
+      inheritance. He expects to do so very soon, he tells me&mdash;there is a
+      rich-looking man with whiskers and a keen eye whom he is always lunching
+      with, and I think big deals are in progress. Poor dear! he is crazy to get
+      away into the country and settle down and grow ducks and things. London
+      has disappointed him. It is not the place it used to be. Until quite
+      lately, when he grew resigned, he used to wander about in a disconsolate
+      sort of way, trying to locate the landmarks of his youth. (He has not been
+      in England for nearly thirty years!) The trouble is, it seems, that about
+      once in every thirty years a sort of craze for change comes over London,
+      and they paint a shop-front red instead of blue, and that upsets the
+      returned exile dreadfully. Mr. Faucitt feels like Rip Van Winkle. His
+      first shock was when he found that the Empire was a theatre now instead of
+      a music-hall. Then he was told that another music-hall, the Tivoli, had
+      been pulled down altogether. And when on top of that he went to look at
+      the baker's shop in Rupert Street, over which he had lodgings in the
+      eighties, and discovered that it had been turned into a dressmaker's, he
+      grew very melancholy, and only cheered up a little when a lovely magenta
+      fog came on and showed him that some things were still going along as in
+      the good old days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am kept quite busy at Laurette et Cie., thank goodness. (Not being a
+      French scholar like you&mdash;do you remember Jules?&mdash;I thought at
+      first that Cie was the name of the junior partner, and looked forward to
+      meeting him. &ldquo;Miss Nicholas, shake hands with Mr. Cie, one of your
+      greatest admirers.&rdquo;) I hold down the female equivalent of your job at the
+      Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.&mdash;that is to say, I'm a
+      sort of right-hand woman. I hang around and sidle up to the customers when
+      they come in, and say, &ldquo;Chawming weather, moddom!&rdquo; (which is usually a
+      black lie) and pass them on to the staff, who do the actual work. I
+      shouldn't mind going on like this for the next few years, but Mr. Faucitt
+      is determined to sell. I don't know if you are like that, but every other
+      Englishman I've ever met seems to have an ambition to own a house and lot
+      in Loamshire or Hants or Salop or somewhere. Their one object in life is
+      to make some money and &ldquo;buy back the old place&rdquo;&mdash;which was sold, of
+      course, at the end of act one to pay the heir's gambling debts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Faucitt, when he was a small boy, used to live in a little village in
+      Gloucestershire, near a place called Cirencester&mdash;at least, it isn't:
+      it's called Cissister, which I bet you didn't know&mdash;and after
+      forgetting about it for fifty years, he has suddenly been bitten by the
+      desire to end his days there, surrounded by pigs and chickens. He took me
+      down to see the place the other day. Oh, Ginger, this English country! Why
+      any of you ever live in towns I can't think. Old, old grey stone houses
+      with yellow haystacks and lovely squelchy muddy lanes and great fat trees
+      and blue hills in the distance. The peace of it! If ever I sell my soul, I
+      shall insist on the devil giving me at least forty years in some English
+      country place in exchange.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps you will think from all this that I am too much occupied to
+      remember your existence. Just to show how interested I am in you, let me
+      tell you that, when I was reading the paper a week ago, I happened to see
+      the headline, &ldquo;International Match.&rdquo; It didn't seem to mean anything at
+      first, and then I suddenly recollected. This was the thing you had once
+      been a snip for! So I went down to a place called Twickenham, where this
+      football game was to be, to see the sort of thing you used to do before I
+      took charge of you and made you a respectable right-hand man. There was an
+      enormous crowd there, and I was nearly squeezed to death, but I bore it
+      for your sake. I found out that the English team were the ones wearing
+      white shirts, and that the ones in red were the Welsh. I said to the man
+      next to me, after he had finished yelling himself black in the face,
+      &ldquo;Could you kindly inform me which is the English scrum-half?&rdquo; And just at
+      that moment the players came quite near where I was, and about a dozen
+      assassins in red hurled themselves violently on top of a meek-looking
+      little fellow who had just fallen on the ball. Ginger, you are well out of
+      it! That was the scrum-half, and I gathered that that sort of thing was a
+      mere commonplace in his existence. Stopping a rush, it is called, and he
+      is expected to do it all the time. The idea of you ever going in for such
+      brutal sports! You thank your stars that you are safe on your little stool
+      in Fillmore's outer office, and that, if anybody jumps on top of you now,
+      you can call a cop. Do you mean to say you really used to do these
+      daredevil feats? You must have hidden depths in you which I have never
+      suspected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As I was taking a ride down Piccadilly the other day on top of a bus, I
+      saw somebody walking along who seemed familiar. It was Mr. Carmyle. So
+      he's back in England again. He didn't see me, thank goodness. I don't want
+      to meet anybody just at present who reminds me of New York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thanks for telling me all the news, but please don't do it again. It makes
+      me remember, and I don't want to. It's this way, Ginger. Let me write to
+      you, because it really does relieve me, but don't answer my letters. Do
+      you mind? I'm sure you'll understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Fillmore and Gladys Winch are married! From what I have seen of her,
+      it's the best thing that has ever happened to Brother F. She is a splendid
+      girl. I must write to him...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laurette et Cie..
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      London
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      March 12th.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear Ginger,&mdash;I saw in a Sunday paper last week that &ldquo;The Primrose
+      Way&rdquo; had been produced in New York, and was a great success. Well, I'm
+      very glad. But I don't think the papers ought to print things like that.
+      It's unsettling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day, I did one of those funny things you do when you're feeling blue
+      and lonely and a long way away from everybody. I called at your club and
+      asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk said in a
+      fatherly way that you hadn't been in lately, and he rather fancied you
+      were out of town, but would I take a seat while he inquired. He then
+      summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the child skipped off chanting,
+      &ldquo;Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!&rdquo; in a shrill treble. It gave me such an odd
+      feeling to hear your name echoing in the distance. I felt so ashamed for
+      giving them all that trouble; and when the boy came back I slipped
+      twopence into his palm, which I suppose was against all the rules, though
+      he seemed to like it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I am
+      rather at a loose end...
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                                                 Monk's Crofton,
+                                                 (whatever that means)
+                                                 Much Middleford,
+                                                 Salop,
+                                                 (slang for Shropshire)
+                                                 England.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      April 18th.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear Ginger,&mdash;What's the use? What is the use? I do all I can to get
+      right away from New York, and New York comes after me and tracks me down
+      in my hiding-place. A week or so ago, as I was walking down the Strand in
+      an aimless sort of way, out there came right on top of me&mdash;who do you
+      think? Fillmore, arm in arm with Mr. Carmyle! I couldn't dodge. In the
+      first place, Mr. Carmyle had seen me; in the second place, it is a day's
+      journey to dodge poor dear Fillmore now. I blushed for him. Ginger! Right
+      there in the Strand I blushed for him. In my worst dreams I had never
+      pictured him so enormous. Upon what meat doth this our Fillmore feed that
+      he is grown so great? Poor Gladys! When she looks at him she must feel
+      like a bigamist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Apparently Fillmore is still full of big schemes, for he talked airily
+      about buying all sorts of English plays. He has come over, as I suppose
+      you know, to arrange about putting on &ldquo;The Primrose Way&rdquo; over here. He is
+      staying at the Savoy, and they took me off there to lunch, whooping
+      joyfully as over a strayed lamb. It was the worst thing that could
+      possibly have happened to me. Fillmore talked Broadway without a pause,
+      till by the time he had worked his way past the French pastry and was
+      lolling back, breathing a little stertorously, waiting for the coffee and
+      liqueurs, he had got me so homesick that, if it hadn't been that I didn't
+      want to make a public exhibition of myself, I should have broken down and
+      howled. It was crazy of me ever to go near the Savoy. Of course, it's
+      simply an annex to Broadway. There were Americans at every table as far as
+      the eye could reach. I might just as well have been at the Astor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, if Fate insists in bringing New York to England for my special
+      discomfiture, I suppose I have got to put up with it. I just let events
+      take their course, and I have been drifting ever since. Two days ago I
+      drifted here. Mr. Carmyle invited Fillmore&mdash;he seems to love Fillmore&mdash;and
+      me to Monk's Crofton, and I hadn't even the shadow of an excuse for
+      refusing. So I came, and I am now sitting writing to you in an enormous
+      bedroom with an open fire and armchairs and every other sort of luxury.
+      Fillmore is out golfing. He sails for New York on Saturday on the
+      Mauretania. I am horrified to hear from him that, in addition to all his
+      other big schemes, he is now promoting a fight for the light-weight
+      championship in Jersey City, and guaranteeing enormous sums to both
+      boxers. It's no good arguing with him. If you do, he simply quotes figures
+      to show the fortunes other people have made out of these things. Besides,
+      it's too late now, anyway. As far as I can make out, the fight is going to
+      take place in another week or two. All the same, it makes my flesh creep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, it's no use worrying, I suppose. Let's change the subject. Do you
+      know Monk's Crofton? Probably you don't, as I seem to remember hearing
+      something said about it being a recent purchase. Mr. Carmyle bought it
+      from some lord or other who had been losing money on the Stock Exchange. I
+      hope you haven't seen it, anyway, because I want to describe it at great
+      length. I want to pour out my soul about it. Ginger, what has England ever
+      done to deserve such paradises? I thought, in my ignorance, that Mr.
+      Faucitt's Cissister place was pretty good, but it doesn't even begin. It
+      can't compete. Of course, his is just an ordinary country house, and this
+      is a Seat. Monk's Crofton is the sort of place they used to write about in
+      the English novels. You know. &ldquo;The sunset was falling on the walls of G&mdash;&mdash;
+      Castle, in B&mdash;&mdash;shire, hard by the picturesque village of H&mdash;&mdash;,
+      and not a stone's throw from the hamlet of J&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo; I can imagine
+      Tennyson's Maud living here. It is one of the stately homes of England;
+      how beautiful they stand, and I'm crazy about it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You motor up from the station, and after you have gone about three miles,
+      you turn in at a big iron gate with stone posts on each side with stone
+      beasts on them. Close by the gate is the cutest little house with an old
+      man inside it who pops out and touches his hat. This is only the lodge,
+      really, but you think you have arrived; so you get all ready to jump out,
+      and then the car goes rolling on for another fifty miles or so through
+      beech woods full of rabbits and open meadows with deer in them. Finally,
+      just as you think you are going on for ever, you whizz round a corner, and
+      there's the house. You don't get a glimpse of it till then, because the
+      trees are too thick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It's very large, and sort of low and square, with a kind of tower at one
+      side and the most fascinating upper porch sort of thing with battlements.
+      I suppose in the old days you used to stand on this and drop molten lead
+      on visitors' heads. Wonderful lawns all round, and shrubberies and a lake
+      that you can just see where the ground dips beyond the fields. Of course
+      it's too early yet for them to be out, but to the left of the house
+      there's a place where there will be about a million roses when June comes
+      round, and all along the side of the rose-garden is a high wall of old red
+      brick which shuts off the kitchen garden. I went exploring there this
+      morning. It's an enormous place, with hot-houses and things, and there's
+      the cunningest farm at one end with a stable yard full of puppies that
+      just tear the heart out of you, they're so sweet. And a big, sleepy cat,
+      which sits and blinks in the sun and lets the puppies run all over her.
+      And there's a lovely stillness, and you can hear everything growing. And
+      thrushes and blackbirds... Oh, Ginger, it's heavenly!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there's a catch. It's a case of &ldquo;Where every prospect pleases and only
+      man is vile.&rdquo; At least, not exactly vile, I suppose, but terribly stodgy.
+      I can see now why you couldn't hit it off with the Family. Because I've
+      seen 'em all! They're here! Yes, Uncle Donald and all of them. Is it a
+      habit of your family to collect in gangs, or have I just happened to
+      stumble into an accidental Old Home Week? When I came down to dinner the
+      first evening, the drawing-room was full to bursting point&mdash;not
+      simply because Fillmore was there, but because there were uncles and aunts
+      all over the place. I felt like a small lion in a den of Daniels. I know
+      exactly now what you mean about the Family. They look at you! Of course,
+      it's all right for me, because I am snowy white clear through, but I can
+      just imagine what it must have been like for you with your permanently
+      guilty conscience. You must have had an awful time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By the way, it's going to be a delicate business getting this letter
+      through to you&mdash;rather like carrying the despatches through the
+      enemy's lines in a Civil War play. You're supposed to leave letters on the
+      table in the hall, and someone collects them in the afternoon and takes
+      them down to the village on a bicycle. But, if I do that some aunt or
+      uncle is bound to see it, and I shall be an object of loathing, for it is
+      no light matter, my lad, to be caught having correspondence with a human
+      Jimpson weed like you. It would blast me socially. At least, so I gather
+      from the way they behaved when your name came up at dinner last night.
+      Somebody mentioned you, and the most awful roasting party broke loose.
+      Uncle Donald acting as cheer-leader. I said feebly that I had met you and
+      had found you part human, and there was an awful silence till they all
+      started at the same time to show me where I was wrong, and how cruelly my
+      girlish inexperience had deceived me. A young and innocent half-portion
+      like me, it appears, is absolutely incapable of suspecting the true infamy
+      of the dregs of society. You aren't fit to speak to the likes of me, being
+      at the kindest estimate little more than a blot on the human race. I tell
+      you this in case you may imagine you're popular with the Family. You're
+      not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So I shall have to exercise a good deal of snaky craft in smuggling this
+      letter through. I'll take it down to the village myself if I can sneak
+      away. But it's going to be pretty difficult, because for some reason I
+      seem to be a centre of attraction. Except when I take refuge in my room,
+      hardly a moment passes without an aunt or an uncle popping out and having
+      a cosy talk with me. It sometimes seems as though they were weighing me in
+      the balance. Well, let 'em weigh!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Time to dress for dinner now. Good-bye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours in the balance,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      P.S.&mdash;You were perfectly right about your Uncle Donald's moustache,
+      but I don't agree with you that it is more his misfortune than his fault.
+      I think he does it on purpose.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                                                  (Just for the moment)
+                                                  Monk's Crofton,
+                                                  Much Middleford,
+                                                  Salop,
+                                                  England.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      April 20th.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dear Ginger,&mdash;Leaving here to-day. In disgrace. Hard, cold looks from
+      the family. Strained silences. Uncle Donald far from chummy. You can guess
+      what has happened. I might have seen it coming. I can see now that it was
+      in the air all along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore knows nothing about it. He left just before it happened. I shall
+      see him very soon, for I have decided to come back and stop running away
+      from things any longer. It's cowardly to skulk about over here. Besides,
+      I'm feeling so much better that I believe I can face the ghosts. Anyway,
+      I'm going to try. See you almost as soon as you get this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I shall mail this in London, and I suppose it will come over by the same
+      boat as me. It's hardly worth writing, really, of course, but I have
+      sneaked up to my room to wait till the motor arrives to take me to the
+      station, and it's something to do. I can hear muffled voices. The Family
+      talking me over, probably. Saying they never really liked me all along.
+      Oh, well!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours moving in an orderly manner to the exit,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII. STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's emotions, as she sat in her apartment on the morning of her return
+      to New York, resembled somewhat those of a swimmer who, after wavering on
+      a raw morning at the brink of a chill pool, nerves himself to the plunge.
+      She was aching, but she knew that she had done well. If she wanted
+      happiness, she must fight for it, and for all these months she had been
+      shirking the fight. She had done with wavering on the brink, and here she
+      was, in mid-stream, ready for whatever might befall. It hurt, this coming
+      to grips. She had expected it to hurt. But it was a pain that stimulated,
+      not a dull melancholy that smothered. She felt alive and defiant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had finished unpacking and tidying up. The next move was certainly to
+      go and see Ginger. She had suddenly become aware that she wanted very
+      badly to see Ginger. His stolid friendliness would be a support and a
+      prop. She wished now that she had sent him a cable, so that he could have
+      met her at the dock. It had been rather terrible at the dock. The echoing
+      customs sheds had sapped her valour and she felt alone and forlorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at her watch, and was surprised to find how early it was. She
+      could catch him at the office and make him take her out to lunch. She put
+      on her hat and went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The restless hand of change, always active in New York, had not spared the
+      outer office of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. in the
+      months of her absence. She was greeted on her arrival by an entirely new
+      and original stripling in the place of the one with whom at her last visit
+      she had established such cordial relations. Like his predecessor he was
+      generously pimpled, but there the resemblance stopped. He was a grim boy,
+      and his manner was stern and suspicious. He peered narrowly at Sally for a
+      moment as if he had caught her in the act of purloining the office
+      blotting-paper, then, with no little acerbity, desired her to state her
+      business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want Mr. Kemp,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The office-boy scratched his cheek dourly with a ruler. No one would have
+      guessed, so austere was his aspect, that a moment before her entrance he
+      had been trying to balance it on his chin, juggling the while with a pair
+      of paper-weights. For, impervious as he seemed to human weaknesses, it was
+      this lad's ambition one day to go into vaudeville.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name?&rdquo; he said, coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nicholas,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;I am Mr. Nicholas' sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On a previous occasion when she had made this announcement, disastrous
+      results had ensued; but to-day it went well. It seemed to hit the
+      office-boy like a bullet. He started convulsively, opened his mouth, and
+      dropped the ruler. In the interval of stooping and recovering it he was
+      able to pull himself together. He had not been curious about Sally's name.
+      What he had wished was to have the name of the person for whom she was
+      asking repeated. He now perceived that he had had a bit of luck. A
+      wearying period of disappointment in the matter of keeping the
+      paper-weights circulating while balancing the ruler, had left him peevish,
+      and it had been his intention to work off his ill-humour on the young
+      visitor. The discovery that it was the boss's sister who was taking up his
+      time, suggested the advisability of a radical change of tactics. He had
+      stooped with a frown: he returned to the perpendicular with a smile that
+      was positively winning. It was like the sun suddenly bursting through a
+      London fog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you take a seat, lady?&rdquo; he said, with polished courtesy even
+      unbending so far as to reach out and dust one with the sleeve of his coat.
+      He added that the morning was a fine one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;Will you tell him I'm here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Nicholas is out, miss,&rdquo; said the office-boy, with gentlemanly regret.
+      &ldquo;He's back in New York, but he's gone out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want Mr. Nicholas. I want Mr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Kemp?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Mr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sorrow at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy's
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't know of anyone of that name around here,&rdquo; he said, apologetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely...&rdquo; Sally broke off suddenly. A grim foreboding had come to
+      her. &ldquo;How long have you been here?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All day, ma'am,&rdquo; said the office-boy, with the manner of a Casablanca.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, how long have you been employed here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just over a month, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasn't Mr. Kemp been in the office all that time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Name's new to me, lady. Does he look like anything? I meanter say, what's
+      he look like?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has very red hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never seen him in here,&rdquo; said the office-boy. The truth shone coldly on
+      Sally. She blamed herself for ever having gone away, and told herself that
+      she might have known what would happen. Left to his own resources, the
+      unhappy Ginger had once more made a hash of it. And this hash must have
+      been a more notable and outstanding hash than any of his previous efforts,
+      for, surely, Fillmore would not lightly have dismissed one who had come to
+      him under her special protection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Mr. Nicholas?&rdquo; she asked. It seemed to her that Fillmore was the
+      only possible source of information. &ldquo;Did you say he was out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really out, miss,&rdquo; said the office-boy, with engaging candour. &ldquo;He went
+      off to White Plains in his automobile half-an-hour ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;White Plains? What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pimpled stripling had now given himself up wholeheartedly to social
+      chit-chat. Usually he liked his time to himself and resented the intrusion
+      of the outer world, for he who had chosen jugglery for his walk in life
+      must neglect no opportunity of practising: but so favourable was the
+      impression which Sally had made on his plastic mind that he was delighted
+      to converse with her as long as she wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess what's happened is, he's gone up to take a look at Bugs Butler,&rdquo;
+       he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whose butler?&rdquo; said Sally mystified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The office-boy smiled a tolerant smile. Though an admirer of the sex, he
+      was aware that women were seldom hep to the really important things in
+      life. He did not blame them. That was the way they were constructed, and
+      one simply had to accept it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bugs Butler is training up at White Plains, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Bugs Butler?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something of his former bleakness of aspect returned to the office-boy.
+      Sally's question had opened up a subject on which he felt deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he replied, losing his air of respectful deference as he approached
+      the topic. &ldquo;Who is he! That's what they're all saying, all the wise guys.
+      Who has Bugs Butler ever licked?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Sally, for he had fixed her with a penetrating gaze
+      and seemed to be pausing for a reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor nobody else,&rdquo; said the stripling vehemently. &ldquo;A lot of stiffs out on
+      the coast, that's all. Ginks nobody has ever heard of, except Cyclone
+      Mullins, and it took that false alarm fifteen rounds to get a referee's
+      decision over him. The boss would go and give him a chance against the
+      champ, but I could have told him that the legitimate contender was K-leg
+      Binns. K-leg put Cyclone Mullins out in the fifth. Well,&rdquo; said the
+      office-boy in the overwrought tone of one chafing at human folly, &ldquo;if
+      anybody thinks Bugs Butler can last six rounds with Lew Lucas, I've two
+      bucks right here in my vest pocket that says it ain't so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally began to see daylight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Bugs&mdash;Mr. Butler is one of the boxers in this fight that my
+      brother is interested in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right. He's going up against the lightweight champ. Lew Lucas is
+      the lightweight champ. He's a bird!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; said Sally. This youth had a way of looking at her with his head
+      cocked on one side as though he expected her to say something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir!&rdquo; said the stripling with emphasis. &ldquo;Lew Lucas is a hot sketch.
+      He used to live on the next street to me,&rdquo; he added as clinching evidence
+      of his hero's prowess. &ldquo;I've seen his old mother as close as I am to you.
+      Say, I seen her a hundred times. Is any stiff of a Bugs Butler going to
+      lick a fellow like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't seem likely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You spoke it!&rdquo; said the lad crisply, striking unsuccessfully at a fly
+      which had settled on the blotting-paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. Sally started to rise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there's another thing,&rdquo; said the office-boy, loath to close the
+      subject. &ldquo;Can Bugs Butler make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without
+      being weak?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sounds awfully difficult.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They say he's clever.&rdquo; The expert laughed satirically. &ldquo;Well, what's that
+      going to get him? The poor fish can't punch a hole in a nut-sundae.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't seem to like Mr. Butler.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I've nothing against him,&rdquo; said the office-boy magnanimously. &ldquo;I'm
+      only saying he's no licence to be mixing it with Lew Lucas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally got up. Absorbing as this chat on current form was, more important
+      matters claimed her attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How shall I find my brother when I get to White Plains?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, anybody'll show you the way to the training-camp. If you hurry,
+      there's a train you can make now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're welcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the door for her with an old-world politeness which disuse had
+      rendered a little rusty: then, with an air of getting back to business
+      after a pleasant but frivolous interlude, he took up the paper-weights
+      once more and placed the ruler with nice care on his upturned chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore heaved a sigh of relief and began to sidle from the room. It was
+      a large room, half barn, half gymnasium. Athletic appliances of various
+      kinds hung on the walls and in the middle there was a wide roped-off
+      space, around which a small crowd had distributed itself with an air of
+      expectancy. This is a commercial age, and the days when a prominent
+      pugilist's training activities used to be hidden from the public gaze are
+      over. To-day, if the public can lay its hands on fifty cents, it may come
+      and gaze its fill. This afternoon, plutocrats to the number of about forty
+      had assembled, though not all of these, to the regret of Mr. Lester
+      Burrowes, the manager of the eminent Bugs Butler, had parted with solid
+      coin. Many of those present were newspaper representatives and on the free
+      list&mdash;writers who would polish up Mr. Butler's somewhat crude
+      prognostications as to what he proposed to do to Mr. Lew Lucas, and would
+      report him as saying, &ldquo;I am in really superb condition and feel little
+      apprehension of the issue,&rdquo; and artists who would depict him in a state of
+      semi-nudity with feet several sizes too large for any man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The reason for Fillmore's relief was that Mr. Burrowes, who was a great
+      talker and had buttonholed him a quarter of an hour ago, had at last had
+      his attention distracted elsewhere, and had gone off to investigate some
+      matter that called for his personal handling, leaving Fillmore free to
+      slide away to the hotel and get a bite to eat, which he sorely needed. The
+      zeal which had brought him to the training-camp to inspect the final day
+      of Mr. Butler's preparation&mdash;for the fight was to take place on the
+      morrow&mdash;had been so great that he had omitted to lunch before leaving
+      New York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Fillmore made thankfully for the door. And it was at the door that he
+      encountered Sally. He was looking over his shoulder at the moment, and was
+      not aware of her presence till she spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, Fillmore!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had spoken softly, but a dynamite explosion could not have shattered
+      her brother's composure with more completeness. In the leaping twist which
+      brought him facing her, he rose a clear three inches from the floor. He
+      had a confused sensation, as though his nervous system had been stirred up
+      with a pole. He struggled for breath and moistened his lips with the tip
+      of his tongue, staring at her continuously during the process.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Great men, in their moments of weakness, are to be pitied rather than
+      scorned. If ever a man had an excuse for leaping like a young ram,
+      Fillmore had it. He had left Sally not much more than a week ago in
+      England, in Shropshire, at Monk's Crofton. She had said nothing of any
+      intention on her part of leaving the country, the county, or the house.
+      Yet here she was, in Bugs Butler's training-camp at White Plains, in the
+      State of New York, speaking softly in his ear without even going through
+      the preliminary of tapping him on the shoulder to advertise her presence.
+      No wonder that Fillmore was startled. And no wonder that, as he adjusted
+      his faculties to the situation, there crept upon him a chill apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For Fillmore had not been blind to the significance of that invitation to
+      Monk's Crofton. Nowadays your wooer does not formally approach a girl's
+      nearest relative and ask permission to pay his addresses; but, when he
+      invites her and that nearest relative to his country home and collects all
+      the rest of the family to meet her, the thing may be said to have advanced
+      beyond the realms of mere speculation. Shrewdly Fillmore had deduced that
+      Bruce Carmyle was in love with Sally, and mentally he had joined their
+      hands and given them a brother's blessing. And now it was only too plain
+      that disaster must have occurred. If the invitation could mean only one
+      thing, so also could Sally's presence at White Plains mean only one thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally!&rdquo; A croaking whisper was the best he could achieve. &ldquo;What...
+      what...?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I startle you? I'm sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Monk's Crofton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally glanced past him at the ring and the crowd around it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I decided I wanted to get back to America. Circumstances arose which made
+      it pleasanter to leave Monk's Crofton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say...?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Don't let's talk about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say,&rdquo; persisted Fillmore, &ldquo;that Carmyle proposed to you
+      and you turned him down?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally flushed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think it's particularly nice to talk about that sort of thing,
+      but&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A feeling of desolation overcame Fillmore. That conviction, which saddens
+      us at all times, of the wilful bone-headedness of our fellows swept coldly
+      upon him. Everything had been so perfect, the whole arrangement so ideal,
+      that it had never occurred to him as a possibility that Sally might take
+      it into her head to spoil it by declining to play the part allotted to
+      her. The match was so obviously the best thing that could happen. It was
+      not merely the suitor's impressive wealth that made him hold this opinion,
+      though it would be idle to deny that the prospect of having a
+      brother-in-lawful claim on the Carmyle bank-balance had cast a rosy
+      glamour over the future as he had envisaged it. He honestly liked and
+      respected the man. He appreciated his quiet and aristocratic reserve. A
+      well-bred fellow, sensible withal, just the sort of husband a girl like
+      Sally needed. And now she had ruined everything. With the capricious
+      perversity which so characterizes her otherwise delightful sex, she had
+      spilled the beans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fill!&rdquo; Sally had expected that realization of the facts would produce
+      these symptoms in him, but now that they had presented themselves she was
+      finding them rasping to the nerves. &ldquo;I should have thought the reason was
+      obvious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you don't like him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know whether I do or not. I certainly don't like him enough to
+      marry him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a darned good fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he? You say so. I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The imperious desire for bodily sustenance began to compete successfully
+      for Fillmore's notice with his spiritual anguish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's go to the hotel and talk it over. We'll go to the hotel and I'll
+      give you something to eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want anything to eat, thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't want anything to eat?&rdquo; said Fillmore incredulously. He supposed
+      in a vague sort of way that there were eccentric people of this sort, but
+      it was hard to realize that he had met one of them. &ldquo;I'm starving.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, run along then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I want to talk...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not the only person who wanted to talk. At the moment a small man
+      of sporting exterior hurried up. He wore what his tailor's advertisements
+      would have called a &ldquo;nobbly&rdquo; suit of checked tweed and&mdash;in defiance
+      of popular prejudice&mdash;a brown bowler hat. Mr. Lester Burrowes, having
+      dealt with the business which had interrupted their conversation a few
+      minutes before, was anxious to resume his remarks on the subject of the
+      supreme excellence in every respect of his young charge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Mr. Nicholas, you ain't going'? Bugs is just getting ready to spar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced inquiringly at Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sister&mdash;Mr. Burrowes,&rdquo; said Fillmore faintly. &ldquo;Mr. Burrowes is
+      Bugs Butler's manager.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do?&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pleased to meecher,&rdquo; said Mr. Burrowes. &ldquo;Say...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just going to the hotel to get something to eat,&rdquo; said Fillmore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with a
+      glittering eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef'n. You've never seen
+      this boy of mine, not when he was feeling right. Believe me, he's there!
+      He's a wizard. He's a Hindoo! Say, he's been practising up a left shift
+      that...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's eye met Sally's wanly, and she pitied him. Presently she would
+      require him to explain to her how he had dared to dismiss Ginger from his
+      employment&mdash;and make that explanation a good one: but in the meantime
+      she remembered that he was her brother and was suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's the cleverest lightweight,&rdquo; proceeded Mr. Burrowes fervently, &ldquo;since
+      Joe Gans. I'm telling you and I know! He...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can he make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without being weak?&rdquo; asked
+      Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect of this simple question on Mr. Burrowes was stupendous. He
+      dropped away from Fillmore's coat-button like an exhausted bivalve, and
+      his small mouth opened feebly. It was as if a child had suddenly
+      propounded to an eminent mathematician some abstruse problem in the higher
+      algebra. Females who took an interest in boxing had come into Mr.
+      Burrowes' life before&mdash;-in his younger days, when he was a famous
+      featherweight, the first of his three wives had been accustomed to sit at
+      the ringside during his contests and urge him in language of the severest
+      technicality to knock opponents' blocks off&mdash;but somehow he had not
+      supposed from her appearance and manner that Sally was one of the elect.
+      He gaped at her, and the relieved Fillmore sidled off like a bird hopping
+      from the compelling gaze of a snake. He was not quite sure that he was
+      acting correctly in allowing his sister to roam at large among the
+      somewhat Bohemian surroundings of a training-camp, but the instinct of
+      self-preservation turned the scale. He had breakfasted early, and if he
+      did not eat right speedily it seemed to him that dissolution would set in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whazzat?&rdquo; said Mr. Burrowes feebly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took him fifteen rounds to get a referee's decision over Cyclone
+      Mullins,&rdquo; said Sally severely, &ldquo;and K-leg Binns...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burrowes rallies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't got it right&rdquo; he protested. &ldquo;Say, you mustn't believe what you
+      see in the papers. The referee was dead against us, and Cyclone was down
+      once for all of half a minute and they wouldn't count him out. Gee! You
+      got to kill a guy in some towns before they'll give you a decision. At
+      that, they couldn't do nothing so raw as make it anything but a win for my
+      boy, after him leading by a mile all the way. Have you ever seen Bugs,
+      ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had to admit that she had not had that privilege. Mr. Burrowes with
+      growing excitement felt in his breast-pocket and produced a
+      picture-postcard, which he thrust into her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's Bugs,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Take a slant at that and then tell me if he don't
+      look the goods.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The photograph represented a young man in the irreducible minimum of
+      clothing who crouched painfully, as though stricken with one of the acuter
+      forms of gastritis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll call him over and have him sign it for you,&rdquo; said Mr. Burrowes,
+      before Sally had had time to grasp the fact that this work of art was a
+      gift and no mere loan. &ldquo;Here, Bugs&mdash;wantcher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A youth enveloped in a bath-robe, who had been talking to a group of
+      admirers near the ring, turned, started languidly towards them, then,
+      seeing Sally, quickened his pace. He was an admirer of the sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burrowes did the honours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bugs, this is Miss Nicholas, come to see you work out. I have been
+      telling her she's going to have a treat.&rdquo; And to Sally. &ldquo;Shake hands with
+      Bugs Butler, ma'am, the coming lightweight champion of the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Butler's photograph, Sally considered, had flattered him. He was, in
+      the flesh, a singularly repellent young man. There was a mean and cruel
+      curve to his lips and a cold arrogance in his eye; a something dangerous
+      and sinister in the atmosphere he radiated. Moreover, she did not like the
+      way he smirked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, she exerted herself to be amiable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming
+      champion's doubts, though they had never been serious. He was convinced
+      now that he had made a hit. He always did, he reflected, with the girls.
+      It was something about him. His chest swelled complacently beneath the
+      bath-robe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You betcher,&rdquo; he asserted briefly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burrows looked at his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time you were starting, Bugs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The coming champion removed his gaze from Sally's face, into which he had
+      been peering in a conquering manner, and cast a disparaging glance at the
+      audience. It was far from being as large as he could have wished, and at
+      least a third of it was composed of non-payers from the newspapers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said, bored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits
+      revived somewhat. After all, small though the numbers of spectators might
+      be, bright eyes would watch and admire him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Seen him
+      anywheres? He's never around when he's wanted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll fetch him,&rdquo; said Mr. Burrowes. &ldquo;He's back there somewheres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to show that guy up this afternoon,&rdquo; said Mr. Butler coldly.
+      &ldquo;He's been getting too fresh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manager bustled off, and Bugs Butler, with a final smirk, left Sally
+      and dived under the ropes. There was a stir of interest in the audience,
+      though the newspaper men, blasé through familiarity, exhibited no emotion.
+      Presently Mr. Burrowes reappeared, shepherding a young man whose face was
+      hidden by the sweater which he was pulling over his head. He was a
+      sturdily built young man. The sweater, moving from his body, revealed a
+      good pair of shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A last tug, and the sweater was off. Red hair flashed into view, tousled
+      and disordered: and, as she saw it, Sally uttered an involuntary gasp of
+      astonishment which caused many eyes to turn towards her. And the
+      red-headed young man, who had been stooping to pick up his gloves,
+      straightened himself with a jerk and stood staring at her blankly and
+      incredulously, his face slowly crimsoning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the energetic Mr. Burrowes who broke the spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, come on,&rdquo; he said impatiently. &ldquo;Li'l speed there, Reddy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger Kemp started like a sleep-walker awakened; then recovering himself,
+      slowly began to pull on the gloves. Embarrassment was stamped on his
+      agreeable features. His face matched his hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally plucked at the little manager's elbow. He turned irritably, but
+      beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source of the
+      interruption.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who&mdash;him?&rdquo; he said in answer to Sally's whispered question. &ldquo;He's
+      just one of Bugs' sparring-partners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch. We mustn't waste
+      any time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally drew back. She felt like an infidel who intrudes upon the
+      celebration of strange rites. This was Man's hour, and women must keep in
+      the background. She had the sensation of being very small and yet very
+      much in the way, like a puppy who has wandered into a church. The novelty
+      and solemnity of the scene awed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at Ginger, who with averted gaze was fiddling with his clothes
+      in the opposite corner of the ring. He was as removed from communication
+      as if he had been in another world. She continued to stare, wide-eyed, and
+      Ginger, shuffling his feet self-consciously, plucked at his gloves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Butler, meanwhile, having doffed his bath-robe, stretched himself, and
+      with leisurely nonchalance put on a second pair of gloves, was filling in
+      the time with a little shadow boxing. He moved rhythmically to and fro,
+      now ducking his head, now striking out with his muffled hands, and a
+      sickening realization of the man's animal power swept over Sally and
+      turned her cold. Swathed in his bath-robe, Bugs Butler had conveyed an
+      atmosphere of dangerousness: in the boxing-tights which showed up every
+      rippling muscle, he was horrible and sinister, a machine built for
+      destruction, a human panther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at her
+      side was not equally impressed. Obviously one of the Wise Guys of whom her
+      friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly dissatisfied
+      with the exhibition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shadow-boxing,&rdquo; he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion. &ldquo;Yes,
+      he can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain't got a
+      partner to get in the way. But one good wallop, and then watch him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a curt
+      nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he agreed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lew Lucas,&rdquo; said the first wise guy, &ldquo;is just as shifty, and he can
+      punch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the second wise guy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners,&rdquo; said the
+      first wise guy disparagingly, &ldquo;he thinks he's someone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the second wise guy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which
+      was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring. For a comforting
+      moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to be devoured by a
+      lion. Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so formidable as he appeared. But
+      her relief was not to be long-lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he'll eat this red-headed gink,&rdquo; went on the first wise guy.
+      &ldquo;That's the thing he does best, killing his sparring-partners. But Lew
+      Lucas...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was not interested in Lew Lucas. That numbing fear had come back to
+      her. Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had
+      plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger. She tried to tear
+      herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her there
+      standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring forlornly into
+      the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ready, Bugs?&rdquo; asked Mr. Burrowes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The coming champion nodded carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to it,&rdquo; said Mr. Burrowes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      4
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained
+      expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler. In other fields the
+      amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with the man who has
+      made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at boxing never: and
+      the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he had laid this truth to
+      heart. It would be too little to say that his bearing was confident: he
+      comported himself with the care-free jauntiness of an infant about to
+      demolish a Noah's Ark with a tack-hammer. Cyclone Mullinses might
+      withstand him for fifteen rounds where they yielded to a K-leg Binns in
+      the fifth, but, when it came to beating up a sparring-partner and an
+      amateur at that, Bugs Butler knew his potentialities. He was there forty
+      ways and he did not attempt to conceal it. Crouching as was his wont, he
+      uncoiled himself like a striking rattlesnake and flicked Ginger lightly
+      over his guard. Then he returned to his crouch and circled sinuously about
+      the ring with the amiable intention of showing the crowd, payers and
+      deadheads alike, what real footwork was. If there was one thing on which
+      Bugs Butler prided himself, it was footwork.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The adverb &ldquo;lightly&rdquo; is a relative term, and the blow which had just
+      planted a dull patch on Ginger's cheekbone affected those present in
+      different degrees. Ginger himself appeared stolidly callous. Sally
+      shuddered to the core of her being and had to hold more tightly to the
+      rope to support herself. The two wise guys mocked openly. To the wise
+      guys, expert connoisseurs of swat, the thing had appeared richly farcical.
+      They seemed to consider the blow, administered to a third party and not to
+      themselves, hardly worth calling a blow at all. Two more, landing as
+      quickly and neatly as the first, left them equally cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call that punching?&rdquo; said the first wise guy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the second wise guy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mr. Butler, if he heard this criticism&mdash;and it is probable that
+      he did&mdash;for the wise ones had been restrained by no delicacy of
+      feeling from raising their voices, was in no way discommoded by it. Bugs
+      Butler knew what he was about. Bright eyes were watching him, and he meant
+      to give them a treat. The girls like smooth work. Any roughneck could sail
+      into a guy and knock the daylights out of him, but how few could be clever
+      and flashy and scientific? Few, few, indeed, thought Mr. Butler as he slid
+      in and led once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something solid smote Mr. Butler's nose, rocking him on to his heels and
+      inducing an unpleasant smarting sensation about his eyes. He backed away
+      and regarded Ginger with astonishment, almost with pain. Until this moment
+      he had scarcely considered him as an active participant in the scene at
+      all, and he felt strongly that this sort of thing was bad form. It was not
+      being done by sparring-partners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A juster man might have reflected that he himself was to blame. He had
+      undeniably been careless. In the very act of leading he had allowed his
+      eyes to flicker sideways to see how Sally was taking this exhibition of
+      science, and he had paid the penalty. Nevertheless, he was piqued. He
+      shimmered about the ring, thinking it over. And the more he thought it
+      over, the less did he approve of his young assistant's conduct. Hard
+      thoughts towards Ginger began to float in his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger, too, was thinking hard thoughts. He had not had an easy time since
+      he had come to the training camp, but never till to-day had he experienced
+      any resentment towards his employer. Until this afternoon Bugs Butler had
+      pounded him honestly and without malice, and he had gone through it, as
+      the other sparring-partners did, phlegmatically, taking it as part of the
+      day's work. But this afternoon there had been a difference. Those careless
+      flicks had been an insult, a deliberate offence. The man was trying to
+      make a fool of him, playing to the gallery: and the thought of who was in
+      that gallery inflamed Ginger past thought of consequences. No one, not
+      even Mr. Butler, was more keenly alive than he to the fact that in a
+      serious conflict with a man who to-morrow night might be light-weight
+      champion of the world he stood no chance whatever: but he did not intend
+      to be made an exhibition of in front of Sally without doing something to
+      hold his end up. He proposed to go down with his flag flying, and in
+      pursuance of this object he dug Mr. Butler heavily in the lower ribs with
+      his right, causing that expert to clinch and the two wise guys to utter
+      sharp barking sounds expressive of derision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, what the hell d'ya think you're getting at?&rdquo; demanded the aggrieved
+      pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger's ear as they fell into the
+      embrace. &ldquo;What's the idea, you jelly bean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger maintained a pink silence. His jaw was set, and the temper which
+      Nature had bestowed upon him to go with his hair had reached white heat.
+      He dodged a vicious right which whizzed up at his chin out of the breaking
+      clinch, and rushed. A left hook shook him, but was too high to do more.
+      There was rough work in the far corner, and suddenly with startling
+      abruptness Bugs Butler, bothered by the ropes at his back and trying to
+      side-step, ran into a swing and fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time!&rdquo; shouted the scandalized Mr. Burrowes, utterly aghast at this
+      frightful misadventure. In the whole course of his professional experience
+      he could recall no such devastating occurrence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The audience was no less startled. There was audible gasping. The
+      newspaper men looked at each other with a wild surmise and conjured up
+      pleasant pictures of their sporting editors receiving this sensational
+      item of news later on over the telephone. The two wise guys, continuing to
+      pursue Mr. Butler with their dislike, emitted loud and raucous laughs, and
+      one of them, forming his hands into a megaphone, urged the fallen warrior
+      to go away and get a rep. As for Sally, she was conscious of a sudden,
+      fierce, cave-womanly rush of happiness which swept away completely the
+      sickening qualms of the last few minutes. Her teeth were clenched and her
+      eyes blazed with joyous excitement. She looked at Ginger yearningly,
+      longing to forget a gentle upbringing and shout congratulation to him. She
+      was proud of him. And mingled with the pride was a curious feeling that
+      was almost fear. This was not the mild and amiable young man whom she was
+      wont to mother through the difficulties of a world in which he was
+      unfitted to struggle for himself. This was a new Ginger, a stranger to
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the rare occasions on which he had been knocked down in the past, it
+      had been Bugs Butler's canny practice to pause for a while and rest before
+      rising and continuing the argument, but now he was up almost before he had
+      touched the boards, and the satire of the second wise guy, who had begun
+      to saw the air with his hand and count loudly, lost its point. It was only
+      too plain that Mr. Butler's motto was that a man may be down, but he is
+      never out. And, indeed, the knock-down had been largely a stumble. Bugs
+      Butler's educated feet, which had carried him unscathed through so many
+      contests, had for this single occasion managed to get themselves crossed
+      just as Ginger's blow landed, and it was to his lack of balance rather
+      than the force of the swing that his downfall had been due.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time!&rdquo; he snarled, casting a malevolent side-glance at his manager. &ldquo;Like
+      hell it's time!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And in a whirlwind of flying gloves he flung himself upon Ginger, driving
+      him across the ring, while Mr. Burrowes, watch in hand, stared with
+      dropping jaw. If Ginger had seemed a new Ginger to Sally, still more did
+      this seem a new Bugs Butler to Mr. Burrowes, and the manager groaned in
+      spirit. Coolness, skill and science&mdash;these had been the qualities in
+      his protégé which had always so endeared him to Mr. Lester Burrowes and
+      had so enriched their respective bank accounts: and now, on the eve of the
+      most important fight in his life, before an audience of newspaper men, he
+      had thrown them all aside and was making an exhibition of himself with a
+      common sparring-partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the bitter blow to Mr. Burrowes. Had this lapse into the
+      unscientific primitive happened in a regular fight, he might have mourned
+      and poured reproof into Bug's ear when he got him back in his corner at
+      the end of the round; but he would not have experienced this feeling of
+      helpless horror&mdash;the sort of horror an elder of the church might feel
+      if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the fascination of
+      jazz. It was the fact that Bugs Butler was lowering himself to extend his
+      powers against a sparring-partner that shocked Mr. Burrowes. There is an
+      etiquette in these things. A champion may batter his sparring-partners
+      into insensibility if he pleases, but he must do it with nonchalance. He
+      must not appear to be really trying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And nothing could be more manifest than that Bugs Butler was trying. His
+      whole fighting soul was in his efforts to corner Ginger and destroy him.
+      The battle was raging across the ring and down the ring, and up the ring
+      and back again; yet always Ginger, like a storm-driven ship, contrived
+      somehow to weather the tempest. Out of the flurry of swinging arms he
+      emerged time after time bruised, bleeding, but fighting hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For Bugs Butler's fury was defeating its object. Had he remained his cool
+      and scientific self, he could have demolished Ginger and cut through his
+      defence in a matter of seconds. But he had lapsed back into the methods of
+      his unskilled novitiate. He swung and missed, swung and missed again,
+      struck but found no vital spot. And now there was blood on his face, too.
+      In some wild mêlée the sacred fount had been tapped, and his teeth gleamed
+      through a crimson mist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Wise Guys were beyond speech. They were leaning against one another,
+      punching each other feebly in the back. One was crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then suddenly the end came, as swiftly and unexpectedly as the thing
+      had begun. His wild swings had tired Bugs Butler, and with fatigue
+      prudence returned to him. His feet began once more their subtle weaving in
+      and out. Twice his left hand flickered home. A quick feint, a short,
+      jolting stab, and Ginger's guard was down and he was swaying in the middle
+      of the ring, his hands hanging and his knees a-quiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bugs Butler measured his distance, and Sally shut her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV. MR. ABRAHAMS RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringing
+      happiness to others. Bugs Butler's mood, accordingly, when some thirty
+      hours after the painful episode recorded in the last chapter he awoke from
+      a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to discover that Mr. Lew Lucas
+      had knocked him out in the middle of the third round, should have been one
+      of quiet contentment. His inability to block a short left-hook followed by
+      a right to the point of the jaw had ameliorated quite a number of
+      existences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased. So were Mr. Lucas's
+      seconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him. And most of the crowd,
+      who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted. Yet Bugs Butler
+      did not rejoice. It is not too much to say that his peevish bearing struck
+      a jarring note in the general gaiety. A heavy frown disfigured his face as
+      he slouched from the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the happiness which he had spread went on spreading. The two Wise
+      Guys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received the
+      result on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer by
+      five hundred dollars. The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore Nicholas
+      Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. caused remark in the Subway by whooping
+      gleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for he, too, had
+      been rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr. Butler's chin. And it
+      was with fierce satisfaction that Sally, breakfasting in her little
+      apartment, informed herself through the sporting page of the details of
+      the contender's downfall. She was not a girl who disliked many people, but
+      she had acquired a lively distaste for Bugs Butler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lew Lucas seemed a man after her own heart. If he had been a personal
+      friend of Ginger's he could not, considering the brief time at his
+      disposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness. In round one he had
+      done all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler's left eye: in round two
+      he had continued the good work on that gentleman's body; and in round
+      three he had knocked him out. Could anyone have done more? Sally thought
+      not, and she drank Lew Lucas's health in a cup of coffee and hoped his old
+      mother was proud of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The telephone bell rang at her elbow. She unhooked the receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hullo,&rdquo; said a voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger!&rdquo; cried Sally delightedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, I'm awfully glad you're back. I only got your letter this morning.
+      Found it at the boarding-house. I happened to look in there and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; interrupted Sally, &ldquo;your voice is music, but I want to see you.
+      Where are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm at a chemist's shop across the street. I was wondering if...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come here at once!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, may I? I was just going to ask.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You miserable creature, why haven't you been round to see me before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been going about much for the last
+      day. You see...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. Of course.&rdquo; Quick sympathy came into Sally's voice. She gave a
+      sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the large picture of Lew
+      Lucas which beamed up at her from the morning paper. &ldquo;You poor thing! How
+      are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all right, thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not much to look at, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never were. Stop talking and hurry over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to say...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally hung up the receiver firmly. She waited eagerly for some minutes,
+      and then footsteps came along the passage. They stopped at her door and
+      the bell rang. Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and recoiled in
+      consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Ginger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not much
+      to look at. He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right eye, but
+      the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull purple. A
+      great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with some difficulty
+      through swollen lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all right, you know,&rdquo; he assured her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't. It's awful! Oh, you poor darling!&rdquo; She clenched her teeth
+      viciously. &ldquo;I wish he had killed him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him. Brute!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know, you know.&rdquo; Ginger's sense of fairness compelled him to
+      defend his late employer against these harsh sentiments. &ldquo;He isn't a bad
+      sort of chap, really. Bugs Butler, I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don't loathe the
+      creature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he's all right. See his point of view and all that. Can't blame him,
+      if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit in the circs.
+      Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at him like that.
+      Naturally he didn't think it much of a wheeze. It was my fault right
+      along. Oughtn't to have done it, of course, but somehow, when he started
+      making an ass of me and I knew you were looking on... well, it seemed a
+      good idea to have a dash at doing something on my own. No right to, of
+      course. A sparring-partner isn't supposed...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger sat down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;you're too good to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chain you'd
+      say there were faults on both sides or something. I'm just a cat, and I
+      say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished miserably. I'd have
+      gone and danced on his grave... But whatever made you go in for that sort
+      of thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it seemed the only job that was going at the moment. I've always
+      done a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and it looked
+      to me rather an opening. Gave me something to get along with. You get paid
+      quite fairly decently, you know, and it's rather a jolly life...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jolly? Being hammered about like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you don't notice it much. I've always enjoyed scrapping rather. And,
+      you see, when your brother gave me the push...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally uttered an exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an extraordinary thing it is&mdash;I went all the way out to White
+      Plains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and I
+      didn't say a word about it. And I haven't seen or been able to get hold of
+      him since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No? Busy sort of cove, your brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did Fillmore let you go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up. A kind of
+      misunderstanding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it was nothing. Just a...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment. He looked
+      awkwardly about the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not worth talking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is worth talking about. I've a right to know. It was I who sent you to
+      Fillmore...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that,&rdquo; said Ginger, &ldquo;was jolly decent of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let
+      you go without saying a word to me. What happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it was rather unfortunate. You see, his wife&mdash;I don't know if
+      you know her?...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I know her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean,&rdquo; said
+      Ginger acutely. &ldquo;Though, as a matter of fact, you often find
+      sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a
+      fellow...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;it's no good your thinking you can get out of
+      telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and
+      relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a
+      corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling
+      about...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fooling about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, kind of chivvying each other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chivvying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sort of chasing her a bit, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's embarrassment increased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when I
+      happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was there till
+      she suddenly grabbed it...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grabbed what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it...
+      collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back
+      and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy her
+      to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened to roll
+      in. I suppose,&rdquo; said Ginger, putting two and two together, &ldquo;he had really
+      come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for a minute or
+      two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he was
+      considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife.
+      Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it,&rdquo; said Ginger, ever
+      fair-minded. &ldquo;Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but a bit later in
+      the day he called me in and administered the push.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took
+      from you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, just something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally rapped the table imperiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as a matter of fact,&rdquo; said her goaded visitor, &ldquo;It was a
+      photograph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well... you, to be absolutely accurate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me?&rdquo; Sally stared. &ldquo;But I've never given you a photograph of myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't exactly give it to me,&rdquo; he mumbled. &ldquo;When I say give, I
+      mean...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good gracious!&rdquo; Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally. &ldquo;That photograph we
+      were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen it all the time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, I did sort of pinch it...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it.&rdquo; She
+      gazed at him almost with respect. &ldquo;I never knew you were so deep and
+      snaky. I'm discovering all sorts of new things about you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a brief silence. Ginger, confession over, seemed a trifle
+      happier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you're not frightfully sick about it?&rdquo; he said at length. &ldquo;It was
+      lying about, you know, and I rather felt I must have it. Hadn't the cheek
+      to ask you for it, so...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't apologize,&rdquo; said Sally cordially. &ldquo;Great compliment. So I have
+      caused your downfall again, have I? I'm certainly your evil genius,
+      Ginger. I'm beginning to feel like a regular rag and a bone and a hank of
+      hair. First I egged you on to insult your family&mdash;oh, by the way, I
+      want to thank you about that. Now that I've met your Uncle Donald I can
+      see how public-spirited you were. I ruined your prospects there, and now
+      my fatal beauty&mdash;cabinet size&mdash;has led to your destruction once
+      more. It's certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, really, I say, you mustn't bother. I shall be all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's my duty. Now what is there that you really can do? Burglary, of
+      course, but it's not respectable. You've tried being a waiter and a
+      prize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those seems to be just
+      right. Can't you suggest anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall wangle something, I expect.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but what? It must be something good this time. I don't want to be
+      walking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a street-cleaner. I
+      don't want to send for an express-man and find you popping up. My idea
+      would be to go to my bank to arrange an overdraft and be told the
+      president could give me two minutes and crawl in humbly and find you
+      prezzing away to beat the band in a big chair. Isn't there anything in the
+      world that you can do that's solid and substantial and will keep you out
+      of the poor-house in your old age? Think!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, if I had a bit of capital...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! The business man! And what,&rdquo; inquired Sally, &ldquo;would you do, Mr.
+      Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Run a dog-thingummy,&rdquo; said Ginger promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's a dog-thingummy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, a thingamajig. For dogs, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand. You will put things so
+      obscurely at first. Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving about? What
+      on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean a sort of place like fellows have. Breeding dogs, you know, and
+      selling them and winning prizes and all that. There are lots of them
+      about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a kennels?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a kennels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a weird mind you have, Ginger. You couldn't say kennels at first,
+      could you? That wouldn't have made it difficult enough. I suppose, if
+      anyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would say, 'Oh, at a
+      thingamajig for mutton chops'... Ginger, my lad, there is something in
+      this. I believe for the first time in our acquaintance you have spoken
+      something very nearly resembling a mouthful. You're wonderful with dogs,
+      aren't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm dashed keen on them, and I've studied them a bit. As a matter of
+      fact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn't much about dogs
+      that I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I believe you're a sort of honorary dog yourself. I could tell
+      it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville. You plunged into a
+      howling mass of about a million hounds of all species and just whispered
+      in their ears and they stopped at once. Why, the more one examines this,
+      the better it looks. I do believe it's the one thing you couldn't help
+      making a success of. It's very paying, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Works out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I've been
+      told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore's for
+      comfort. Let's say ninety-nine and be conservative. Ginger, you have hit
+      it. Say no more. You shall be the Dog King, the biggest thingamajigger for
+      dogs in the country. But how do you start?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into a
+      cove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out. That was what
+      made me think of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must start to-day. Or early to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Ginger doubtfully. &ldquo;Of course, there's the catch, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What catch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The capital. You've got to have that. This fellow wouldn't sell out under
+      five thousand dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll lend you five thousand dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally looked at him with exasperation. &ldquo;Ginger, I'd like to slap you,&rdquo; she
+      said. It was maddening, this intrusion of sentiment into business affairs.
+      Why, simply because he was a man and she was a woman, should she be
+      restrained from investing money in a sound commercial undertaking? If
+      Columbus had taken up this bone-headed stand towards Queen Isabella,
+      America would never have been discovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't take five thousand dollars off you,&rdquo; said Ginger firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's talking of taking it off me, as you call it?&rdquo; stormed Sally. &ldquo;Can't
+      you forget your burglarious career for a second? This isn't the same thing
+      as going about stealing defenceless girls' photographs. This is business.
+      I think you would make an enormous success of a dog-place, and you admit
+      you're good, so why make frivolous objections? Why shouldn't I put money
+      into a good thing? Don't you want me to get rich, or what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger was becoming confused. Argument had never been his strong point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's such a lot of money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To you, perhaps. Not to me. I'm a plutocrat. Five thousand dollars!
+      What's five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger pondered woodenly for a while. His was a literal mind, and he knew
+      nothing of Sally's finances beyond the fact that when he had first met her
+      she had come into a legacy of some kind. Moreover, he had been hugely
+      impressed by Fillmore's magnificence. It seemed plain enough that the
+      Nicholases were a wealthy family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like it, you know,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't have to like it,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;You just do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd have to let me pay you interest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let you? My lad, you'll have to pay me interest. What do you think this
+      is&mdash;a round game? It's a cold business deal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Topping!&rdquo; said Ginger relieved. &ldquo;How about twenty-five per cent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be silly,&rdquo; said Sally quickly. &ldquo;I want three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, that's all rot,&rdquo; protested Ginger. &ldquo;I mean to say&mdash;three. I
+      don't,&rdquo; he went on, making a concession, &ldquo;mind saying twenty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you insist, I'll make it five. Not more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, ten, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; said Ginger insinuatingly, &ldquo;I said seven?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never saw anyone like you for haggling,&rdquo; said Sally with disapproval.
+      &ldquo;Listen! Six. And that's my last word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger did sums in his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year. It isn't
+      enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort of deal
+      in my life. Six! Do you agree?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then that's settled. Is this man you talk about in New York?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south shore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him
+      up. Don't waste a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger paused at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, you're absolutely sure about this?&rdquo;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to say...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get on,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street which, while
+      not one of the city's important arteries, was capable, nevertheless, of
+      affording a certain amount of entertainment to the observer: and after
+      Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to the window-sill and
+      proceeded to divide her attention between a third reading of the
+      fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It was a beautiful day,
+      and the outer world was looking its best.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped at
+      the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her
+      brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver,
+      and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a large shadow
+      in the sunshine. Sally was on the point of calling to him, when his
+      behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practising the
+      steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would do next kept
+      Sally watching in silence. First, he moved in a resolute sort of way
+      towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled back. This
+      movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep thought before
+      making another dash for the door, which, like the others, came to an
+      abrupt end as though he had run into some invisible obstacle. And,
+      finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off down the street and was lost to
+      view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally could make nothing of it. If Fillmore had taken the trouble to come
+      in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned the idea
+      at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mystery when the
+      telephone-bell rang, and her brother's voice spoke huskily in her ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo, Fill. What are you going to call it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What am I... Call what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dance you were doing outside here just now. It's your own invention,
+      isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see me?&rdquo; said Fillmore, upset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I saw you. I was fascinated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;er&mdash;I was coming to have a talk with you. Sally...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fillmore's voice trailed off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, why didn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause&mdash;on Fillmore's part, if the timbre of at his voice
+      correctly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort. Something was
+      plainly vexing Fillmore's great mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally,&rdquo; he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to
+      see you very shortly. Will you be in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is very well. A trifle&mdash;a little upset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upset? What about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will tell you when she arrives. I have just been 'phoning to her. She
+      is coming at once.&rdquo; There was another pause. &ldquo;I'm afraid she has bad
+      news.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What news?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was silence at the other end of the wire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What news?&rdquo; repeated Sally, a little sharply. She hated mysteries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Fillmore had rung off. Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully. She
+      was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gained by
+      worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and tried to
+      divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bell brought
+      her out, to find her sister-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Marriage, even though it had brought with it the lofty position of
+      partnership with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no
+      noticeable alteration in the former Miss Winch. As Mrs. Fillmore she was
+      the same square, friendly creature. She hugged Sally in a muscular manner
+      and went on in the sitting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's great seeing you again,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I began to think you were
+      never coming back. What was the big idea, springing over to England like
+      that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had been expecting the question, and answered it with composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to help Mr. Faucitt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's Mr. Faucitt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasn't Fillmore ever mentioned him? He was a dear old man at the
+      boarding-house, and his brother died and left him a dressmaking
+      establishment in London. He screamed to me to come and tell him what to do
+      about it. He has sold it now and is quite happy in the country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the trip's done you good,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore. &ldquo;You're prettier
+      than ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. Already, in these trivial opening exchanges, Sally had
+      sensed a suggestion of unwonted gravity in her companion. She missed that
+      careless whimsicality which had been the chief characteristic of Miss
+      Gladys Winch and seemed to have been cast off by Mrs. Fillmore Nicholas.
+      At their meeting, before she had spoken, Sally had not noticed this, but
+      now it was apparent that something was weighing on her companion. Mrs.
+      Fillmore's honest eyes were troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the bad news?&rdquo; asked Sally abruptly. She wanted to end the
+      suspense. &ldquo;Fillmore was telling me over the 'phone that you had some bad
+      news for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fillmore scratched at the carpet for a moment with the end of her
+      parasol without replying. When she spoke it was not in answer to the
+      question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally, who's this man Carmyle over in England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, did Fillmore tell you about him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
+      you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's momentary annoyance faded. She could hardly, she felt, have
+      expected Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That's true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You couldn't write and say you've changed your mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's annoyance returned. All her life she had been intensely
+      independent, resentful of interference with her private concerns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I could if I had&mdash;but I haven't. Did Fillmore tell you to
+      try to talk me round?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm not trying to talk you round,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore quickly.
+      &ldquo;Goodness knows, I'm the last person to try and jolly anyone into marrying
+      anybody if they didn't feel like it. I've seen too many marriages go wrong
+      to do that. Look at Elsa Doland.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally's heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Elsa?&rdquo; she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook. &ldquo;Has&mdash;has
+      her marriage gone wrong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone all to bits,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore shortly. &ldquo;You remember she married
+      Gerald Foster, the man who wrote 'The Primrose Way'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's all gone bloo-ey. I'll tell you about that in a minute. Coming
+      back to this man in England, if you're in any doubt about it... I mean,
+      you can't always tell right away whether you're fond of a man or not...
+      When first I met Fillmore, I couldn't see him with a spy-glass, and now
+      he's just the whole shooting-match... But that's not what I wanted to talk
+      about. I was saying one doesn't always know one's own mind at first, and
+      if this fellow really is a good fellow... and Fillmore tells me he's got
+      all the money in the world...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stopped her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it's no good. I don't want to marry Mr. Carmyle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's that, then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore. &ldquo;It's a pity, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why are you taking it so much to heart?&rdquo; said Sally with a nervous laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well...&rdquo; Mrs. Fillmore paused. Sally's anxiety was growing. It must, she
+      realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if it had the
+      power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in her talk. &ldquo;You
+      see...&rdquo; went on Mrs. Fillmore, and stopped again. &ldquo;Gee! I'm hating this!&rdquo;
+       she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it? I don't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll find it's all too darned clear by the time I'm through,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Fillmore mournfully. &ldquo;If I'm going to explain this thing, I guess I'd best
+      start at the beginning. You remember that revue of Fillmore's&mdash;the
+      one we both begged him not to put on. It flopped!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It flopped on the road and died there. Never got to New York at all.
+      Ike Schumann wouldn't let Fillmore have a theatre. The book wanted fixing
+      and the numbers wanted fixing and the scenery wasn't right: and while they
+      were tinkering with all that there was trouble about the cast and the
+      Actors Equity closed the show. Best thing that could have happened,
+      really, and I was glad at the time, because going on with it would only
+      have meant wasting more money, and it had cost a fortune already. After
+      that Fillmore put on a play of Gerald Foster's and that was a frost, too.
+      It ran a week at the Booth. I hear the new piece he's got in rehearsal now
+      is no good either. It's called 'The Wild Rose,' or something. But
+      Fillmore's got nothing to do with that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But...&rdquo; Sally tried to speak, but Mrs. Fillmore went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't talk just yet, or I shall never get this thing straight. Well, you
+      know Fillmore, poor darling. Anyone else would have pulled in his horns
+      and gone slow for a spell, but he's one of those fellows whose horse is
+      always going to win the next race. The big killing is always just round
+      the corner with him. Funny how you can see what a chump a man is and yet
+      love him to death... I remember saying something like that to you
+      before... He thought he could get it all back by staging this fight of his
+      that came off in Jersey City last night. And if everything had gone right
+      he might have got afloat again. But it seems as if he can't touch anything
+      without it turning to mud. On the very day before the fight was to come
+      off, the poor mutt who was going against the champion goes and lets a
+      sparring-partner of his own knock him down and fool around with him. With
+      all the newspaper men there too! You probably saw about it in the papers.
+      It made a great story for them. Well, that killed the whole thing. The
+      public had never been any too sure that this fellow Bugs Butler had a
+      chance of putting up a scrap with the champion that would be worth paying
+      to see; and, when they read that he couldn't even stop his
+      sparring-partners slamming him all around the place they simply decided to
+      stay away. Poor old Fill! It was a finisher for him. The house wasn't a
+      quarter full, and after he'd paid these two pluguglies their guarantees,
+      which they insisted on having before they'd so much as go into the ring,
+      he was just about cleaned out. So there you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had listened with dismay to this catalogue of misfortunes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor Fill!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;How dreadful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty tough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But 'The Primrose Way' is a big success, isn't it?&rdquo; said Sally, anxious
+      to discover something of brightness in the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was.&rdquo; Mrs. Fillmore flushed again. &ldquo;This is the part I hate having to
+      tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was? Do you mean it isn't still? I thought Elsa had made such a
+      tremendous hit. I read about it when I was over in London. It was even in
+      one of the English papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, she made a hit all right,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore drily. &ldquo;She made such
+      a hit that all the other managements in New York were after her right
+      away, and Fillmore had hardly sailed when she handed in her notice and
+      signed up with Goble and Cohn for a new piece they are starring her in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, she couldn't!&rdquo; cried Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, she did! She's out on the road with it now. I had to break the
+      news to poor old Fillmore at the dock when he landed. It was rather a
+      blow. I must say it wasn't what I would call playing the game. I know
+      there isn't supposed to be any sentiment in business, but after all we had
+      given Elsa her big chance. But Fillmore wouldn't put her name up over the
+      theatre in electrics, and Goble and Cohn made it a clause in her contract
+      that they would, so nothing else mattered. People are like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Elsa... She used not to be like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They all get that way. They must grab success if it's to be grabbed. I
+      suppose you can't blame them. You might just as well expect a cat to keep
+      off catnip. Still, she might have waited to the end of the New York run.&rdquo;
+       Mrs. Fillmore put out her hand and touched Sally's. &ldquo;Well, I've got it out
+      now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and, believe me, it was one rotten job. You don't know
+      how sorry I am. Sally. I wouldn't have had it happen for a million
+      dollars. Nor would Fillmore. I'm not sure that I blame him for getting
+      cold feet and backing out of telling you himself. He just hadn't the nerve
+      to come and confess that he had fooled away your money. He was hoping all
+      along that this fight would pan out big and that he'd be able to pay you
+      back what you had loaned him, but things didn't happen right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was silent. She was thinking how strange it was that this room in
+      which she had hoped to be so happy had been from the first moment of her
+      occupancy a storm centre of bad news and miserable disillusionment. In
+      this first shock of the tidings, it was the disillusionment that hurt
+      most. She had always been so fond of Elsa, and Elsa had always seemed so
+      fond of her. She remembered that letter of Elsa's with all its
+      protestations of gratitude... It wasn't straight. It was horrible.
+      Callous, selfish, altogether horrible...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's...&rdquo; She choked, as a rush of indignation brought the tears to her
+      eyes. &ldquo;It's... beastly! I'm... I'm not thinking about my money. That's
+      just bad luck. But Elsa...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fillmore shrugged her square shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's happening all the time in the show business,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And
+      in every other business, too, I guess, if one only knew enough about them
+      to be able to say. Of course, it hits you hard because Elsa was a pal of
+      yours, and you're thinking she might have considered you after all you've
+      done for her. I can't say I'm much surprised myself.&rdquo; Mrs. Fillmore was
+      talking rapidly, and dimly Sally understood that she was talking so that
+      talk would carry her over this bad moment. Silence now would have been
+      unendurable. &ldquo;I was in the company with her, and it sometimes seems to me
+      as if you can't get to know a person right through till you've been in the
+      same company with them. Elsa's all right, but she's two people really,
+      like these dual identity cases you read about. She's awfully fond of you.
+      I know she is. She was always saying so, and it was quite genuine. If it
+      didn't interfere with business there's nothing she wouldn't do for you.
+      But when it's a case of her career you don't count. Nobody counts. Not
+      even her husband. Now that's funny. If you think that sort of thing funny.
+      Personally, it gives me the willies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's funny?&rdquo; asked Sally, dully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you weren't there, so you didn't see it, but I was on the spot all
+      the time, and I know as well as I know anything that he simply married her
+      because he thought she could get him on in the game. He hardly paid any
+      attention to her at all till she was such a riot in Chicago, and then he
+      was all over her. And now he's got stung. She throws down his show and
+      goes off to another fellow's. It's like marrying for money and finding the
+      girl hasn't any. And she's got stung, too, in a way, because I'm pretty
+      sure she married him mostly because she thought he was going to be the
+      next big man in the play-writing business and could boost her up the
+      ladder. And now it doesn't look as though he had another success in him.
+      The result is they're at outs. I hear he's drinking. Somebody who'd seen
+      him told me he had gone all to pieces. You haven't seen him, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought maybe you might have run into him. He lives right opposite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally clutched at the arm of her chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lives right opposite? Gerald Foster? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Across the passage there,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore, jerking her thumb at the
+      door. &ldquo;Didn't you know? That's right, I suppose you didn't. They moved in
+      after you had beaten it for England. Elsa wanted to be near you, and she
+      was tickled to death when she found there was an apartment to be had right
+      across from you. Now, that just proves what I was saying a while ago about
+      Elsa. If she wasn't fond of you, would she go out of her way to camp next
+      door? And yet, though she's so fond of you, she doesn't hesitate about
+      wrecking your property by quitting the show when she sees a chance of
+      doing herself a bit of good. It's funny, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The telephone-bell, tinkling sharply, rescued Sally from the necessity of
+      a reply. She forced herself across the room to answer it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger's voice spoke jubilantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo. Are you there? I say, it's all right, about that binge, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That dog fellow, you know,&rdquo; said Ginger, with a slight diminution of
+      exuberance. His sensitive ear had seemed to detect a lack of animation in
+      her voice. &ldquo;I've just been talking to him over the 'phone, and it's all
+      settled. If,&rdquo; he added, with a touch of doubt, &ldquo;you still feel like going
+      into it, I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an instant in which Sally hesitated, but it was only an instant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course,&rdquo; she said, steadily. &ldquo;Why should you think I had changed
+      my mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I thought... that is to say, you seemed... oh, I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You imagine things. I was a little worried about something when you
+      called me up, and my mind wasn't working properly. Of course, go ahead
+      with it. Ginger. I'm delighted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, I'm awfully sorry you're worried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh. it's all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing that'll kill me. I'm young and strong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger was silent for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, I don't want to butt in, but can I do anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, really, Ginger, I know you would do anything you could, but this is
+      just something I must worry through by myself. When do you go down to this
+      place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of popping down this afternoon, just to take a look
+      round.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me know what train you're making and I'll come and see you off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's ripping of you. Right ho. Well, so long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So long,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fillmore, who had been sitting in that state of suspended animation
+      which comes upon people who are present at a telephone conversation which
+      has nothing to do with themselves, came to life as Sally replaced the
+      receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I think we ought to have a talk now about what you're
+      going to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was not feeling equal to any discussion of the future. All she asked
+      of the world at the moment was to be left alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right. I shall manage. You ought to be worrying about
+      Fillmore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore's got me to look after him,&rdquo; said Gladys, with quiet
+      determination. &ldquo;You're the one that's on my mind. I lay awake all last
+      night thinking about you. As far as I can make out from Fillmore, you've
+      still a few thousand dollars left. Well, as it happens, I can put you on
+      to a really good thing. I know a girl...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid,&rdquo; interrupted Sally, &ldquo;all the rest of my money, what there is
+      of it, is tied up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't get hold of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But listen,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently. &ldquo;This is a really good thing.
+      This girl I know started an interior decorating business some time ago and
+      is pulling in the money in handfuls. But she wants more capital, and she's
+      willing to let go of a third of the business to anyone who'll put in a few
+      thousand. She won't have any difficulty getting it, but I 'phoned her this
+      morning to hold off till I'd heard from you. Honestly, Sally, it's the
+      chance of a lifetime. It would put you right on easy street. Isn't there
+      really any way you could get your money out of this other thing and take
+      on this deal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There really isn't. I'm awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear, but it's
+      impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her
+      parasol, &ldquo;I don't know what you've gone into, but, unless they've given
+      you a share in the Mint or something, you'll be losing by not making the
+      switch. You're sure you can't do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know best, of course. Gosh! What a muddle everything is.
+      Sally,&rdquo; she said, suddenly stopping at the door, &ldquo;you're not going to hate
+      poor old Fillmore over this, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course not. The whole thing was just bad luck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's worried stiff about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, give him my love, and tell him not to be so silly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Fillmore crossed the room and kissed Sally impulsively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're an angel,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I wish there were more like you. But I guess
+      they've lost the pattern. Well, I'll go back and tell Fillmore that. It'll
+      relieve him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door closed, and Sally sat down with her chin in her hands to think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Isadore Abrahams, the founder and proprietor of that deservedly
+      popular dancing resort poetically named &ldquo;The Flower Garden,&rdquo; leaned back
+      in his chair with a contented sigh and laid down the knife and fork with
+      which he had been assailing a plateful of succulent goulash. He was
+      dining, as was his admirable custom, in the bosom of his family at his
+      residence at Far Rockaway. Across the table, his wife, Rebecca, beamed at
+      him over her comfortable plinth of chins, and round the table his
+      children, David, Jacob, Morris and Saide, would have beamed at him if they
+      had not been too busy at the moment ingurgitating goulash. A genial,
+      honest, domestic man was Mr. Abrahams, a credit to the community.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pa?&rdquo; said Mrs. Abrahams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Knew there was something I'd meant to tell you,&rdquo; said Mr. Abrahams,
+      absently chasing a piece of bread round his plate with a stout finger.
+      &ldquo;You remember that girl I told you about some time back&mdash;girl working
+      at the Garden&mdash;girl called Nicholas, who came into a bit of money and
+      threw up her job...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember. You liked her. Jakie, dear, don't gobble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't gobbling,&rdquo; said Master Abrahams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody liked her,&rdquo; said Mr. Abrahams. &ldquo;The nicest girl I ever hired,
+      and I don't hire none but nice girls, because the Garden's a nice place,
+      and I like to run it nice. I wouldn't give you a nickel for any of your
+      tough joints where you get nothing but low-lifes and scare away all the
+      real folks. Everybody liked Sally Nicholas. Always pleasant and always
+      smiling, and never anything but the lady. It was a treat to have her
+      around. Well, what do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Abrahams, apprehensively. The story had sounded to
+      her as though it were heading that way. &ldquo;Wipe your mouth, Jakie dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not dead,&rdquo; said Mr. Abrahams, conscious for the first time that the
+      remainder of his narrative might be considered by a critic something of an
+      anti-climax and lacking in drama. &ldquo;But she was in to see me this afternoon
+      and wants her job back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Mrs. Abrahams, rather tonelessly. An ardent supporter of the
+      local motion-picture palace, she had hoped for a slightly more gingery
+      denouement, something with a bit more punch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but don't it show you?&rdquo; continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly trying to
+      work up the interest. &ldquo;There's this girl, goes out of my place not more'n
+      a year ago, with a good bank-roll in her pocket, and here she is, back
+      again, all of it spent. Don't it show you what a tragedy life is, if you
+      see what I mean, and how careful one ought to be about money? It's what I
+      call a human document. Goodness knows how she's been and gone and spent it
+      all. I'd never have thought she was the sort of girl to go gadding around.
+      Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's gadding, Pop?&rdquo; asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
+      chain his interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
+      back again. There's class to that girl. She's the sort of girl I want in
+      the place. Don't seem quite to have so much get-up in her as she used
+      to... seems kind of quieted down... but she's got class, and I'm glad
+      she's back. I hope she'll stay. But don't it show you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before. It had not
+      worked out such a bad story after all. In its essentials it was not unlike
+      the film she had seen the previous evening&mdash;Gloria Gooch in &ldquo;A Girl
+      against the World.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pop!&rdquo; said Master Abrahams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Jakie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I'm grown up, I won't never lose no money. I'll put it in the bank
+      and save it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally's troubles left
+      Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a good boy, Jakie,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and bent
+      forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV. UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There is in certain men&mdash;and Bruce Carmyle was one of them&mdash;a
+      quality of resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids
+      them as effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner
+      and more practical kind. As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle resembled that durable
+      type of pugilist who can only give of his best after he has received at
+      least one substantial wallop on some tender spot. Although Sally had
+      refused his offer of marriage quite definitely at Monk's Crofton, it had
+      never occurred to him to consider the episode closed. All his life he had
+      been accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he meant to get it now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was quite sure that he wanted Sally. There had been moments when he had
+      been conscious of certain doubts, but in the smart of temporary defeat
+      these had vanished. That streak of Bohemianism in her which from time to
+      time since their first meeting had jarred upon his orderly mind was
+      forgotten; and all that Mr. Carmyle could remember was the brightness of
+      her eyes, the jaunty lift of her chin, and the gallant trimness of her.
+      Her gay prettiness seemed to flick at him like a whip in the darkness of
+      wakeful nights, lashing him to pursuit. And quietly and methodically, like
+      a respectable wolf settling on the trail of a Red Riding Hood, he prepared
+      to pursue. Delicacy and imagination might have kept him back, but in these
+      qualities he had never been strong. One cannot have everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His preparations for departure, though he did his best to make them
+      swiftly and secretly, did not escape the notice of the Family. In many
+      English families there seems to exist a system of inter-communication and
+      news-distribution like that of those savage tribes in Africa who pass the
+      latest item of news and interest from point to point over miles of
+      intervening jungle by some telepathic method never properly explained. On
+      his last night in London, there entered to Bruce Carmyle at his apartment
+      in South Audley Street, the Family's chosen representative, the man to
+      whom the Family pointed with pride&mdash;Uncle Donald, in the flesh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were two hundred and forty pounds of the flesh Uncle Donald was in,
+      and the chair in which he deposited it creaked beneath its burden. Once,
+      at Monk's Crofton, Sally had spoiled a whole morning for her brother
+      Fillmore, by indicating Uncle Donald as the exact image of what he would
+      be when he grew up. A superstition, cherished from early schooldays, that
+      he had a weak heart had caused the Family's managing director to abstain
+      from every form of exercise for nearly fifty years; and, as he combined
+      with a distaste for exercise one of the three heartiest appetites in the
+      south-western postal division of London, Uncle Donald, at sixty-two, was
+      not a man one would willingly have lounging in one's armchairs. Bruce
+      Carmyle's customary respectfulness was tinged with something approaching
+      dislike as he looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Donald's walrus moustache heaved gently upon his laboured breath,
+      like seaweed on a ground-swell. There had been stairs to climb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's this? What's this?&rdquo; he contrived to ejaculate at last. &ldquo;You
+      packing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle, shortly. For the first time in his life he was
+      conscious of that sensation of furtive guilt which was habitual with his
+      cousin Ginger when in the presence of this large, mackerel-eyed man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You going away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This dialogue has been set down as though it had been as brisk and snappy
+      as any cross-talk between vaudeville comedians, but in reality Uncle
+      Donald's peculiar methods of conversation had stretched it over a period
+      of nearly three minutes: for after each reply and before each question he
+      had puffed and sighed and inhaled his moustache with such painful
+      deliberation that his companion's nerves were finding it difficult to bear
+      up under the strain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're going after that girl,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald, accusingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle flushed darkly. And it is interesting to record that at this
+      moment there flitted through his mind the thought that Ginger's behaviour
+      at Bleke's Coffee House, on a certain notable occasion, had not been so
+      utterly inexcusable as he had supposed. There was no doubt that the
+      Family's Chosen One could be trying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you have a whisky and soda, Uncle Donald?&rdquo; he said, by way of
+      changing the conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said his relative, in pursuance of a vow he had made in the early
+      eighties never to refuse an offer of this kind. &ldquo;Gimme!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      You would have thought that that would have put matters on a pleasanter
+      footing. But no. Having lapped up the restorative, Uncle Donald returned
+      to the attack quite un-softened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never thought you were a fool before,&rdquo; he said severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle's proud spirit chafed. This sort of interview, which had
+      become a commonplace with his cousin Ginger, was new to him. Hitherto, his
+      actions had received neither criticism nor been subjected to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a fool. A damn fool,&rdquo; continued Uncle Donald, specifying more
+      exactly. &ldquo;Don't like the girl. Never did. Not a nice girl. Didn't like
+      her. Right from the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Need we discuss this?&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle, dropping, as he was apt to do,
+      into the grand manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Head of the Family drank in a layer of moustache and blew it out
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Need we discuss it?&rdquo; he said with asperity. &ldquo;We're going to discuss it!
+      Whatch think I climbed all these blasted stairs for with my weak heart?
+      Gimme another!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle gave him another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'S a bad business,&rdquo; moaned Uncle Donald, having gone through the
+      movements once more. &ldquo;Shocking bad business. If your poor father were
+      alive, whatch think he'd say to your tearing across the world after this
+      girl? I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say... What kind of whisky's
+      this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O'Rafferty Special.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New to me. Not bad. Quite good. Sound. Mellow. Wherej get it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bilby's in Oxford Street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must order some. Mellow. He'd say... well, God knows what he'd say.
+      Whatch doing it for? Whatch doing it for? That's what I can't see. None of
+      us can see. Puzzles your uncle George. Baffles your aunt Geraldine. Nobody
+      can understand it. Girl's simply after your money. Anyone can see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, Uncle Donald,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle, stiffly, &ldquo;but that is surely
+      rather absurd. If that were the case, why should she have refused me at
+      Monk's Crofton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drawing you on,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald, promptly. &ldquo;Luring you on. Well-known
+      trick. Girl in 1881, when I was at Oxford, tried to lure me on. If I
+      hadn't had some sense and a weak heart... Whatch know of this girl? Whatch
+      know of her? That's the point. Who is she? Wherej meet her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I met her at Roville, in France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Travelling with her family?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Travelling alone,&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle, reluctantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even with that brother of hers? Bad!&rdquo; said Uncle Donald. &ldquo;Bad, bad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;American girls are accustomed to more independence than English girls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That young man,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald, pursuing a train of thought, &ldquo;is
+      going to be fat one of these days, if he doesn't look out. Travelling
+      alone, was she? What did you do? Catch her eye on the pier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, Uncle Donald!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, must have got to know her somehow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was introduced to her by Lancelot. She was a friend of his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lancelot!&rdquo; exploded Uncle Donald, quivering all over like a smitten jelly
+      at the loathed name. &ldquo;Well, that shows you what sort of a girl she is. Any
+      girl that would be a friend of... Unpack!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unpack! Mustn't go on with this foolery. Out of the question. Find some
+      girl make you a good wife. Your aunt Mary's been meeting some people name
+      of Bassington-Bassington, related Kent Bassington-Bassingtons... eldest
+      daughter charming girl, just do for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside the pages of the more old-fashioned type of fiction nobody ever
+      really ground his teeth, but Bruce Carmyle came nearer to it at that
+      moment than anyone had ever come before. He scowled blackly, and the last
+      trace of suavity left him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do nothing of the kind,&rdquo; he said briefly. &ldquo;I sail to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Donald had had a previous experience of being defied by a nephew,
+      but it had not accustomed him to the sensation. He was aware of an
+      unpleasant feeling of impotence. Nothing is harder than to know what to do
+      next when defied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle having started to defy, evidently decided to make a good job
+      of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am over twenty-one,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I am financially independent. I shall do
+      as I please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, consider!&rdquo; pleaded Uncle Donald, painfully conscious of the weakness
+      of his words. &ldquo;Reflect!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have reflected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your position in the county...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've thought of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You could marry anyone you pleased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are determined to go running off to God-knows-where after this Miss
+      I-can't-even-remember-her-dam-name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you considered,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald, portentously, &ldquo;that you owe a
+      duty to the Family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle's patience snapped and he sank like a stone to absolutely
+      Gingerian depths of plain-spokenness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, damn the Family!&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a painful silence, broken only by the relieved sigh of the
+      armchair as Uncle Donald heaved himself out of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After that,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald, &ldquo;I have nothing more to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good!&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle rudely, lost to all shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Cept this. If you come back married to that girl, I'll cut you in
+      Piccadilly. By George, I will!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He moved to the door. Bruce Carmyle looked down his nose without speaking.
+      A tense moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What,&rdquo; asked Uncle Donald, his fingers on the handle, &ldquo;did you say it was
+      called?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was what called?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That whisky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O'Rafferty Special.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And wherj get it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bilby's, in Oxford Street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll make a note of it,&rdquo; said Uncle Donald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI. AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And after all I've done for her,&rdquo; said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, his voice
+      tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combined effects of
+      anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock, &ldquo;after all
+      I've done for her she throws me down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not reply. The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of a calibre
+      that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having, moreover, too much
+      difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell's erratic dance-steps to
+      employ her attention elsewhere. They manoeuvred jerkily past the table
+      where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower Garden's newest &ldquo;hostess,&rdquo; sat
+      watching the revels with a distant hauteur. Miss Hobson was looking her
+      most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowful gulp escaped the
+      stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I told you,&rdquo; he moaned in Sally's ear, &ldquo;what... was that your ankle?
+      Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I had
+      spent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws me down.
+      And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn't spoken to
+      me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone. And I was
+      right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. But that,&rdquo; said
+      Mr. Cracknell, morosely, &ldquo;is a woman all over!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on
+      hers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpreted the
+      ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his last
+      remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mean you're like that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You're different. I could see
+      that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's why I'm
+      telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl and can
+      understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this job as
+      hostess here&mdash;you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred her
+      in a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave her
+      those. And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. I
+      wish you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know,
+      because you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. I don't
+      know what to do. I come here every night.&rdquo; Sally was aware of this. She
+      had seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee Schoenstein, the
+      gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him on her. &ldquo;I come here
+      every night and dance past her table, but she won't look at me. What,&rdquo;
+       asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes, &ldquo;would you do about
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Sally, frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor do I. I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,
+      broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, if you
+      can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?&rdquo; pleaded Mr.
+      Cracknell, urgently. &ldquo;But I know you won't because you're a sensible...
+      I'm giving her a little present. Having it brought here to-night. Little
+      present. That ought to soften her, don't you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A big one would do it better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Cracknell kicked her on the shin in a dismayed sort of way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought of that. Perhaps you're right. But it's too late now.
+      Still, it might. Or wouldn't it? Which do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought as much,&rdquo; said Mr. Cracknell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The orchestra stopped with a thump and a bang, leaving Mr. Cracknell
+      clapping feebly in the middle of the floor. Sally slipped back to her
+      table. Her late partner, after an uncertain glance about him, as if he had
+      mislaid something but could not remember what, zigzagged off in search of
+      his own seat. The noise of many conversations, drowned by the music, broke
+      out with renewed vigour. The hot, close air was full of voices; and Sally,
+      pressing her hands on her closed eyes, was reminded once more that she had
+      a headache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nearly a month had passed since her return to Mr. Abrahams' employment. It
+      had been a dull, leaden month, a monotonous succession of lifeless days
+      during which life had become a bad dream. In some strange nightmare
+      fashion, she seemed nowadays to be cut off from her kind. It was weeks
+      since she had seen a familiar face. None of the companions of her old
+      boarding-house days had crossed her path. Fillmore, no doubt from
+      uneasiness of conscience, had not sought her out, and Ginger was working
+      out his destiny on the south shore of Long Island.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She lowered her hands and opened her eyes and looked at the room. It was
+      crowded, as always. The Flower Garden was one of the many establishments
+      of the same kind which had swum to popularity on the rising flood of New
+      York's dancing craze; and doubtless because, as its proprietor had
+      claimed, it was a nice place and run nice, it had continued, unlike many
+      of its rivals, to enjoy unvarying prosperity. In its advertisement, it
+      described itself as &ldquo;a supper-club for after-theatre dining and dancing,&rdquo;
+       adding that &ldquo;large and spacious, and sumptuously appointed,&rdquo; it was &ldquo;one
+      of the town's wonder-places, with its incomparable dance-floor, enchanting
+      music, cuisine, and service de luxe.&rdquo; From which it may be gathered, even
+      without his personal statements to that effect, that Isadore Abrahams
+      thought well of the place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been a time when Sally had liked it, too. In her first period of
+      employment there she had found it diverting, stimulating and full of
+      entertainment. But in those days she had never had headaches or, what was
+      worse, this dreadful listless depression which weighed her down and made
+      her nightly work a burden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The orchestra, never silent for long at the Flower Garden, had started
+      again, and Lee Schoenstein, the master of ceremonies, was presenting a new
+      partner. She got up mechanically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the first time I have been in this place,&rdquo; said the man, as they
+      bumped over the crowded floor. He was big and clumsy, of course. To-night
+      it seemed to Sally that the whole world was big and clumsy. &ldquo;It's a swell
+      place. I come from up-state myself. We got nothing like this where I come
+      from.&rdquo; He cleared a space before him, using Sally as a battering-ram, and
+      Sally, though she had not enjoyed her recent excursion with Mr. Cracknell,
+      now began to look back to it almost with wistfulness. This man was
+      undoubtedly the worst dancer in America.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me li'l old New York,&rdquo; said the man from up-state, unpatriotically.
+      &ldquo;It's good enough for me. I been to some swell shows since I got to town.
+      You seen this year's 'Follies'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You go,&rdquo; said the man earnestly. &ldquo;You go! Take it from me, it's a swell
+      show. You seen 'Myrtle takes a Turkish Bath'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't go to many theatres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You go! It's a scream. I been to a show every night since I got here.
+      Every night regular. Swell shows all of 'em, except this last one. I
+      cert'nly picked a lemon to-night all right. I was taking a chance, y'see,
+      because it was an opening. Thought it would be something to say, when I
+      got home, that I'd been to a New York opening. Set me back
+      two-seventy-five, including tax, and I wish I'd got it in my kick right
+      now. 'The Wild Rose,' they called it,&rdquo; he said satirically, as if exposing
+      a low subterfuge on the part of the management. &ldquo;'The Wild Rose!' It sure
+      made me wild all right. Two dollars seventy-five tossed away, just like
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something stirred in Sally's memory. Why did that title seem so familiar?
+      Then, with a shock, she remembered. It was Gerald's new play. For some
+      time after her return to New York, she had been haunted by the fear lest,
+      coming out of her apartment, she might meet him coming out of his; and
+      then she had seen a paragraph in her morning paper which had relieved her
+      of this apprehension. Gerald was out on the road with a new play, and &ldquo;The
+      Wild Rose,&rdquo; she was almost sure, was the name of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that Gerald Foster's play?&rdquo; she asked quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know who wrote it,&rdquo; said her partner, &ldquo;but let me tell you he's
+      one lucky guy to get away alive. There's fellows breaking stones on the
+      Ossining Road that's done a lot less to deserve a sentence. Wild Rose!
+      I'll tell the world it made me go good and wild,&rdquo; said the man from
+      up-state, an economical soul who disliked waste and was accustomed to
+      spread out his humorous efforts so as to give them every chance. &ldquo;Why,
+      before the second act was over, the people were beating it for the exits,
+      and if it hadn't been for someone shouting 'Women and children first'
+      there'd have been a panic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally found herself back at her table without knowing clearly how she had
+      got there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started to rise, and was aware suddenly that this was not the voice of
+      duty calling her once more through the gold teeth of Mr. Schoenstein. The
+      man who had spoken her name had seated himself beside her, and was talking
+      in precise, clipped accents, oddly familiar. The mist cleared from her
+      eyes and she recognized Bruce Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I called at your place,&rdquo; Mr. Carmyle was saying, &ldquo;and the hall porter
+      told me that you were here, so I ventured to follow you. I hope you do not
+      mind? May I smoke?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lit a cigarette with something of an air. His fingers trembled as he
+      raised the match, but he flattered himself that there was nothing else in
+      his demeanour to indicate that he was violently excited. Bruce Carmyle's
+      ideal was the strong man who can rise superior to his emotions. He was
+      alive to the fact that this was an embarrassing moment, but he was
+      determined not to show that he appreciated it. He cast a sideways glance
+      at Sally, and thought that never, not even in the garden at Monk's Crofton
+      on a certain momentous occasion, had he seen her looking prettier. Her
+      face was flushed and her eyes aflame. The stout wraith of Uncle Donald,
+      which had accompanied Mr. Carmyle on this expedition of his, faded into
+      nothingness as he gazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. Mr. Carmyle, having lighted his cigarette, puffed
+      vigorously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did you land?&rdquo; asked Sally, feeling the need of saying something.
+      Her mind was confused. She could not have said whether she was glad or
+      sorry that he was there. Glad, she thought, on the whole. There was
+      something in his dark, cool, stiff English aspect that gave her a curious
+      feeling of relief. He was so unlike Mr. Cracknell and the man from
+      up-state and so calmly remote from the feverish atmosphere in which she
+      lived her nights that it was restful to look at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I landed to-night,&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle, turning and faced her squarely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We docked at ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away again. He had made his effect, and was content to leave her
+      to think it over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was silent. The significance of his words had not escaped her. She
+      realized that his presence there was a challenge which she must answer.
+      And yet it hardly stirred her. She had been fighting so long, and she felt
+      utterly inert. She was like a swimmer who can battle no longer and
+      prepares to yield to the numbness of exhaustion. The heat of the room
+      pressed down on her like a smothering blanket. Her tired nerves cried out
+      under the blare of music and the clatter of voices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we dance this?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The orchestra had started to play again, a sensuous, creamy melody which
+      was making the most of its brief reign as Broadway's leading song-hit,
+      overfamiliar to her from a hundred repetitions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Efficiency was Bruce Carmyle's gospel. He was one of these men who do not
+      attempt anything which they cannot accomplish to perfection. Dancing, he
+      had decided early in his life, was a part of a gentleman's education, and
+      he had seen to it that he was educated thoroughly. Sally, who, as they
+      swept out on to the floor, had braced herself automatically for a
+      repetition of the usual bumping struggle which dancing at the Flower
+      Garden had come to mean for her, found herself in the arms of a masterful
+      expert, a man who danced better than she did, and suddenly there came to
+      her a feeling that was almost gratitude, a miraculous slackening of her
+      taut nerves, a delicious peace. Soothed and contented, she yielded herself
+      with eyes half closed to the rhythm of the melody, finding it now robbed
+      in some mysterious manner of all its stale cheapness, and in that moment
+      her whole attitude towards Bruce Carmyle underwent a complete change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had never troubled to examine with any minuteness her feelings towards
+      him: but one thing she had known clearly since their first meeting&mdash;that
+      he was physically distasteful to her. For all his good looks, and in his
+      rather sinister way he was a handsome man, she had shrunk from him. Now,
+      spirited away by the magic of the dance, that repugnance had left her. It
+      was as if some barrier had been broken down between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt his arm tighten about her, the muscles quivering. She caught
+      sight of his face. His dark eyes suddenly blazed into hers and she
+      stumbled with an odd feeling of helplessness; realizing with a shock that
+      brought her with a jerk out of the half-dream into which she had been
+      lulled that this dance had not postponed the moment of decision, as she
+      had looked to it to do. In a hot whisper, the words swept away on the
+      flood of the music which had suddenly become raucous and blaring once
+      more, he was repeating what he had said under the trees at Monk's Crofton
+      on that far-off morning in the English springtime. Dizzily she knew that
+      she was resenting the unfairness of the attack at such a moment, but her
+      mind seemed numbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The music stopped abruptly. Insistent clapping started it again, but Sally
+      moved away to her table, and he followed her like a shadow. Neither spoke.
+      Bruce Carmyle had said his say, and Sally was sitting staring before her,
+      trying to think. She was tired, tired. Her eyes were burning. She tried to
+      force herself to face the situation squarely. Was it worth struggling? Was
+      anything in the world worth a struggle? She only knew that she was tired,
+      desperately tired, tired to the very depths of her soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The music stopped. There was more clapping, but this time the orchestra
+      did not respond. Gradually the floor emptied. The shuffling of feet
+      ceased. The Flower Garden was as quiet as it was ever able to be. Even the
+      voices of the babblers seemed strangely hushed. Sally closed her eyes, and
+      as she did so from somewhere up near the roof there came the song of a
+      bird.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Isadore Abrahams was a man of his word. He advertised a Flower Garden, and
+      he had tried to give the public something as closely resembling a
+      flower-garden as it was possible for an overcrowded, overheated, overnoisy
+      Broadway dancing-resort to achieve. Paper roses festooned the walls;
+      genuine tulips bloomed in tubs by every pillar; and from the roof hung
+      cages with birds in them. One of these, stirred by the sudden cessation of
+      the tumult below, had began to sing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had often pitied these birds, and more than once had pleaded in vain
+      with Abrahams for a remission of their sentence, but somehow at this
+      moment it did not occur to her that this one was merely praying in its own
+      language, as she often had prayed in her thoughts, to be taken out of this
+      place. To her, sitting there wrestling with Fate, the song seemed
+      cheerful. It soothed her. It healed her to listen to it. And suddenly
+      before her eyes there rose a vision of Monk's Crofton, cool, green, and
+      peaceful under the mild English sun, luring her as an oasis seen in the
+      distance lures the desert traveller...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She became aware that the master of Monk's Crofton had placed his hand on
+      hers and was holding it in a tightening grip. She looked down and gave a
+      little shiver. She had always disliked Bruce Carmyle's hands. They were
+      strong and bony and black hair grew on the back of them. One of the
+      earliest feelings regarding him had been that she would hate to have those
+      hands touching her. But she did not move. Again that vision of the old
+      garden had flickered across her mind... a haven where she could rest...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear. The room was hotter
+      than it had ever been, noisier than it had ever been, fuller than it had
+      ever been. The bird on the roof was singing again and now she understood
+      what it said. &ldquo;Take me out of this!&rdquo; Did anything matter except that? What
+      did it matter how one was taken, or where, or by whom, so that one was
+      taken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monk's Crofton was looking cool and green and peaceful...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle, in the capacity of accepted suitor, found himself at
+      something of a loss. He had a dissatisfied feeling. It was not the manner
+      of Sally's acceptance that caused this. It would, of course, have pleased
+      him better if she had shown more warmth, but he was prepared to wait for
+      warmth. What did trouble him was the fact that his correct mind perceived
+      now for the first time that he had chosen an unsuitable moment and place
+      for his outburst of emotion. He belonged to the orthodox school of thought
+      which looks on moonlight and solitude as the proper setting for a proposal
+      of marriage; and the surroundings of the Flower Garden, for all its
+      nice-ness and the nice manner in which it was conducted, jarred upon him
+      profoundly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Music had begun again, but it was not the soft music such as a lover
+      demands if he is to give of his best. It was a brassy, clashy rendering of
+      a ribald one-step, enough to choke the eloquence of the most ardent.
+      Couples were dipping and swaying and bumping into one another as far as
+      the eye could reach; while just behind him two waiters had halted in order
+      to thrash out one of those voluble arguments in which waiters love to
+      indulge. To continue the scene at the proper emotional level was
+      impossible, and Bruce Carmyle began his career as an engaged man by
+      dropping into Smalltalk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Deuce of a lot of noise,&rdquo; he said querulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; agreed Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it always like this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Infernal racket!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The romantic side of Mr. Carmyle's nature could have cried aloud at the
+      hideous unworthiness of these banalities. In the visions which he had had
+      of himself as a successful wooer, it had always been in the moments
+      immediately succeeding the all-important question and its whispered reply
+      that he had come out particularly strong. He had been accustomed to
+      picture himself bending with a proud tenderness over his partner in the
+      scene and murmuring some notably good things to her bowed head. How could
+      any man murmur in a pandemonium like this. From tenderness Bruce Carmyle
+      descended with a sharp swoop to irritability.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you often come here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To dance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle chafed helplessly. The scene, which should be so romantic, had
+      suddenly reminded him of the occasion when, at the age of twenty, he had
+      attended his first ball and had sat in a corner behind a potted palm
+      perspiring shyly and endeavouring to make conversation to a formidable
+      nymph in pink. It was one of the few occasions in his life at which he had
+      ever been at a complete disadvantage. He could still remember the clammy
+      discomfort of his too high collar as it melted on him. Most certainly it
+      was not a scene which he enjoyed recalling; and that he should be forced
+      to recall it now, at what ought to have been the supreme moment of his
+      life, annoyed him intensely. Almost angrily he endeavoured to jerk the
+      conversation to a higher level.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Darling,&rdquo; he murmured, for by moving his chair two feet to the right and
+      bending sideways he found that he was in a position to murmur, &ldquo;you have
+      made me so...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Batti, batti! I presto ravioli hollandaise,&rdquo; cried one of the disputing
+      waiters at his back&mdash;or to Bruce Carmyle's prejudiced hearing it
+      sounded like that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La Donna e mobile spaghetti napoli Tettrazina,&rdquo; rejoined the second
+      waiter with spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... you have made me so...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Infanta Isabella lope de Vegas mulligatawny Toronto,&rdquo; said the first
+      waiter, weak but coming back pluckily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;... so happy...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Funiculi funicula Vincente y Blasco Ibanez vermicelli sul campo della
+      gloria risotto!&rdquo; said the second waiter clinchingly, and scored a
+      technical knockout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle gave it up, and lit a moody cigarette. He was oppressed by
+      that feeling which so many of us have felt in our time, that it was all
+      wrong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The music stopped. The two leading citizens of Little Italy vanished and
+      went their way, probably to start a vendetta. There followed comparative
+      calm. But Bruce Carmyle's emotions, like sweet bells jangled, were out of
+      tune, and he could not recapture the first fine careless rapture. He found
+      nothing within him but small-talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has become of your party?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My party?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The people you are with,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle. Even in the stress of his
+      emotion this problem had been exercising him. In his correctly ordered
+      world girls did not go to restaurants alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not with anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came here by yourself?&rdquo; exclaimed Bruce Carmyle, frankly aghast. And,
+      as he spoke, the wraith of Uncle Donald, banished till now, returned as
+      large as ever, puffing disapproval through a walrus moustache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am employed here,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle started violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Employed here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a dancer, you know. I...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally broke off, her attention abruptly diverted to something which had
+      just caught her eye at a table on the other side of the room. That
+      something was a red-headed young man of sturdy build who had just appeared
+      beside the chair in which Mr. Reginald Cracknell was sitting in huddled
+      gloom. In one hand he carried a basket, and from this basket, rising above
+      the din of conversation, there came a sudden sharp yapping. Mr. Cracknell
+      roused himself from his stupor, took the basket, raised the lid. The
+      yapping increased in volume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Cracknell rose, the basket in his arms. With uncertain steps and a
+      look on his face like that of those who lead forlorn hopes he crossed the
+      floor to where Miss Mabel Hobson sat, proud and aloof. The next moment
+      that haughty lady, the centre of an admiring and curious crowd, was
+      hugging to her bosom a protesting Pekingese puppy, and Mr. Cracknell,
+      seizing his opportunity like a good general, had deposited himself in a
+      chair at her side. The course of true love was running smooth again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-headed young man was gazing fixedly at Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a dancer!&rdquo; ejaculated Mr. Carmyle. Of all those within sight of the
+      moving drama which had just taken place, he alone had paid no attention to
+      it. Replete as it was with human interest, sex-appeal, the punch, and all
+      the other qualities which a drama should possess, it had failed to grip
+      him. His thoughts had been elsewhere. The accusing figure of Uncle Donald
+      refused to vanish from his mental eye. The stern voice of Uncle Donald
+      seemed still to ring in his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A dancer! A professional dancer at a Broadway restaurant! Hideous doubts
+      began to creep like snakes into Bruce Carmyle's mind. What, he asked
+      himself, did he really know of this girl on whom he had bestowed the
+      priceless boon of his society for life? How did he know what she was&mdash;he
+      could not find the exact adjective to express his meaning, but he knew
+      what he meant. Was she worthy of the boon? That was what it amounted to.
+      All his life he had had a prim shrinking from the section of the feminine
+      world which is connected with the light-life of large cities. Club
+      acquaintances of his in London had from time to time married into the
+      Gaiety Chorus, and Mr. Carmyle, though he had no objection to the Gaiety
+      Chorus in its proper place&mdash;on the other side of the footlights&mdash;had
+      always looked on these young men after as social outcasts. The fine
+      dashing frenzy which had brought him all the way from South Audley Street
+      to win Sally was ebbing fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, hearing him speak, had turned. And there was a candid honesty in
+      her gaze which for a moment sent all those creeping doubts scuttling away
+      into the darkness whence they had come. He had not made a fool of himself,
+      he protested to the lowering phantom of Uncle Donald. Who, he demanded,
+      could look at Sally and think for an instant that she was not all that was
+      perfect and lovable? A warm revulsion of feeling swept over Bruce Carmyle
+      like a returning tide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, I lost my money and had to do something,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, I see,&rdquo; murmured Mr. Carmyle; and if only Fate had left him alone
+      who knows to what heights of tenderness he might not have soared? But at
+      this moment Fate, being no respecter of persons, sent into his life the
+      disturbing personality of George Washington Williams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Washington Williams was the talented coloured gentleman who had
+      been extracted from small-time vaudeville by Mr. Abrahams to do a nightly
+      speciality at the Flower Garden. He was, in fact, a trap-drummer: and it
+      was his amiable practice, after he had done a few minutes trap-drumming,
+      to rise from his seat and make a circular tour of the tables on the edge
+      of the dancing-floor, whimsically pretending to clip the locks of the male
+      patrons with a pair of drumsticks held scissor-wise. And so it came about
+      that, just as Mr. Carmyle was bending towards Sally in an access of manly
+      sentiment, and was on the very verge of pouring out his soul in a series
+      of well-phrased remarks, he was surprised and annoyed to find an Ethiopian
+      to whom he had never been introduced leaning over him and taking quite
+      unpardonable liberties with his back hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One says that Mr. Carmyle was annoyed. The word is weak. The interruption
+      coming at such a moment jarred every ganglion in his body. The clicking
+      noise of the drumsticks maddened him. And the gleaming whiteness of Mr.
+      Williams' friendly and benignant smile was the last straw. His dignity
+      writhed beneath this abominable infliction. People at other tables were
+      laughing. At him. A loathing for the Flower Garden flowed over Bruce
+      Carmyle, and with it a feeling of suspicion and disapproval of everyone
+      connected with the establishment. He sprang to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I will be going,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not reply. She was watching Ginger, who still stood beside the
+      table recently vacated by Reginald Cracknell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle between his teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, are you going?&rdquo; said Sally with a start. She felt embarrassed. Try as
+      she would, she was unable to find words of any intimacy. She tried to
+      realize that she had promised to marry this man, but never before had he
+      seemed so much a stranger to her, so little a part of her life. It came to
+      her with a sensation of the incredible that she had done this thing, taken
+      this irrevocable step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sudden sight of Ginger had shaken her. It was as though in the last
+      half-hour she had forgotten him and only now realized what marriage with
+      Bruce Carmyle would mean to their comradeship. From now on he was dead to
+      her. If anything in this world was certain that was. Sally Nicholas was
+      Ginger's pal, but Mrs. Carmyle, she realized, would never be allowed to
+      see him again. A devastating feeling of loss smote her like a blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I've had enough of this place,&rdquo; Bruce Carmyle was saying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; said Sally. She hesitated. &ldquo;When shall I see you?&rdquo; she asked
+      awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It occurred to Bruce Carmyle that he was not showing himself at his best.
+      He had, he perceived, allowed his nerves to run away with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mind if I go?&rdquo; he said more amiably. &ldquo;The fact is, I can't
+      stand this place any longer. I'll tell you one thing, I'm going to take
+      you out of here quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid I can't leave at a moment's notice,&rdquo; said Sally, loyal to her
+      obligations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll talk over that to-morrow. I'll call for you in the morning and take
+      you for a drive somewhere in a car. You want some fresh air after this.&rdquo;
+       Mr. Carmyle looked about him in stiff disgust, and expressed his
+      unalterable sentiments concerning the Flower Garden, that apple of Isadore
+      Abrahams' eye, in a snort of loathing. &ldquo;My God! What a place!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked quickly away and disappeared. And Ginger, beaming happily,
+      swooped on Sally's table like a homing pigeon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      4
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord, I say, what ho!&rdquo; cried Ginger. &ldquo;Fancy meeting you here. What a
+      bit of luck!&rdquo; He glanced over his shoulder warily. &ldquo;Has that blighter
+      pipped?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pipped?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Popped,&rdquo; explained Ginger. &ldquo;I mean to say, he isn't coming back or any
+      rot like that, is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Carmyle? No, he has gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sound egg!&rdquo; said Ginger with satisfaction. &ldquo;For a moment, when I saw you
+      yarning away together, I thought he might be with your party. What on
+      earth is he doing over here at all, confound him? He's got all Europe to
+      play about in, why should he come infesting New York? I say, it really is
+      ripping, seeing you again. It seems years... Of course, one get's a
+      certain amount of satisfaction writing letters, but it's not the same.
+      Besides, I write such rotten letters. I say, this really is rather
+      priceless. Can't I get you something? A cup of coffee, I mean, or an egg
+      or something? By jove! this really is top-hole.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His homely, honest face glowed with pleasure, and it seemed to Sally as
+      though she had come out of a winter's night into a warm friendly room. Her
+      mercurial spirits soared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Ginger! If you knew what it's like seeing you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, really? Do you mean, honestly, you're braced?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say I am braced.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, isn't that fine! I was afraid you might have forgotten me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgotten you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With something of the effect of a revelation it suddenly struck Sally how
+      far she had been from forgetting him, how large was the place he had
+      occupied in her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've missed you dreadfully,&rdquo; she said, and felt the words inadequate as
+      she uttered them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ho!&rdquo; said Ginger, also internally condemning the poverty of speech
+      as a vehicle for conveying thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a brief silence. The first exhilaration of the reunion over,
+      Sally deep down in her heart was aware of a troubled feeling as though the
+      world were out of joint. She forced herself to ignore it, but it would not
+      be ignored. It grew. Dimly she was beginning to realize what Ginger meant
+      to her, and she fought to keep herself from realizing it. Strange things
+      were happening to her to-night, strange emotions stirring her. Ginger
+      seemed somehow different, as if she were really seeing him for the first
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're looking wonderfully well,&rdquo; she said trying to keep the
+      conversation on a pedestrian level.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am well,&rdquo; said Ginger. &ldquo;Never felt fitter in my life. Been out in the
+      open all day long... simple life and all that... working like blazes. I
+      say, business is booming. Did you see me just now, handing over Percy the
+      Pup to what's-his-name? Five hundred dollars on that one deal. Got the
+      cheque in my pocket. But what an extraordinarily rummy thing that I should
+      have come to this place to deliver the goods just when you happened to be
+      here. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. I say, I hope the people you're
+      with won't think I'm butting in. You'll have to explain that we're old
+      pals and that you started me in business and all that sort of thing. Look
+      here,&rdquo; he said lowering his voice, &ldquo;I know how you hate being thanked, but
+      I simply must say how terrifically decent...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Nicholas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lee Schoenstein was standing at the table, and by his side an expectant
+      youth with a small moustache and pince-nez. Sally got up, and the next
+      moment Ginger was alone, gaping perplexedly after her as she vanished and
+      reappeared in the jogging throng on the dancing floor. It was the nearest
+      thing Ginger had seen to a conjuring trick, and at that moment he was
+      ill-attuned to conjuring tricks. He brooded, fuming, at what seemed to him
+      the supremest exhibition of pure cheek, of monumental nerve, and of
+      undiluted crust that had ever come within his notice. To come and charge
+      into a private conversation like that and whisk her away without a word...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was that blighter?&rdquo; he demanded with heat, when the music ceased and
+      Sally limped back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was Mr. Schoenstein.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who was the other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The one I danced with? I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally perceived that the conversation had arrived at an embarrassing
+      point. There was nothing for it but candour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you remember my telling you when we first met that I
+      used to dance in a Broadway place? This is the place. I'm working again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Complete unintelligence showed itself on Ginger's every feature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand,&rdquo; he said&mdash;unnecessarily, for his face revealed
+      the fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got my old job back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I had to do something.&rdquo; She went on rapidly. Already a light dimly
+      resembling the light of understanding was beginning to appear in Ginger's
+      eyes. &ldquo;Fillmore went smash, you know&mdash;it wasn't his fault, poor dear.
+      He had the worst kind of luck&mdash;and most of my money was tied up in
+      his business, so you see...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She broke off confused by the look in his eyes, conscious of an absurd
+      feeling of guilt. There was amazement in that look and a sort of
+      incredulous horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say...&rdquo; Ginger gulped and started again. &ldquo;Do you mean to
+      tell me that you let me have... all that money... for the dog-business...
+      when you were broke? Do you mean to say...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stole a glance at his crimson face and looked away again quickly.
+      There was an electric silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; exploded Ginger with sudden violence, &ldquo;you've got to marry
+      me. You've jolly well got to marry me! I don't mean that,&rdquo; he added
+      quickly. &ldquo;I mean to say I know you're going to marry whoever you please...
+      but won't you marry me? Sally, for God's sake have a dash at it! I've been
+      keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather rotten to bother you
+      about it, but now....Oh, dammit, I wish I could put it into words. I
+      always was rotten at talking. But... well, look here, what I mean is, I
+      know I'm not much of a chap, but it seems to me you must care for me a bit
+      to do a thing like that for a fellow... and... I've loved you like the
+      dickens ever since I met you... I do wish you'd have a stab at it, Sally.
+      At least I could look after you, you know, and all that... I mean to say,
+      work like the deuce and try to give you a good time... I'm not such an ass
+      as to think a girl like you could ever really... er... love a blighter
+      like me, but...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally laid her hand on his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I do love you. I ought to have known it all
+      along, but I seem to be understanding myself to-night for the first time.&rdquo;
+       She got up and bent over him for a swift moment, whispering in his ear, &ldquo;I
+      shall never love anyone but you, Ginger. Will you try to remember that.&rdquo;
+       She was moving away, but he caught at her arm and stopped her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pulled her arm away, her face working as she fought against the tears
+      that would not keep back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've made a fool of myself,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Ginger, your cousin... Mr.
+      Carmyle... just now he asked me to marry him, and I said I would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was gone, flitting among the tables like some wild creature running to
+      its home: and Ginger, motionless, watched her go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      5
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The telephone-bell in Sally's little sitting-room was ringing jerkily as
+      she let herself in at the front door. She guessed who it was at the other
+      end of the wire, and the noise of the bell sounded to her like the voice
+      of a friend in distress crying for help. Without stopping to close the
+      door, she ran to the table and unhooked the receiver. Muffled, plaintive
+      sounds were coming over the wire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo... Hullo... I say... Hullo...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo, Ginger,&rdquo; said Sally quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An ejaculation that was half a shout and half gurgle answered her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally! Is that you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, here I am, Ginger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been trying to get you for ages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've only just come in. I walked home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I mean...&rdquo; Ginger seemed to be finding his usual difficulty in
+      expressing himself. &ldquo;About that, you know. What you said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said...&rdquo; Again Ginger's vocabulary failed him. &ldquo;You said you loved
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sally simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of silence
+      before Ginger found himself able to resume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I... I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet. I mean, it's no good
+      trying to say what I think over the 'phone, I'm sort of knocked out. I
+      never dreamed... But, I say, what did you mean about Bruce?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you, I told you.&rdquo; Sally's face was twisted and the receiver shook
+      in her hand. &ldquo;I've made a fool of myself. I never realized... And now it's
+      too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; Ginger's voice rose in a sharp wail. &ldquo;You can't mean you
+      really... You don't seriously intend to marry the man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must. I've promised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, good heavens...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no good. I must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the man's a blighter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't break my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard such rot,&rdquo; said Ginger vehemently. &ldquo;Of course you can. A
+      girl isn't expected...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't, Ginger dear, I really can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But look here...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's really no good talking about it any more, really it isn't... Where
+      are you staying to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Staying? Me? At the Plaza. But look here...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally found herself laughing weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the Plaza! Oh, Ginger, you really do want somebody to look after you.
+      Squandering your pennies like that... Well, don't talk any more now. It's
+      so late and I'm so tired. I'll come and see you to-morrow. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hung up the receiver quickly, to cut short a fresh outburst of
+      protest. And as she turned away a voice spoke behind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald Foster was standing in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII. SALLY LAYS A GHOST
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      1
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood flowed slowly back into Sally's face, and her heart, which had
+      leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice, resumed its normal
+      beat. The suddenness of the shock over, she was surprised to find herself
+      perfectly calm. Always when she had imagined this meeting, knowing that it
+      would have to take place sooner or later, she had felt something akin to
+      panic: but now that it had actually occurred it hardly seemed to stir her.
+      The events of the night had left her incapable of any violent emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo, Sally!&rdquo; said Gerald.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he stood
+      swaying with one hand on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves,
+      collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily. His face
+      was white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a sodden
+      disreputableness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally did not speak. Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, she
+      seemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tired
+      nerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness. She
+      looked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if he had
+      been a stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; said Gerald again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald's face vanished. A tear
+      rolled down his cheek. His intoxication had reached the maudlin stage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally... S-Sally... I'm very miserable.&rdquo; He slurred awkwardly over the
+      difficult syllables. &ldquo;Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd
+      come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something flicked at the back of Sally's mind. She seemed to have been
+      through all this before. Then she remembered. This was simply Mr. Reginald
+      Cracknell over again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you had better go to bed, Gerald,&rdquo; she said steadily. Nothing
+      about him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him nor his
+      shameless misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the use? Can't sleep. No good. Couldn't sleep. Sally, you don't
+      know how worried I am. I see what a fool I've been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about to
+      develop into a belated expression of regret for his treatment of herself.
+      She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizing with tears
+      for having done his best to wreck her life. But it seemed that it was not
+      this that was weighing upon his soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was a fool ever to try writing plays,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;Got a winner first
+      time, but can't repeat. It's no good. Ought to have stuck to newspaper
+      work. I'm good at that. Shall have to go back to it. Had another frost
+      to-night. No good trying any more. Shall have to go back to the old grind,
+      damn it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very miserable,&rdquo; he murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came forward a step into the room, lurched, and retreated to the safe
+      support of the door. For an instant Sally's artificial calm was shot
+      through by a swift stab of contempt. It passed, and she was back again in
+      her armour of indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to bed, Gerald,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You'll feel better in the morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps some inkling of how he was going to feel in the morning worked
+      through to Gerald's muddled intelligence, for he winced, and his manner
+      took on a deeper melancholy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May not be alive in the morning,&rdquo; he said solemnly. &ldquo;Good mind to end it
+      all. End it all!&rdquo; he repeated with the beginning of a sweeping gesture
+      which was cut off abruptly as he clutched at the friendly door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was not in the mood for melodrama.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, go to bed,&rdquo; she said impatiently. The strange frozen indifference
+      which had gripped her was beginning to pass, leaving in its place a
+      growing feeling of resentment&mdash;resentment against Gerald for
+      degrading himself like this, against herself for ever having found glamour
+      in the man. It humiliated her to remember how utterly she had once allowed
+      his personality to master hers. And under the sting of this humiliation
+      she felt hard and pitiless. Dimly she was aware that a curious change had
+      come over her to-night. Normally, the sight of any living thing in
+      distress was enough to stir her quick sympathy: but Gerald mourning over
+      the prospect of having to go back to regular work made no appeal to her&mdash;a
+      fact which the sufferer noted and commented upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're very unsymp... unsympathetic,&rdquo; he complained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry,&rdquo; said Sally. She walked briskly to the door and gave it a
+      push. Gerald, still clinging to his chosen support, moved out into the
+      passage, attached to the handle, with the air of a man the foundations of
+      whose world have suddenly lost their stability. He released the handle and
+      moved uncertainly across the passage. Finding his own door open before
+      him, he staggered over the threshold; and Sally, having watched him safely
+      to his journey's end, went into her bedroom with the intention of
+      terminating this disturbing night by going to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Almost immediately she changed her mind. Sleep was out of the question. A
+      fever of restlessness had come upon her. She put on a kimono, and went
+      into the kitchen to ascertain whether her commissariat arrangements would
+      permit of a glass of hot milk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had just remembered that she had that morning presented the last of
+      the milk to a sandy cat with a purposeful eye which had dropped in through
+      the window to take breakfast with her, when her regrets for this
+      thriftless hospitality were interrupted by a muffled crash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened intently. The sound had seemed to come from across the
+      passage. She hurried to the door and opened it. As she did so, from behind
+      the door of the apartment opposite there came a perfect fusillade of
+      crashes, each seeming to her strained hearing louder and more appalling
+      than the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something about sudden, loud noises in the stillness of the night
+      which shatters the most rigid detachment. A short while before, Gerald,
+      toying with the idea of ending his sorrows by violence, had left Sally
+      unmoved: but now her mind leapt back to what he had said, and apprehension
+      succeeded indifference. There was no disputing the fact that Gerald was in
+      an irresponsible mood, under the influence of which he was capable of
+      doing almost anything. Sally, listening in the doorway, felt a momentary
+      panic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A brief silence had succeeded the fusillade, but, as she stood there
+      hesitating, the noise broke out again; and this time it was so loud and
+      compelling that Sally hesitated no longer. She ran across the passage and
+      beat on the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      2
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever devastating happenings had been going on in his home, it was
+      plain a moment later that Gerald had managed to survive them: for there
+      came the sound of a dragging footstep, and the door opened. Gerald stood
+      on the threshold, the weak smile back on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo, Sally!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sight of him, disreputable and obviously unscathed, Sally's brief
+      alarm died away, leaving in its place the old feeling of impatient
+      resentment. In addition to her other grievances against him, he had
+      apparently frightened her unnecessarily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever was all that noise?&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noise?&rdquo; said Gerald, considering the point open-mouthed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, noise,&rdquo; snapped Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been cleaning house,&rdquo; said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of a man
+      just conscious that he is not wholly himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally pushed her way past him. The apartment in which she found herself
+      was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa
+      Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly
+      feminine way. Amateur interior decoration had always been a hobby of hers.
+      Even in the unpromising surroundings of her bedroom at Mrs. Meecher's
+      boarding-house she had contrived to create a certain daintiness which
+      Sally, who had no ability in that direction herself, had always rather
+      envied. As a decorator Elsa's mind ran in the direction of small, fragile
+      ornaments, and she was not afraid of over-furnishing. Pictures jostled one
+      another on the walls: china of all description stood about on little
+      tables: there was a profusion of lamps with shades of parti-coloured
+      glass: and plates were ranged along a series of shelves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One says that the plates were ranged and the pictures jostled one another,
+      but it would be more correct to put it they had jostled and had been
+      ranged, for it was only by guess-work that Sally was able to reconstruct
+      the scene as it must have appeared before Gerald had started, as he put
+      it, to clean house. She had walked into the flat briskly enough, but she
+      pulled up short as she crossed the threshold, appalled by the majestic
+      ruin that met her gaze. A shell bursting in the little sitting-room could
+      hardly have created more havoc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The psychology of a man of weak character under the influence of alcohol
+      and disappointed ambition is not easy to plumb, for his moods follow one
+      another with a rapidity which baffles the observer. Ten minutes before,
+      Gerald Foster had been in the grip of a clammy self-pity, and it seemed
+      from his aspect at the present moment that this phase had returned. But in
+      the interval there had manifestly occurred a brief but adequate spasm of
+      what would appear to have been an almost Berserk fury. What had caused it
+      and why it should have expended itself so abruptly, Sally was not
+      psychologist enough to explain; but that it had existed there was ocular
+      evidence of the most convincing kind. A heavy niblick, flung petulantly&mdash;or
+      remorsefully&mdash;into a corner, showed by what medium the destruction
+      had been accomplished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bleak chaos appeared on every side. The floor was littered with every
+      imaginable shape and size of broken glass and china. Fragments of
+      pictures, looking as if they had been chewed by some prehistoric animal,
+      lay amid heaps of shattered statuettes and vases. As Sally moved slowly
+      into the room after her involuntary pause, china crackled beneath her
+      feet. She surveyed the stripped walls with a wondering eye, and turned to
+      Gerald for an explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald had subsided on to an occasional table, and was weeping softly
+      again. It had come over him once more that he had been very, very badly
+      treated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; said Sally with a gasp. &ldquo;You've certainly made a good job of it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a sharp crack as the occasional table, never designed by its
+      maker to bear heavy weights, gave way in a splintering flurry of broken
+      legs under the pressure of the master of the house: and Sally's mood
+      underwent an abrupt change. There are few situations in life which do not
+      hold equal potentialities for both tragedy and farce, and it was the
+      ludicrous side of this drama that chanced to appeal to Sally at this
+      moment. Her sense of humour was tickled. It was, if she could have
+      analysed her feelings, at herself that she was mocking&mdash;at the feeble
+      sentimental Sally who had once conceived the absurd idea of taking this
+      preposterous man seriously. She felt light-hearted and light-headed, and
+      she sank into a chair with a gurgling laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shock of his fall appeared to have had the desirable effect of
+      restoring Gerald to something approaching intelligence. He picked himself
+      up from the remains of a set of water-colours, gazing at Sally with
+      growing disapproval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No sympathy,&rdquo; he said austerely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help it,&rdquo; cried Sally. &ldquo;It's too funny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not funny,&rdquo; corrected Gerald, his brain beginning to cloud once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you do it for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald returned for a moment to that mood of honest indignation, which had
+      so strengthened his arm when wielding the niblick. He bethought him once
+      again of his grievance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wasn't going to stand for it any longer,&rdquo; he said heatedly. &ldquo;A fellow's
+      wife goes and lets him down... ruins his show by going off and playing in
+      another show... why shouldn't I smash her things? Why should I stand for
+      that sort of treatment? Why should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you haven't,&rdquo; said Sally, &ldquo;so there's no need to discuss it. You
+      seem to have acted in a thoroughly manly and independent way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it. Manly independent.&rdquo; He waggled his finger impressively. &ldquo;Don't
+      care what she says,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;Don't care if she never comes back.
+      That woman...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was not prepared to embark with him upon a discussion of the absent
+      Elsa. Already the amusing aspect of the affair had begun to fade, and her
+      hilarity was giving way to a tired distaste for the sordidness of the
+      whole business. She had become aware that she could not endure the society
+      of Gerald Foster much longer. She got up and spoke decidedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I'm going to tidy up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald had other views.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said with sudden solemnity. &ldquo;No! Nothing of the kind. Leave it
+      for her to find. Leave it as it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be silly. All this has got to be cleaned up. I'll do it. You go and
+      sit in my apartment. I'll come and tell you when you can come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Gerald, wagging his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stamped her foot among the crackling ruins. Quite suddenly the sight
+      of him had become intolerable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do as I tell you,&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald wavered for a moment, but his brief militant mood was ebbing fast.
+      After a faint protest he shuffled off, and Sally heard him go into her
+      room. She breathed a deep breath of relief and turned to her task.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A visit to the kitchen revealed a long-handled broom, and, armed with
+      this, Sally was soon busy. She was an efficient little person, and
+      presently out of chaos there began to emerge a certain order. Nothing
+      short of complete re-decoration would ever make the place look habitable
+      again, but at the end of half an hour she had cleared the floor, and the
+      fragments of vases, plates, lamp-shades, pictures and glasses were stacked
+      in tiny heaps against the walls. She returned the broom to the kitchen,
+      and, going back into the sitting-room, flung open the window and stood
+      looking out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a sense of unreality she perceived that the night had gone. Over the
+      quiet street below there brooded that strange, metallic light which ushers
+      in the dawn of a fine day. A cold breeze whispered to and fro. Above the
+      house-tops the sky was a faint, level blue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She left the window and started to cross the room. And suddenly there came
+      over her a feeling of utter weakness. She stumbled to a chair, conscious
+      only of being tired beyond the possibility of a further effort. Her eyes
+      closed, and almost before her head had touched the cushions she was
+      asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      3
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally woke. Sunshine was streaming through the open window, and with it
+      the myriad noises of a city awake and about its business. Footsteps
+      clattered on the sidewalk, automobile horns were sounding, and she could
+      hear the clank of street cars as they passed over the points. She could
+      only guess at the hour, but it was evident that the morning was well
+      advanced. She got up stiffly. Her head was aching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the bathroom, bathed her face, and felt better. The dull
+      oppression which comes of a bad night was leaving her. She leaned out of
+      the window, revelling in the fresh air, then crossed the passage and
+      entered her own apartment. Stertorous breathing greeted her, and she
+      perceived that Gerald Foster had also passed the night in a chair. He was
+      sprawling by the window with his legs stretched out and his head resting
+      on one of the arms, an unlovely spectacle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally stood regarding him for a moment with a return of the distaste which
+      she had felt on the previous night. And yet, mingled with the distaste,
+      there was a certain elation. A black chapter of her life was closed for
+      ever. Whatever the years to come might bring to her, they would be free
+      from any wistful yearnings for the man who had once been woven so
+      inextricably into the fabric of her life. She had thought that his
+      personality had gripped her too strongly ever to be dislodged, but now she
+      could look at him calmly and feel only a faint half-pity, half-contempt.
+      The glamour had departed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook him gently, and he sat up with a start, blinking in the strong
+      light. His mouth was still open. He stared at Sally foolishly, then
+      scrambled awkwardly out of the chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my God!&rdquo; said Gerald, pressing both his hands to his forehead and
+      sitting down again. He licked his lips with a dry tongue and moaned. &ldquo;Oh,
+      I've got a headache!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally might have pointed out to him that he had certainly earned one, but
+      she refrained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better go and have a wash,&rdquo; she suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Gerald, heaving himself up again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like some breakfast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo; said Gerald faintly, and tottered off to the bathroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally sat down in the chair he had vacated. She had never felt quite like
+      this before in her life. Everything seemed dreamlike. The splashing of
+      water in the bathroom came faintly to her, and she realized that she had
+      been on the point of falling asleep again. She got up and opened the
+      window, and once more the air acted as a restorative. She watched the
+      activities of the street with a distant interest. They, too, seemed
+      dreamlike and unreal. People were hurrying up and down on mysterious
+      errands. An inscrutable cat picked its way daintily across the road. At
+      the door of the apartment house an open car purred sleepily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was roused by a ring at the bell. She went to the door and opened it,
+      and found Bruce Carmyle standing on the threshold. He wore a light
+      motor-coat, and he was plainly endeavouring to soften the severity of his
+      saturnine face with a smile of beaming kindliness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, here I am!&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle cheerily. &ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With the coming of daylight a certain penitence had descended on Mr.
+      Carmyle. Thinking things over while shaving and subsequently in his bath,
+      he had come to the conclusion that his behaviour overnight had not been
+      all that could have been desired. He had not actually been brutal,
+      perhaps, but he had undoubtedly not been winning. There had been an
+      abruptness in the manner of his leaving Sally at the Flower Garden which a
+      perfect lover ought not to have shown. He had allowed his nerves to get
+      the better of him, and now he desired to make amends. Hence a cheerfulness
+      which he did not usually exhibit so early in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was staring at him blankly. She had completely forgotten that he had
+      said that he would come and take her for a drive this morning. She
+      searched in her mind for words, and found none. And, as Mr. Carmyle was
+      debating within himself whether to kiss her now or wait for a more
+      suitable moment, embarrassment came upon them both like a fog, and the
+      genial smile faded from his face as if the motive-power behind it had
+      suddenly failed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've&mdash;er&mdash;got the car outside, and...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this point speech failed Mr. Carmyle, for, even as he began the
+      sentence, the door that led to the bathroom opened and Gerald Foster came
+      out. Mr. Carmyle gaped at Gerald: Gerald gaped at Mr. Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The application of cold water to the face and head is an excellent thing
+      on the morning after an imprudent night, but as a tonic it only goes part
+      of the way. In the case of Gerald Foster, which was an extremely serious
+      and aggravated case, it had gone hardly any way at all. The person unknown
+      who had been driving red-hot rivets into the base of Gerald Foster's skull
+      ever since the moment of his awakening was still busily engaged on that
+      task. He gazed at Mr. Carmyle wanly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bruce Carmyle drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, and stood rigid. His
+      eyes, burning now with a grim light, flickered over Gerald's person and
+      found nothing in it to entertain them. He saw a slouching figure in
+      shirt-sleeves and the foundations of evening dress, a disgusting, degraded
+      figure with pink eyes and a white face that needed a shave. And all the
+      doubts that had ever come to vex Mr. Carmyle's mind since his first
+      meeting with Sally became on the instant certainties. So Uncle Donald had
+      been right after all! This was the sort of girl she was!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At his elbow the stout phantom of Uncle Donald puffed with satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you so!&rdquo; it said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally had not moved. The situation was beyond her. Just as if this had
+      really been the dream it seemed, she felt incapable of speech or action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So...&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle, becoming articulate, and allowed an impressive
+      aposiopesis to take the place of the rest of the speech. A cold fury had
+      gripped him. He pointed at Gerald, began to speak, found that he was
+      stuttering, and gulped back the words. In this supreme moment he was not
+      going to have his dignity impaired by a stutter. He gulped and found a
+      sentence which, while brief enough to insure against this disaster, was
+      sufficiently long to express his meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get out!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gerald Foster had his dignity, too, and it seemed to him that the time had
+      come to assert it. But he also had a most excruciating headache, and when
+      he drew himself up haughtily to ask Mr. Carmyle what the devil he meant by
+      it, a severe access of pain sent him huddling back immediately to a safer
+      attitude. He clasped his forehead and groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment Gerald hesitated. Then another sudden shooting spasm
+      convinced him that no profit or pleasure was to be derived from a
+      continuance of the argument, and he began to shamble slowly across to the
+      door. Bruce Carmyle watched him go with twitching hands. There was a
+      moment when the human man in him, somewhat atrophied from long disuse,
+      stirred him almost to the point of assault; then dignity whispered more
+      prudent counsel in his ear, and Gerald was past the danger-zone and out in
+      the passage. Mr. Carmyle turned to face Sally, as King Arthur on a similar
+      but less impressive occasion must have turned to deal with Guinevere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So...&rdquo; he said again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally was eyeing him steadily&mdash;considering the circumstances, Mr.
+      Carmyle thought with not a little indignation, much too steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said ponderously, &ldquo;is very amusing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might have expected it,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle with a bitter laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally forced herself from the lethargy which was gripping her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like me to explain?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be no explanation,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmyle coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; said Bruce Carmyle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Carmyle walked to the door. There he stopped for an instant and
+      glanced back at her. Sally had walked to the window and was looking out.
+      For one swift instant something about her trim little figure and the gleam
+      of her hair where the sunlight shone on it seemed to catch at Bruce
+      Carmyle's heart, and he wavered. But the next moment he was strong again,
+      and the door had closed behind him with a resolute bang.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Out in the street, climbing into his car, he looked up involuntarily to
+      see if she was still there, but she had gone. As the car, gathering speed,
+      hummed down the street. Sally was at the telephone listening to the sleepy
+      voice of Ginger Kemp, which, as he became aware who it was that had woken
+      him from his rest and what she had to say to him, magically lost its
+      sleepiness and took on a note of riotous ecstasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes later, Ginger was splashing in his bath, singing
+      discordantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII. JOURNEY'S END
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Darkness was beginning to gather slowly and with almost an apologetic air,
+      as if it regretted the painful duty of putting an end to the perfect
+      summer day. Over to the west beyond the trees there still lingered a faint
+      afterglow, and a new moon shone like a silver sickle above the big barn.
+      Sally came out of the house and bowed gravely three times for luck. She
+      stood on the gravel, outside the porch, drinking in the sweet evening
+      scents, and found life good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The darkness, having shown a certain reluctance at the start, was now
+      buckling down to make a quick and thorough job of it. The sky turned to a
+      uniform dark blue, picked out with quiet stars. The cement of the state
+      road which led to Patchogue, Babylon, and other important centres ceased
+      to be a pale blur and became invisible. Lights appeared in the windows of
+      the houses across the meadows. From the direction of the kennels there
+      came a single sleepy bark, and the small white woolly dog which had
+      scampered out at Sally's heels stopped short and uttered a challenging
+      squeak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening was so still that Ginger's footsteps, as he pounded along the
+      road on his way back from the village, whither he had gone to buy
+      provisions, evening papers, and wool for the sweater which Sally was
+      knitting, were audible long before he turned in at the gate. Sally could
+      not see him, but she looked in the direction of the sound and once again
+      felt that pleasant, cosy thrill of happiness which had come to her every
+      evening for the last year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger,&rdquo; she called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woolly dog, with another important squeak, scuttled down the drive to
+      look into the matter, and was coldly greeted. Ginger, for all his love of
+      dogs, had never been able to bring himself to regard Toto with affection.
+      He had protested when Sally, a month before, finding Mrs. Meecher
+      distraught on account of a dreadful lethargy which had seized her pet, had
+      begged him to offer hospitality and country air to the invalid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's wonderful what you've done for Toto, angel,&rdquo; said Sally, as he came
+      up frigidly eluding that curious animal's leaps of welcome. &ldquo;He's a
+      different dog.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bit of luck for him,&rdquo; said Ginger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher's I never knew him move at
+      anything more rapid than a stately walk. Now he runs about all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The blighter had been overeating from birth,&rdquo; said Ginger. &ldquo;That was all
+      that was wrong with him. A little judicious dieting put him right. We'll
+      be able,&rdquo; said Ginger brightening, &ldquo;to ship him back next week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall quite miss him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I nearly missed him&mdash;this morning&mdash;with a shoe,&rdquo; said Ginger.
+      &ldquo;He was up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and I took steps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My cave-man!&rdquo; murmured Sally. &ldquo;I always said you had a frightfully brutal
+      streak in you. Ginger, what an evening!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of the
+      open kitchen door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and eyed her intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know you're looking prettier than you were when I started down to
+      the village!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gave his arm a little hug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beloved!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Did you get the chops?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ginger froze in his tracks, horrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my aunt! I clean forgot them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Ginger, you are an old chump. Well, you'll have to go in for a little
+      judicious dieting, like Toto.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, I'm most awfully sorry. I got the wool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you think I'm going to eat wool...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't there anything in the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vegetables and fruit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine! But, of course, if you want chops...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. I'm spiritual. Besides, people say that vegetables are good
+      for the blood-pressure or something. Of course you forgot to get the mail,
+      too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely not! I was on to it like a knife. Two letters from fellows
+      wanting Airedale puppies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! Ginger, we are getting on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty bloated,&rdquo; agreed Ginger complacently. &ldquo;Pretty bloated. We'll be
+      able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on like this. There was a
+      letter for you. Here it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's from Fillmore,&rdquo; said Sally, examining the envelope as they went into
+      the kitchen. &ldquo;And about time, too. I haven't had a word from him for
+      months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down and opened the letter. Ginger, heaving himself on to the
+      table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his evening
+      paper. But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he lowered it and
+      allowed his gaze to rest on Sally's bent head with a feeling of utter
+      contentment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although a married man of nearly a year's standing, Ginger was still
+      moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable fully
+      to realize that such bliss could be. Ginger in his time had seen many
+      things that looked good from a distance, but not one that had borne the
+      test of a closer acquaintance&mdash;except this business of marriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Marriage, with Sally for a partner, seemed to be one of the very few
+      things in the world in which there was no catch. His honest eyes glowed as
+      he watched her. Sally broke into a little splutter of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ginger, look at this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He reached down and took the slip of paper which she held out to him. The
+      following legend met his eye, printed in bold letters:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                                 POPP'S
+
+                              OUTSTANDING
+
+                 SUCCULENT&mdash;&mdash;APPETIZING&mdash;&mdash;NUTRITIOUS.
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                        (JUST SAY &ldquo;POP!&rdquo; A CHILD
+
+                              CAN DO IT.)
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Ginger regarded this cipher with a puzzled frown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Fillmore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally gurgled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fillmore and Gladys have started a little restaurant in Pittsburg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A restaurant!&rdquo; There was a shocked note in Ginger's voice. Although he
+      knew that the managerial career of that modern Napoleon, his
+      brother-in-law, had terminated in something of a smash, he had never quite
+      lost his reverence for one whom he considered a bit of a master-mind. That
+      Fillmore Nicholas, the Man of Destiny, should have descended to conducting
+      a restaurant&mdash;and a little restaurant at that&mdash;struck him as
+      almost indecent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally, on the other hand&mdash;for sisters always seem to fail in proper
+      reverence for the greatness of their brothers&mdash;was delighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the most splendid idea,&rdquo; she said with enthusiasm. &ldquo;It really does
+      look as if Fillmore was going to amount to something at last. Apparently
+      they started on quite a small scale, just making pork-pies...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why Popp?&rdquo; interrupted Ginger, ventilating a question which was
+      perplexing him deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a trade name, silly. Gladys is a wonderful cook, you know, and she
+      made the pies and Fillmore toddled round selling them. And they did so
+      well that now they've started a regular restaurant, and that's a success,
+      too. Listen to this.&rdquo; Sally gurgled again and turned over the letter.
+      &ldquo;Where is it? Oh yes! '... sound financial footing. In fact, our success
+      has been so instantaneous that I have decided to launch out on a really
+      big scale. It is Big Ideas that lead to Big Business. I am contemplating a
+      vast extension of this venture of ours, and in a very short time I shall
+      organize branches in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and all the big cities,
+      each in charge of a manager and each offering as a special feature, in
+      addition to the usual restaurant cuisine, these Popp's Outstanding
+      Pork-pies of ours. That done, and having established all these branches as
+      going concerns, I shall sail for England and introduce Popp's Pork-pies
+      there...' Isn't he a little wonder!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dashed brainy chap. Always said so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must say I was rather uneasy when I read that. I've seen so many of
+      Fillmore's Big Ideas. That's always the way with him. He gets something
+      good and then goes and overdoes it and bursts. However, it's all right now
+      that he's got Gladys to look after him. She has added a postscript. Just
+      four words, but oh! how comforting to a sister's heart. 'Yes, I don't
+      think!' is what she says, and I don't know when I've read anything more
+      cheering. Thank heaven, she's got poor dear Fillmore well in hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pork-pies!&rdquo; said Ginger, musingly, as the pangs of a healthy hunger began
+      to assail his interior. &ldquo;I wish he'd sent us one of the outstanding little
+      chaps. I could do with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally got up and ruffled his red hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor old Ginger! I knew you'd never be able to stick it. Come on, it's a
+      lovely night, let's walk to the village and revel at the inn. We're going
+      to be millionaires before we know where we are, so we can afford it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      THE END <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
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+</pre>
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+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Adventures of Sally
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7464]
+[This file last updated on July 17, 2010]
+Posting Date: July 31, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Tim Barnett
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY
+
+
+By P. G. Wodehouse
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. SALLY GIVES A PARTY
+
+
+
+1
+
+Sally looked contentedly down the long table. She felt happy at last.
+Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after an
+uncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would be. The
+first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only too
+well aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had
+worn off; and the male and female patrons of Mrs. Meecher's select
+boarding-house (transient and residential) were themselves again.
+
+At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the
+great vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it.
+The next best thing to having money of one's own, is to dictate the
+spending of somebody else's, and Sally's guests were finding a good deal
+of satisfaction in arranging a Budget for her. Rumour having put the
+sum at their disposal at a high figure, their suggestions had certain
+spaciousness.
+
+"Let me tell you," said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, "what I'd do, if
+I were you." Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an intensely subordinate
+position in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown, the Wall Street brokers,
+always affected a brisk, incisive style of speech, as befitted a man
+in close touch with the great ones of Finance. "I'd sink a couple of
+hundred thousand in some good, safe bond-issue--we've just put one out
+which you would do well to consider--and play about with the rest. When
+I say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.
+Multiple Steel's worth looking at. They tell me it'll be up to a hundred
+and fifty before next Saturday."
+
+Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's
+left, had other views.
+
+"Buy a theatre. Sally, and put on good stuff."
+
+"And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deep
+voice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the
+mild young man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the
+heavyweight championship. I've private information that Battling Tuke
+has been got at and means to lie down in the seventh..."
+
+"Say, listen," interrupted another voice, "lemme tell you what I'd do
+with four hundred thousand..."
+
+"If I had four hundred thousand," said Elsa Doland, "I know what would
+be the first thing I'd do."
+
+"What's that?" asked Sally.
+
+"Pay my bill for last week, due this morning."
+
+Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her
+friend's shoulder and whispered in her ear:
+
+"Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll..."
+
+Elsa Doland laughed.
+
+"You're an angel, Sally. There's no one like you. You'd give your last
+cent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from the
+road, and I've saved a fortune. I only said that to draw you."
+
+Sally returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had now
+divided itself into two schools of thought. The conservative and prudent
+element, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on three
+hundred thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe real estate;
+while the smaller, more sporting section, impressed by the mild young
+man's inside information, had already placed Sally's money on Benny
+Whistler, doling it out cautiously in small sums so as not to spoil the
+market. And so solid, it seemed, was Mr. Tuke's reputation with those
+in the inner circle of knowledge that the mild young man was confident
+that, if you went about the matter cannily and without precipitation,
+three to one might be obtained. It seemed to Sally that the time had
+come to correct certain misapprehensions.
+
+"I don't know where you get your figures," she said, "but I'm afraid
+they're wrong. I've just twenty-five thousand dollars."
+
+The statement had a chilling effect. To these jugglers with
+half-millions the amount mentioned seemed for the moment almost too
+small to bother about. It was the sort of sum which they had been
+mentally setting aside for the heiress's car fare. Then they managed to
+adjust their minds to it. After all, one could do something even with a
+pittance like twenty-five thousand.
+
+"If I'd twenty-five thousand," said Augustus Bartlett, the first to
+rally from the shock, "I'd buy Amalgamated..."
+
+"If I had twenty-five thousand..." began Elsa Doland.
+
+"If I'd had twenty-five thousand in the year nineteen hundred," observed
+a gloomy-looking man with spectacles, "I could have started a revolution
+in Paraguay."
+
+He brooded sombrely on what might have been.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do," said Sally. "I'm
+going to start with a trip to Europe... France, specially. I've heard
+France well spoken of--as soon as I can get my passport; and after I've
+loafed there for a few weeks, I'm coming back to look about and find
+some nice cosy little business which will let me put money into it and
+keep me in luxury. Are there any complaints?"
+
+"Even a couple of thousand on Benny Whistler..." said the mild young
+man.
+
+"I don't want your Benny Whistler," said Sally. "I wouldn't have him if
+you gave him to me. If I want to lose money, I'll go to Monte Carlo and
+do it properly."
+
+"Monte Carlo," said the gloomy man, brightening up at the magic name.
+"I was in Monte Carlo in the year '97, and if I'd had another fifty
+dollars... just fifty... I'd have..."
+
+At the far end of the table there was a stir, a cough, and the grating
+of a chair on the floor; and slowly, with that easy grace which actors
+of the old school learned in the days when acting was acting, Mr.
+Maxwell Faucitt, the boarding-house's oldest inhabitant, rose to his
+feet.
+
+"Ladies," said Mr. Faucitt, bowing courteously, "and..." ceasing to bow
+and casting from beneath his white and venerable eyebrows a quelling
+glance at certain male members of the boarding-house's younger set who
+were showing a disposition towards restiveness, "... gentlemen. I feel
+that I cannot allow this occasion to pass without saying a few words."
+
+His audience did not seem surprised. It was possible that life, always
+prolific of incident in a great city like New York, might some day
+produce an occasion which Mr. Faucitt would feel that he could allow to
+pass without saying a few words; but nothing of the sort had happened as
+yet, and they had given up hope. Right from the start of the meal they
+had felt that it would be optimism run mad to expect the old gentleman
+to abstain from speech on the night of Sally Nicholas' farewell
+dinner party; and partly because they had braced themselves to it, but
+principally because Miss Nicholas' hospitality had left them with a
+genial feeling of repletion, they settled themselves to listen
+with something resembling equanimity. A movement on the part of the
+Marvellous Murphys--new arrivals, who had been playing the Bushwick with
+their equilibristic act during the preceding week--to form a party of
+the extreme left and heckle the speaker, broke down under a cold look
+from their hostess. Brief though their acquaintance had been, both of
+these lissom young gentlemen admired Sally immensely.
+
+And it should be set on record that this admiration of theirs was not
+misplaced. He would have been hard to please who had not been attracted
+by Sally. She was a small, trim, wisp of a girl with the tiniest hands
+and feet, the friendliest of smiles, and a dimple that came and went
+in the curve of her rounded chin. Her eyes, which disappeared when she
+laughed, which was often, were a bright hazel; her hair a soft mass of
+brown. She had, moreover, a manner, an air of distinction lacking in the
+majority of Mrs. Meecher's guests. And she carried youth like a banner.
+In approving of Sally, the Marvellous Murphys had been guilty of no
+lapse from their high critical standard.
+
+"I have been asked," proceeded Mr. Faucitt, "though I am aware that
+there are others here far worthier of such a task--Brutuses compared
+with whom I, like Marc Antony, am no orator--I have been asked to
+propose the health..."
+
+"Who asked you?" It was the smaller of the Marvellous Murphys who spoke.
+He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty. Still, he could
+balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while
+revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
+
+"I have been asked," repeated Mr. Faucitt, ignoring the unmannerly
+interruption, which, indeed, he would have found it hard to answer, "to
+propose the health of our charming hostess (applause), coupled with the
+name of her brother, our old friend Fillmore Nicholas."
+
+The gentleman referred to, who sat at the speaker's end of the table,
+acknowledged the tribute with a brief nod of the head. It was a nod of
+condescension; the nod of one who, conscious of being hedged about by
+social inferiors, nevertheless does his best to be not unkindly. And
+Sally, seeing it, debated in her mind for an instant the advisability
+of throwing an orange at her brother. There was one lying ready to her
+hand, and his glistening shirt-front offered an admirable mark; but
+she restrained herself. After all, if a hostess yields to her primitive
+impulses, what happens? Chaos. She had just frowned down the exuberance
+of the rebellious Murphys, and she felt that if, even with the highest
+motives, she began throwing fruit, her influence for good in that
+quarter would be weakened.
+
+She leaned back with a sigh. The temptation had been hard to resist. A
+democratic girl, pomposity was a quality which she thoroughly disliked;
+and though she loved him, she could not disguise from herself that,
+ever since affluence had descended upon him some months ago, her brother
+Fillmore had become insufferably pompous. If there are any young men
+whom inherited wealth improves, Fillmore Nicholas was not one of them.
+He seemed to regard himself nowadays as a sort of Man of Destiny. To
+converse with him was for the ordinary human being like being received
+in audience by some more than stand-offish monarch. It had taken Sally
+over an hour to persuade him to leave his apartment on Riverside Drive
+and revisit the boarding-house for this special occasion; and, when he
+had come, he had entered wearing such faultless evening dress that he
+had made the rest of the party look like a gathering of tramp-cyclists.
+His white waistcoat alone was a silent reproach to honest poverty,
+and had caused an awkward constraint right through the soup and fish
+courses. Most of those present had known Fillmore Nicholas as an
+impecunious young man who could make a tweed suit last longer than one
+would have believed possible; they had called him "Fill" and helped him
+in more than usually lean times with small loans: but to-night they had
+eyed the waistcoat dumbly and shrank back abashed.
+
+"Speaking," said Mr. Faucitt, "as an Englishman--for though I have long
+since taken out what are technically known as my 'papers' it was as a
+subject of the island kingdom that I first visited this great country--I
+may say that the two factors in American life which have always made
+the profoundest impression upon me have been the lavishness of American
+hospitality and the charm of the American girl. To-night we have been
+privileged to witness the American girl in the capacity of hostess, and
+I think I am right in saying, in asseverating, in committing myself to
+the statement that this has been a night which none of us present here
+will ever forget. Miss Nicholas has given us, ladies and gentlemen, a
+banquet. I repeat, a banquet. There has been alcoholic refreshment. I
+do not know where it came from: I do not ask how it was procured, but we
+have had it. Miss Nicholas..."
+
+Mr. Faucitt paused to puff at his cigar. Sally's brother Fillmore
+suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch. Sally continued to lean
+forward raptly. She knew how happy it made the old gentleman to deliver
+a formal speech; and though she wished the subject had been different,
+she was prepared to listen indefinitely.
+
+"Miss Nicholas," resumed Mr. Faucitt, lowering his cigar, "... But why,"
+he demanded abruptly, "do I call her Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Because it's her name," hazarded the taller Murphy.
+
+Mr. Faucitt eyed him with disfavour. He disapproved of the marvellous
+brethren on general grounds because, himself a resident of years
+standing, he considered that these transients from the vaudeville stage
+lowered the tone of the boarding-house; but particularly because the one
+who had just spoken had, on his first evening in the place, addressed
+him as "grandpa."
+
+"Yes, sir," he said severely, "it is her name. But she has another name,
+sweeter to those who love her, those who worship her, those who have
+watched her with the eye of sedulous affection through the three years
+she has spent beneath this roof, though that name," said Mr. Faucitt,
+lowering the tone of his address and descending to what might almost be
+termed personalities, "may not be familiar to a couple of dud acrobats
+who have only been in the place a week-end, thank heaven, and are off
+to-morrow to infest some other city. That name," said Mr. Faucitt,
+soaring once more to a loftier plane, "is Sally. Our Sally. For three
+years our Sally has flitted about this establishment like--I choose the
+simile advisedly--like a ray of sunshine. For three years she has
+made life for us a brighter, sweeter thing. And now a sudden access of
+worldly wealth, happily synchronizing with her twenty-first birthday, is
+to remove her from our midst. From our midst, ladies and gentlemen,
+but not from our hearts. And I think I may venture to hope, to
+prognosticate, that, whatever lofty sphere she may adorn in the future,
+to whatever heights in the social world she may soar, she will still
+continue to hold a corner in her own golden heart for the comrades of
+her Bohemian days. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our hostess, Miss
+Sally Nicholas, coupled with the name of our old friend, her brother
+Fillmore."
+
+Sally, watching her brother heave himself to his feet as the cheers died
+away, felt her heart beat a little faster with anticipation. Fillmore
+was a fluent young man, once a power in his college debating society,
+and it was for that reason that she had insisted on his coming here
+tonight.
+
+She had guessed that Mr. Faucitt, the old dear, would say all sorts of
+delightful things about her, and she had mistrusted her ability to
+make a fitting reply. And it was imperative that a fitting reply should
+proceed from someone. She knew Mr. Faucitt so well. He looked on these
+occasions rather in the light of scenes from some play; and, sustaining
+his own part in them with such polished grace, was certain to be pained
+by anything in the nature of an anti-climax after he should have ceased
+to take the stage. Eloquent himself, he must be answered with eloquence,
+or his whole evening would be spoiled.
+
+Fillmore Nicholas smoothed a wrinkle out of his white waistcoat; and
+having rested one podgy hand on the table-cloth and the thumb of the
+other in his pocket, glanced down the table with eyes so haughtily
+drooping that Sally's fingers closed automatically about her orange, as
+she wondered whether even now it might not be a good thing...
+
+It seems to be one of Nature's laws that the most attractive girls
+should have the least attractive brothers. Fillmore Nicholas had not
+worn well. At the age of seven he had been an extraordinarily beautiful
+child, but after that he had gone all to pieces; and now, at the age of
+twenty-five, it would be idle to deny that he was something of a mess.
+For the three years preceding his twenty-fifth birthday, restricted
+means and hard work had kept his figure in check; but with money there
+had come an ever-increasing sleekness. He looked as if he fed too often
+and too well.
+
+All this, however, Sally was prepared to forgive him, if he would only
+make a good speech. She could see Mr. Faucitt leaning back in his chair,
+all courteous attention. Rolling periods were meat and drink to the old
+gentleman.
+
+Fillmore spoke.
+
+"I'm sure," said Fillmore, "you don't want a speech... Very good of you
+to drink our health. Thank you."
+
+He sat down.
+
+The effect of these few simple words on the company was marked, but not
+in every case identical. To the majority the emotion which they brought
+was one of unmixed relief. There had been something so menacing, so easy
+and practised, in Fillmore's attitude as he had stood there that the
+gloomier-minded had given him at least twenty minutes, and even the
+optimists had reckoned that they would be lucky if they got off with
+ten. As far as the bulk of the guests were concerned, there was
+no grumbling. Fillmore's, to their thinking, had been the ideal
+after-dinner speech.
+
+Far different was it with Mr. Maxwell Faucitt. The poor old man was
+wearing such an expression of surprise and dismay as he might have
+worn had somebody unexpectedly pulled the chair from under him. He was
+feeling the sick shock which comes to those who tread on a non-existent
+last stair. And Sally, catching sight of his face, uttered a sharp
+wordless exclamation as if she had seen a child fall down and hurt
+itself in the street. The next moment she had run round the table and
+was standing behind him with her arms round his neck. She spoke across
+him with a sob in her voice.
+
+"My brother," she stammered, directing a malevolent look at the
+immaculate Fillmore, who, avoiding her gaze, glanced down his nose
+and smoothed another wrinkle out of his waistcoat, "has not said
+quite--quite all I hoped he was going to say. I can't make a speech,
+but..." Sally gulped, "... but, I love you all and of course I shall
+never forget you, and... and..."
+
+Here Sally kissed Mr. Faucitt and burst into tears.
+
+"There, there," said Mr. Faucitt, soothingly. The kindest critic could
+not have claimed that Sally had been eloquent: nevertheless Mr. Maxwell
+Faucitt was conscious of no sense of anti-climax.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.
+The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-house
+immediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, who
+had furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into the
+night, had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly indignant
+sister. Her remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating sounds from the
+accused, had lasted some ten minutes.
+
+As she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubber
+ball which has been sat on. Dignified as he was to the world, he had
+never been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally when
+in one of these moods of hers. He regretted this, for it hurt his
+self-esteem, but he did not see how the fact could be altered. Sally
+had always been like that. Even the uncle, who after the deaths of their
+parents had become their guardian, had never, though a grim man, been
+able to cope successfully with Sally. In that last hectic scene three
+years ago, which had ended in their going out into the world, together
+like a second Adam and Eve, the verbal victory had been hers. And it
+had been Sally who had achieved triumph in the one battle which Mrs.
+Meecher, apparently as a matter of duty, always brought about with each
+of her patrons in the first week of their stay. A sweet-tempered
+girl, Sally, like most women of a generous spirit, had cyclonic
+potentialities.
+
+As she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till he
+had reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the defence.
+
+"What have I done?" demanded Fillmore plaintively.
+
+"Do you want to hear all over again?"
+
+"No, no," said Fillmore hastily. "But, listen. Sally, you don't
+understand my position. You don't seem to realize that all that sort of
+thing, all that boarding-house stuff, is a thing of the past. One's got
+beyond it. One wants to drop it. One wants to forget it, darn it! Be
+fair. Look at it from my viewpoint. I'm going to be a big man..."
+
+"You're going to be a fat man," said Sally, coldly.
+
+Fillmore refrained from discussing the point. He was sensitive.
+
+"I'm going to do big things," he substituted. "I've got a deal on at
+this very moment which... well, I can't tell you about it, but it's
+going to be big. Well, what I'm driving at, is about all this sort of
+thing"--he indicated the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher's home-from-home
+with a wide gesture--"is that it's over. Finished and done with. These
+people were all very well when..."
+
+"... when you'd lost your week's salary at poker and wanted to borrow a
+few dollars for the rent."
+
+"I always paid them back," protested Fillmore, defensively.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Well, we did," said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the air of
+a man who has no time for chopping straws. "Anyway, what I mean is, I
+don't see why, just because one has known people at a certain period in
+one's life when one was practically down and out, one should have
+them round one's neck for ever. One can't prevent people forming an
+I-knew-him-when club, but, darn it, one needn't attend the meetings."
+
+"One's friends..."
+
+"Oh, friends," said Fillmore. "That's just where all this makes me so
+tired. One's in a position where all these people are entitled to call
+themselves one's friends, simply because father put it in his will that
+I wasn't to get the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting me
+have it at twenty-one like anybody else. I wonder where I should have
+been by now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one."
+
+"In the poor-house, probably," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore was wounded.
+
+"Ah! you don't believe in me," he sighed.
+
+"Oh, you would be all right if you had one thing," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.
+Brains? Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct. He
+wondered where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.
+
+"One thing?" he said. "What's that?"
+
+"A nurse."
+
+Fillmore's sense of injury deepened. He supposed that this was always
+the way, that those nearest to a man never believed in his ability
+till he had proved it so masterfully that it no longer required the
+assistance of faith. Still, it was trying; and there was not much
+consolation to be derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to go
+through this sort of thing in his day. "I shall find my place in the
+world," he said sulkily.
+
+"Oh, you'll find your place all right," said Sally. "And I'll come
+round and bring you jelly and read to you on the days when visitors are
+allowed... Oh, hullo."
+
+The last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swinging
+briskly along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who now,
+coming abreast of them, stopped.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Foster."
+
+"Good evening. Miss Nicholas."
+
+"You don't know my brother, do you?"
+
+"I don't believe I do."
+
+"He left the underworld before you came to it," said Sally. "You
+wouldn't think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater among
+the proletariat, even as you and I. Mrs. Meecher looks on him as a son."
+
+The two men shook hands. Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Foster
+with his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him. He was an
+Englishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed, and
+very good to look at. Fillmore, who had recently been going in for one
+of those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the better to fit
+himself for his career of greatness, was rather impressed. It seemed to
+him that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was one of those who Get There.
+If you are that kind yourself, you get into the knack of recognizing the
+others. It is a sort of gift.
+
+There was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind that
+usually follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorry
+to get the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival to
+remove himself. He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it seemed
+probable that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less. He was glad
+that Mr. Foster had happened along at this particular juncture. Excusing
+himself briefly, he hurried off down the street.
+
+Sally stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round the
+corner. She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too late,
+she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would have been
+agreeable to say to him. And it had become obvious to her that Fillmore
+was not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing said to him
+nowadays. Then she dismissed him from her mind and turning to Gerald
+Foster, slipped her arm through his.
+
+"Well, Jerry, darling," she said. "What a shame you couldn't come to the
+party. Tell me all about everything."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was exactly two months since Sally had become engaged to Gerald
+Foster; but so rigorously had they kept the secret that nobody at Mrs.
+Meecher's so much as suspected it. To Sally, who all her life had hated
+concealing things, secrecy of any kind was objectionable: but in this
+matter Gerald had shown an odd streak almost of furtiveness in his
+character. An announced engagement complicated life. People fussed about
+you and bothered you. People either watched you or avoided you. Such
+were his arguments, and Sally, who would have glossed over and found
+excuses for a disposition on his part towards homicide or arson, put
+them down to artistic sensitiveness. There is nobody so sensitive as
+your artist, particularly if he be unsuccessful: and when an artist has
+so little success that he cannot afford to make a home for the woman
+he loves, his sensitiveness presumably becomes great indeed. Putting
+herself in his place, Sally could see that a protracted engagement,
+known by everybody, would be a standing advertisement of Gerald's
+failure to make good: and she acquiesced in the policy of secrecy,
+hoping that it would not last long. It seemed absurd to think of Gerald
+as an unsuccessful man. He had in him, as the recent Fillmore had
+perceived, something dynamic. He was one of those men of whom one could
+predict that they would succeed very suddenly and rapidly--overnight, as
+it were.
+
+"The party," said Sally, "went off splendidly." They had passed the
+boarding-house door, and were walking slowly down the street. "Everybody
+enjoyed themselves, I think, even though Fillmore did his best to spoil
+things by coming looking like an advertisement of What The Smart Men
+Will Wear This Season. You didn't see his waistcoat just now. He
+had covered it up. Conscience, I suppose. It was white and bulgy and
+gleaming and full up of pearl buttons and everything. I saw Augustus
+Bartlett curl up like a burnt feather when he caught sight of it. Still,
+time seemed to heal the wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit. Mr.
+Faucitt made a speech and I made a speech and cried, and...oh, it was
+all very festive. It only needed you."
+
+"I wish I could have come. I had to go to that dinner, though. Sally..."
+Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with suppressed
+excitement. "Sally, the play's going to be put on!"
+
+Sally gave a little gasp. She had lived this moment in anticipation for
+weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She
+had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were
+wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also
+admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was
+another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr.
+Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider
+that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with
+a future who would do something big directly she got her chance.
+
+"Jerry!" She gave his arm a hug. "How simply terrific! Then Goble and
+Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would."
+
+A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.
+
+"No, not that one," he said reluctantly. "No hope there, I'm afraid. I
+saw Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right.
+The one that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember?
+It's got a big part for a girl in it."
+
+"Of course! The one Elsa liked so much. Well, that's just as good. Who's
+going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again."
+
+"Well, it happens..." Gerald hesitated once more. "It seems that this
+man I was dining with to-night--a man named Cracknell..."
+
+"Cracknell? Not the Cracknell?"
+
+"The Cracknell?"
+
+"The one people are always talking about. The man they call the
+Millionaire Kid."
+
+"Yes. Why, do you know him?"
+
+"He was at Harvard with Fillmore. I never saw him, but he must be rather
+a painful person."
+
+"Oh, he's all right. Not much brains, of course, but--well, he's all
+right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on."
+
+"Well, that's splendid," said Sally: but she could not get the right
+ring of enthusiasm into her voice. She had had ideals for Gerald. She
+had dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under the banner of
+one of the big managers whose name carried a prestige, and there seemed
+something unworthy in this association with a man whose chief claim to
+eminence lay in the fact that he was credited by metropolitan gossip
+with possessing the largest private stock of alcohol in existence.
+
+"I thought you would be pleased," said Gerald.
+
+"Oh, I am," said Sally.
+
+With the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had
+already begun to cast off her momentary depression. After all, did
+it matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A
+manager was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if
+he had money for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer
+sensibilities from him? The real thing that mattered was the question
+of who was going to play the leading part, that deftly drawn character
+which had so excited the admiration of Elsa Doland. She sought
+information on this point.
+
+"Who will play Ruth?" she asked. "You must have somebody wonderful. It
+needs a tremendously clever woman. Did Mr. Cracknell say anything about
+that?"
+
+"Oh, yes, we discussed that, of course."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, it seems..." Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy
+embarrassment. Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night
+without feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a
+dark alley. She noticed it the more because it was so different from
+his usual direct method. Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who
+apologize for themselves. He was forthright and masterful and inclined
+to talk to her from a height. To-night he seemed different.
+
+He broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.
+
+"Do you know Mabel Hobson?"
+
+"Mabel Hobson? I've seen her in the 'Follies,' of course."
+
+Sally started. A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its
+absurdity became manifest the moment it had formed. And yet was
+it absurd? Most Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the
+boarding-house, chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the
+mild young man who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler,
+and she was aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always
+getting itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss
+Hobson. It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth,
+for the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts the
+Cracknells of this world. But even so...
+
+"It seems that Cracknell..." said Gerald. "Apparently this man
+Cracknell..." He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat
+trying. "Well, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and...
+well, he thinks this part would suit her."
+
+"Oh, Jerry!"
+
+Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of
+a Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as
+to make him entrust a part like Ruth in "The Primrose Way" to one who,
+when desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses
+across the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that
+she had not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald
+could perceive that this was not the stuff of which great emotional
+actresses are made.
+
+"Oh, Jerry!" she said again.
+
+There was an uncomfortable silence. They turned and walked back in the
+direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get
+itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache
+that was almost like a physical pain.
+
+"Jerry! Is it worth it?" she burst out vehemently.
+
+The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual
+decisive speech.
+
+"Worth it? Of course it's worth it. It's a Broadway production. That's
+all that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to get a
+play on Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away my
+chance when it comes along just because one might do better in the way
+of casting."
+
+"But, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first
+degree."
+
+"Nonsense. She'll be all right. The part will play itself. Besides,
+she has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the
+money in the world to make the thing a success. And it will be a start,
+whatever happens. Of course, it's worth it."
+
+Fillmore would have been impressed by this speech. He would have
+recognized and respected in it the unmistakable ring which characterizes
+even the lightest utterances of those who get there. On Sally it had not
+immediately that effect. Nevertheless, her habit of making the best of
+things, working together with that primary article of her creed that
+the man she loved could do no wrong, succeeded finally in raising her
+spirits. Of course Jerry was right. It would have been foolish to refuse
+a contract because all its clauses were not ideal.
+
+"You old darling," she said affectionately attaching herself to the
+vacant arm once more and giving it a penitent squeeze, "you're quite
+right. Of course you are. I can see it now. I was only a little startled
+at first. Everything's going to be wonderful. Let's get all our chickens
+out and count 'em. How are you going to spend the money?"
+
+"I know how I'm going to spend a dollar of it," said Gerald completely
+restored.
+
+"I mean the big money. What's a dollar?"
+
+"It pays for a marriage-licence."
+
+Sally gave his arm another squeeze.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "Look at this man. Observe him. My
+partner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. ENTER GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally was sitting with her back against a hillock of golden sand,
+watching with half-closed eyes the denizens of Roville-sur-Mer at their
+familiar morning occupations. At Roville, as at most French seashore
+resorts, the morning is the time when the visiting population assembles
+in force on the beach. Whiskered fathers of families made cheerful
+patches of colour in the foreground. Their female friends and relatives
+clustered in groups under gay parasols. Dogs roamed to and fro, and
+children dug industriously with spades, ever and anon suspending their
+labours in order to smite one another with these handy implements. One
+of the dogs, a poodle of military aspect, wandered up to Sally: and
+discovering that she was in possession of a box of sweets, decided to
+remain and await developments.
+
+Few things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them, but Sally's
+vacation had proved an exception to this rule. It had been a magic month
+of lazy happiness. She had drifted luxuriously from one French town to
+another, till the charm of Roville, with its blue sky, its Casino,
+its snow-white hotels along the Promenade, and its general glitter
+and gaiety, had brought her to a halt. Here she could have stayed
+indefinitely, but the voice of America was calling her back. Gerald had
+written to say that "The Primrose Way" was to be produced in Detroit,
+preliminary to its New York run, so soon that, if she wished to see the
+opening, she must return at once. A scrappy, hurried, unsatisfactory
+letter, the letter of a busy man: but one that Sally could not ignore.
+She was leaving Roville to-morrow.
+
+To-day, however, was to-day: and she sat and watched the bathers with
+a familiar feeling of peace, revelling as usual in the still novel
+sensation of having nothing to do but bask in the warm sunshine and
+listen to the faint murmur of the little waves.
+
+But, if there was one drawback, she had discovered, to a morning on the
+Roville plage, it was that you had a tendency to fall asleep: and this
+is a degrading thing to do so soon after breakfast, even if you are on
+a holiday. Usually, Sally fought stoutly against the temptation, but
+to-day the sun was so warm and the whisper of the waves so insinuating
+that she had almost dozed off, when she was aroused by voices close at
+hand. There were many voices on the beach, both near and distant, but
+these were talking English, a novelty in Roville, and the sound of the
+familiar tongue jerked Sally back from the borders of sleep. A few feet
+away, two men had seated themselves on the sand.
+
+From the first moment she had set out on her travels, it had been one of
+Sally's principal amusements to examine the strangers whom chance threw
+in her way and to try by the light of her intuition to fit them out with
+characters and occupations: nor had she been discouraged by an almost
+consistent failure to guess right. Out of the corner of her eye she
+inspected these two men.
+
+The first of the pair did not attract her. He was a tall, dark man whose
+tight, precise mouth and rather high cheeks bones gave him an appearance
+vaguely sinister. He had the dusky look of the clean-shaven man whose
+life is a perpetual struggle with a determined beard. He certainly
+shaved twice a day, and just as certainly had the self-control not to
+swear when he cut himself. She could picture him smiling nastily when
+this happened.
+
+"Hard," diagnosed Sally. "I shouldn't like him. A lawyer or something, I
+think."
+
+She turned to the other and found herself looking into his eyes. This
+was because he had been staring at Sally with the utmost intentness ever
+since his arrival. His mouth had opened slightly. He had the air of a
+man who, after many disappointments, has at last found something worth
+looking at.
+
+"Rather a dear," decided Sally.
+
+He was a sturdy, thick-set young man with an amiable, freckled face and
+the reddest hair Sally had ever seen. He had a square chin, and at one
+angle of the chin a slight cut. And Sally was convinced that, however
+he had behaved on receipt of that wound, it had not been with superior
+self-control.
+
+"A temper, I should think," she meditated. "Very quick, but soon over.
+Not very clever, I should say, but nice."
+
+She looked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.
+
+The dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one
+felt, characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting
+a cigarette in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and
+resumed the conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by the
+process of sitting down.
+
+"And how is Scrymgeour?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, all right," replied the young man with red hair absently. Sally was
+looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his eyes were still
+busy.
+
+"I was surprised at his being here. He told me he meant to stay in
+Paris."
+
+There was a slight pause. Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
+nougat.
+
+"I say," observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating tones
+that vibrated with intense feeling, "that's the prettiest girl I've seen
+in my life!"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+At this frank revelation of the red-haired young man's personal
+opinions, Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased. A
+broad-minded girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on a
+matter of public interest. The young man's companion, on the other hand,
+was unmixedly shocked.
+
+"My dear fellow!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Oh, it's all right," said the red-haired young man, unmoved. "She can't
+understand. There isn't a bally soul in this dashed place that can speak
+a word of English. If I didn't happen to remember a few odd bits of
+French, I should have starved by this time. That girl," he went on,
+returning to the subject most imperatively occupying his mind, "is an
+absolute topper! I give you my solemn word I've never seen anybody to
+touch her. Look at those hands and feet. You don't get them outside
+France. Of course, her mouth is a bit wide," he said reluctantly.
+
+Sally's immobility, added to the other's assurance concerning the
+linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to
+reassure the dark man. He breathed again. At no period of his life
+had he ever behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness
+himself, but he had quailed at the idea of being associated even
+remotely with incorrectness in another. It had been a black moment for
+him when the red-haired young man had uttered those few kind words.
+
+"Still you ought to be careful," he said austerely.
+
+He looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the
+poodle and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and
+returned to the topic of the mysterious Scrymgeour.
+
+"How is Scrymgeour's dyspepsia?"
+
+The red-haired young man seemed but faintly interested in the
+vicissitudes of Scrymgeour's interior.
+
+"Do you notice the way her hair sort of curls over her ears?" he said.
+"Eh? Oh, pretty much the same, I think."
+
+"What hotel are you staying at?"
+
+"The Normandie."
+
+Sally, dipping into the box for another chocolate cream, gave an
+imperceptible start. She, too, was staying at the Normandie. She
+presumed that her admirer was a recent arrival, for she had seen nothing
+of him at the hotel.
+
+"The Normandie?" The dark man looked puzzled. "I know Roville pretty
+well by report, but I've never heard of any Hotel Normandie. Where is
+it?"
+
+"It's a little shanty down near the station. Not much of a place. Still,
+it's cheap, and the cooking's all right."
+
+His companion's bewilderment increased.
+
+"What on earth is a man like Scrymgeour doing there?" he said. Sally
+was conscious of an urgent desire to know more and more about the absent
+Scrymgeour. Constant repetition of his name had made him seem almost
+like an old friend. "If there's one thing he's fussy about..."
+
+"There are at least eleven thousand things he's fussy about,"
+interrupted the red-haired young man disapprovingly. "Jumpy old
+blighter!"
+
+"If there's one thing he's particular about, it's the sort of hotel
+he goes to. Ever since I've known him he has always wanted the best. I
+should have thought he would have gone to the Splendide." He mused on
+this problem in a dissatisfied sort of way for a moment, then seemed to
+reconcile himself to the fact that a rich man's eccentricities must be
+humoured. "I'd like to see him again. Ask him if he will dine with me at
+the Splendide to-night. Say eight sharp."
+
+Sally, occupied with her dogs, whose numbers had now been augmented by
+a white terrier with a black patch over its left eye, could not see
+the young man's face: but his voice, when he replied, told her that
+something was wrong. There was a false airiness in it.
+
+"Oh, Scrymgeour isn't in Roville."
+
+"No? Where is he?"
+
+"Paris, I believe."
+
+"What!" The dark man's voice sharpened. He sounded as though he were
+cross-examining a reluctant witness. "Then why aren't you there? What
+are you doing here? Did he give you a holiday?"
+
+"Yes, he did."
+
+"When do you rejoin him?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"What!"
+
+The red-haired young man's manner was not unmistakably dogged.
+
+"Well, if you want to know," he said, "the old blighter fired me the day
+before yesterday."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+There was a shuffling of sand as the dark man sprang up. Sally, intent
+on the drama which was unfolding itself beside her, absent-mindedly gave
+the poodle a piece of nougat which should by rights have gone to the
+terrier. She shot a swift glance sideways, and saw the dark man standing
+in an attitude rather reminiscent of the stern father of melodrama about
+to drive his erring daughter out into the snow. The red-haired young
+man, outwardly stolid, was gazing before him down the beach at a fat
+bather in an orange suit who, after six false starts, was now actually
+in the water, floating with the dignity of a wrecked balloon.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," demanded the dark man, "that, after all the
+trouble the family took to get you what was practically a sinecure
+with endless possibilities if you only behaved yourself, you have
+deliberately thrown away..." A despairing gesture completed the
+sentence. "Good God, you're hopeless!"
+
+The red-haired young man made no reply. He continued to gaze down the
+beach. Of all outdoor sports, few are more stimulating than watching
+middle-aged Frenchmen bathe. Drama, action, suspense, all are here. From
+the first stealthy testing of the water with an apprehensive toe to the
+final seal-like plunge, there is never a dull moment. And apart from the
+excitement of the thing, judging it from a purely aesthetic standpoint,
+his must be a dull soul who can fail to be uplifted by the spectacle of
+a series of very stout men with whiskers, seen in tight bathing suits
+against a background of brightest blue. Yet the young man with red hair,
+recently in the employment of Mr. Scrymgeour, eyed this free circus
+without any enjoyment whatever.
+
+"It's maddening! What are you going to do? What do you expect us to do?
+Are we to spend our whole lives getting you positions which you won't
+keep? I can tell you we're... it's monstrous! It's sickening! Good God!"
+
+And with these words the dark man, apparently feeling, as Sally had
+sometimes felt in the society of her brother Fillmore, the futility of
+mere language, turned sharply and stalked away up the beach, the dignity
+of his exit somewhat marred a moment later by the fact of his straw hat
+blowing off and being trodden on by a passing child.
+
+He left behind him the sort of electric calm which follows the falling
+of a thunderbolt; that stunned calm through which the air seems still to
+quiver protestingly. How long this would have lasted one cannot say:
+for towards the end of the first minute it was shattered by a purely
+terrestrial uproar. With an abruptness heralded only by one short, low
+gurgling snarl, there sprang into being the prettiest dog fight that
+Roville had seen that season.
+
+It was the terrier with the black patch who began it. That was Sally's
+opinion: and such, one feels, will be the verdict of history. His best
+friend, anxious to make out a case for him, could not have denied that
+he fired the first gun of the campaign. But we must be just. The fault
+was really Sally's. Absorbed in the scene which had just concluded and
+acutely inquisitive as to why the shadowy Scrymgeour had seen fit to
+dispense with the red-haired young man's services, she had thrice in
+succession helped the poodle out of his turn. The third occasion was too
+much for the terrier.
+
+There is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the
+average mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast
+clashing of the elements. It seems so outside one's jurisdiction. One is
+oppressed with a sense of the futility of interference. And this was no
+ordinary dog fight. It was a stunning melee, which would have excited
+favourable comment even among the blase residents of a negro quarter or
+the not easily-pleased critics of a Lancashire mining-village. From all
+over the beach dogs of every size, breed, and colour were racing to the
+scene: and while some of these merely remained in the ringside seats
+and barked, a considerable proportion immediately started fighting one
+another on general principles, well content to be in action without
+bothering about first causes. The terrier had got the poodle by the
+left hind-leg and was restating his war-aims. The raffish mongrel
+was apparently endeavouring to fletcherize a complete stranger of the
+Sealyham family.
+
+Sally was frankly unequal to the situation, as were the entire crowd of
+spectators who had come galloping up from the water's edge. She had been
+paralysed from the start. Snarling bundles bumped against her legs and
+bounced away again, but she made no move. Advice in fluent French rent
+the air. Arms waved, and well-filled bathing suits leaped up and down.
+But nobody did anything practical until in the centre of the theatre of
+war there suddenly appeared the red-haired young man.
+
+The only reason why dog fights do not go on for ever is that Providence
+has decided that on each such occasion there shall always be among those
+present one Master Mind; one wizard who, whatever his shortcomings in
+other battles of life, is in this single particular sphere competent and
+dominating. At Roville-sur-Mer it was the red-haired young man. His dark
+companion might have turned from him in disgust: his services might not
+have seemed worth retaining by the haughty Scrymgeour: he might be a
+pain in the neck to "the family"; but he did know how to stop a dog
+fight. From the first moment of his intervention calm began to steal
+over the scene. He had the same effect on the almost inextricably
+entwined belligerents as, in mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail, sliding
+down the sunbeam, used to have on battling knights. He did not look like
+a dove of peace, but the most captious could not have denied that he
+brought home the goods. There was a magic in his soothing hands, a
+spell in his voice: and in a shorter time than one would have believed
+possible dog after dog had been sorted out and calmed down; until
+presently all that was left of Armageddon was one solitary small Scotch
+terrier, thoughtfully licking a chewed leg. The rest of the combatants,
+once more in their right mind and wondering what all the fuss was about,
+had been captured and haled away in a whirl of recrimination by voluble
+owners.
+
+Having achieved this miracle, the young man turned to Sally. Gallant,
+one might say reckless, as he had been a moment before, he now gave
+indications of a rather pleasing shyness. He braced himself with that
+painful air of effort which announces to the world that an Englishman is
+about to speak a language other than his own.
+
+"J'espere," he said, having swallowed once or twice to brace himself up
+for the journey through the jungle of a foreign tongue, "J'espere que
+vous n'etes pas--oh, dammit, what's the word--J'espere que vous n'etes
+pas blessee?"
+
+"Blessee?"
+
+"Yes, blessee. Wounded. Hurt, don't you know. Bitten. Oh, dash it.
+J'espere..."
+
+"Oh, bitten!" said Sally, dimpling. "Oh, no, thanks very much. I wasn't
+bitten. And I think it was awfully brave of you to save all our lives."
+
+The compliment seemed to pass over the young man's head. He stared at
+Sally with horrified eyes. Over his amiable face there swept a vivid
+blush. His jaw dropped.
+
+"Oh, my sainted aunt!" he ejaculated.
+
+Then, as if the situation was too much for him and flight the only
+possible solution, he spun round and disappeared at a walk so rapid that
+it was almost a run. Sally watched him go and was sorry that he had torn
+himself away. She still wanted to know why Scrymgeour had fired him.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Bedtime at Roville is an hour that seems to vary according to one's
+proximity to the sea. The gilded palaces along the front keep deplorable
+hours, polluting the night air till dawn with indefatigable jazz: but at
+the pensions of the economical like the Normandie, early to bed is the
+rule. True, Jules, the stout young native who combined the offices of
+night-clerk and lift attendant at that establishment, was on duty in the
+hall throughout the night, but few of the Normandie's patrons made use
+of his services.
+
+Sally, entering shortly before twelve o'clock on the night of the day
+on which the dark man, the red-haired young man, and their friend
+Scrymgeour had come into her life, found the little hall dim and silent.
+Through the iron cage of the lift a single faint bulb glowed: another,
+over the desk in the far corner, illuminated the upper half of Jules,
+slumbering in a chair. Jules seemed to Sally to be on duty in some
+capacity or other all the time. His work, like women's, was never done.
+He was now restoring his tissues with a few winks of much-needed beauty
+sleep. Sally, who had been to the Casino to hear the band and afterwards
+had strolled on the moonlit promenade, had a guilty sense of intrusion.
+
+As she stood there, reluctant to break in on Jules' rest--for her
+sympathetic heart, always at the disposal of the oppressed, had long
+ached for this overworked peon--she was relieved to hear footsteps in
+the street outside, followed by the opening of the front door. If Jules
+would have had to wake up anyway, she felt her sense of responsibility
+lessened. The door, having opened, closed again with a bang. Jules
+stirred, gurgled, blinked, and sat up, and Sally, turning, perceived
+that the new arrival was the red-haired young man.
+
+"Oh, good evening," said Sally welcomingly.
+
+The young man stopped, and shuffled uncomfortably. The morning's
+happenings were obviously still green in his memory. He had either not
+ceased blushing since their last meeting or he was celebrating their
+reunion by beginning to blush again: for his face was a familiar
+scarlet.
+
+"Er--good evening," he said, disentangling his feet, which, in the
+embarrassment of the moment, had somehow got coiled up together.
+
+"Or bon soir, I suppose you would say," murmured Sally.
+
+The young man acknowledged receipt of this thrust by dropping his hat
+and tripping over it as he stooped to pick it up.
+
+Jules, meanwhile, who had been navigating in a sort of somnambulistic
+trance in the neighbourhood of the lift, now threw back the cage with a
+rattle.
+
+"It's a shame to have woken you up," said Sally, commiseratingly,
+stepping in.
+
+Jules did not reply, for the excellent reason that he had not been
+woken up. Constant practice enabled him to do this sort of work without
+breaking his slumber. His brain, if you could call it that, was working
+automatically. He had shut up the gate with a clang and was tugging
+sluggishly at the correct rope, so that the lift was going slowly up
+instead of retiring down into the basement, but he was not awake.
+
+Sally and the red-haired young man sat side by side on the small seat,
+watching their conductor's efforts. After the first spurt, conversation
+had languished. Sally had nothing of immediate interest to say, and her
+companion seemed to be one of these strong, silent men you read about.
+Only a slight snore from Jules broke the silence.
+
+At the third floor Sally leaned forward and prodded Jules in the lower
+ribs. All through her stay at Roville, she had found in dealing with the
+native population that actions spoke louder than words. If she wanted
+anything in a restaurant or at a shop, she pointed; and, when she wished
+the lift to stop, she prodded the man in charge. It was a system worth a
+dozen French conversation books.
+
+Jules brought the machine to a halt: and it was at this point that
+he should have done the one thing connected with his professional
+activities which he did really well--the opening, to wit, of the iron
+cage. There are ways of doing this. Jules' was the right way. He was
+accustomed to do it with a flourish, and generally remarked "V'la!" in
+a modest but self-congratulatory voice as though he would have liked
+to see another man who could have put through a job like that. Jules'
+opinion was that he might not be much to look at, but that he could open
+a lift door.
+
+To-night, however, it seemed as if even this not very exacting feat was
+beyond his powers. Instead of inserting his key in the lock, he stood
+staring in an attitude of frozen horror. He was a man who took most
+things in life pretty seriously, and whatever was the little difficulty
+just now seemed to have broken him all up.
+
+"There appears," said Sally, turning to her companion, "to be a hitch.
+Would you mind asking what's the matter? I don't know any French myself
+except 'oo la la!'"
+
+The young man, thus appealed to, nerved himself to the task. He eyed the
+melancholy Jules doubtfully, and coughed in a strangled sort of way.
+
+"Oh, esker... esker vous..."
+
+"Don't weaken," said Sally. "I think you've got him going."
+
+"Esker vous... Pourquoi vous ne... I mean ne vous... that is to say,
+quel est le raison..."
+
+He broke off here, because at this point Jules began to explain. He
+explained very rapidly and at considerable length. The fact that neither
+of his hearers understood a word of what he was saying appeared not
+to have impressed itself upon him. Or, if he gave a thought to it,
+he dismissed the objection as trifling. He wanted to explain, and he
+explained. Words rushed from him like water from a geyser. Sounds which
+you felt you would have been able to put a meaning to if he had detached
+them from the main body and repeated them slowly, went swirling down the
+stream and were lost for ever.
+
+"Stop him!" said Sally firmly.
+
+The red-haired young man looked as a native of Johnstown might have
+looked on being requested to stop that city's celebrated flood.
+
+"Stop him?"
+
+"Yes. Blow a whistle or something."
+
+Out of the depths of the young man's memory there swam to the surface
+a single word--a word which he must have heard somewhere or read
+somewhere: a legacy, perhaps, from long-vanished school-days.
+
+"Zut!" he barked, and instantaneously Jules turned himself off at the
+main. There was a moment of dazed silence, such as might occur in a
+boiler-factory if the works suddenly shut down.
+
+"Quick! Now you've got him!" cried Sally. "Ask him what he's talking
+about--if he knows, which I doubt--and tell him to speak slowly. Then we
+shall get somewhere."
+
+The young man nodded intelligently. The advice was good.
+
+"Lentement," he said. "Parlez lentement. Pas si--you know what I
+mean--pas si dashed vite!"
+
+"Ah-a-ah!" cried Jules, catching the idea on the fly. "Lentement. Ah,
+oui, lentement."
+
+There followed a lengthy conversation which, while conveying nothing to
+Sally, seemed intelligible to the red-haired linguist.
+
+"The silly ass," he was able to announce some few minutes later, "has
+made a bloomer. Apparently he was half asleep when we came in, and he
+shoved us into the lift and slammed the door, forgetting that he had
+left the keys on the desk."
+
+"I see," said Sally. "So we're shut in?"
+
+"I'm afraid so. I wish to goodness," said the young man, "I knew French
+well. I'd curse him with some vim and not a little animation, the chump!
+I wonder what 'blighter' is in French," he said, meditating.
+
+"It's the merest suggestion," said Sally, "but oughtn't we to do
+something?"
+
+"What could we do?"
+
+"Well, for one thing, we might all utter a loud yell. It would scare
+most of the people in the hotel to death, but there might be a survivor
+or two who would come and investigate and let us out."
+
+"What a ripping idea!" said the young man, impressed.
+
+"I'm glad you like it. Now tell him the main out-line, or he'll think
+we've gone mad."
+
+The young man searched for words, and eventually found some which
+expressed his meaning lamely but well enough to cause Jules to nod in a
+depressed sort of way.
+
+"Fine!" said Sally. "Now, all together at the word 'three.'
+One--two--Oh, poor darling!" she broke off. "Look at him!"
+
+In the far corner of the lift, the emotional Jules was sobbing silently
+into the bunch of cotton-waste which served him in the office of a
+pocket-handkerchief. His broken-hearted gulps echoed hollowly down the
+shaft.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+In these days of cheap books of instruction on every subject under the
+sun, we most of us know how to behave in the majority of life's little
+crises. We have only ourselves to blame if we are ignorant of what to
+do before the doctor comes, of how to make a dainty winter coat for baby
+out of father's last year's under-vest and of the best method of coping
+with the cold mutton. But nobody yet has come forward with practical
+advice as to the correct method of behaviour to be adopted when
+a lift-attendant starts crying. And Sally and her companion, as a
+consequence, for a few moments merely stared at each other helplessly.
+
+"Poor darling!" said Sally, finding speech. "Ask him what's the matter."
+
+The young man looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"You know," he said, "I don't enjoy chatting with this blighter. I mean
+to say, it's a bit of an effort. I don't know why it is, but talking
+French always makes me feel as if my nose were coming off. Couldn't we
+just leave him to have his cry out by himself?"
+
+"The idea!" said Sally. "Have you no heart? Are you one of those fiends
+in human shape?"
+
+He turned reluctantly to Jules, and paused to overhaul his vocabulary.
+
+"You ought to be thankful for this chance," said Sally. "It's the only
+real way of learning French, and you're getting a lesson for nothing.
+What did he say then?"
+
+"Something about losing something, it seemed to me. I thought I caught
+the word perdu."
+
+"But that means a partridge, doesn't it? I'm sure I've seen it on the
+menus."
+
+"Would he talk about partridges at a time like this?"
+
+"He might. The French are extraordinary people."
+
+"Well, I'll have another go at him. But he's a difficult chap to chat
+with. If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of goes off like
+a rocket." He addressed another question to the sufferer, and listened
+attentively to the voluble reply.
+
+"Oh!" he said with sudden enlightenment. "Your job?" He turned to Sally.
+"I got it that time," he said. "The trouble is, he says, that if we yell
+and rouse the house, we'll get out all right, but he will lose his job,
+because this is the second time this sort of thing has happened, and
+they warned him last time that once more would mean the push."
+
+"Then we mustn't dream of yelling," said Sally, decidedly. "It means
+a pretty long wait, you know. As far as I can gather, there's just a
+chance of somebody else coming in later, in which case he could let
+us out. But it's doubtful. He rather thinks that everybody has gone to
+roost."
+
+"Well, we must try it. I wouldn't think of losing the poor man his job.
+Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then we'll just
+sit and amuse ourselves till something happens. We've lots to talk
+about. We can tell each other the story of our lives."
+
+Jules, cheered by his victims' kindly forbearance, lowered the car to
+the ground floor, where, after a glance of infinite longing at the keys
+on the distant desk, the sort of glance which Moses must have cast at
+the Promised Land from the summit of Mount Pisgah, he sagged down in a
+heap and resumed his slumbers. Sally settled herself as comfortably as
+possible in her corner.
+
+"You'd better smoke," she said. "It will be something to do."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And now," said Sally, "tell me why Scrymgeour fired you."
+
+Little by little, under the stimulating influence of this nocturnal
+adventure, the red-haired young man had lost that shy confusion which
+had rendered him so ill at ease when he had encountered Sally in the
+hall of the hotel; but at this question embarrassment gripped him once
+more. Another of those comprehensive blushes of his raced over his face,
+and he stammered.
+
+"I say, I'm glad... I'm fearfully sorry about that, you know!"
+
+"About Scrymgeour?"
+
+"You know what I mean. I mean, about making such a most ghastly ass of
+myself this morning. I... I never dreamed you understood English."
+
+"Why, I didn't object. I thought you were very nice and complimentary.
+Of course, I don't know how many girls you've seen in your life, but..."
+
+"No, I say, don't! It makes me feel such a chump."
+
+"And I'm sorry about my mouth. It is wide. But I know you're a
+fair-minded man and realize that it isn't my fault."
+
+"Don't rub it in," pleaded the young man. "As a matter of fact, if you
+want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect. I think," he
+proceeded, a little feverishly, "that you are the most indescribable
+topper that ever..."
+
+"You were going to tell me about Scrymgeour," said Sally.
+
+The young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
+sleep-walking. Eloquence had carried him away.
+
+"Scrymgeour?" he said. "Oh, that would bore you."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally reprovingly. "Can't you realize that we're
+practically castaways on a desert island? There's nothing to do till
+to-morrow but talk about ourselves. I want to hear all about you,
+and then I'll tell you all about myself. If you feel diffident about
+starting the revelations, I'll begin. Better start with names. Mine is
+Sally Nicholas. What's yours?"
+
+"Mine? Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean."
+
+"I thought you would. I put it as clearly as I could. Well, what is it?"
+
+"Kemp."
+
+"And the first name?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said the young man, "I've always rather
+hushed up my first name, because when I was christened they worked a
+low-down trick on me!"
+
+"You can't shock me," said Sally, encouragingly. "My father's name was
+Ezekiel, and I've a brother who was christened Fillmore."
+
+Mr. Kemp brightened. "Well, mine isn't as bad as that... No, I don't
+mean that," he broke off apologetically. "Both awfully jolly names, of
+course..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+"Well, they called me Lancelot. And, of course, the thing is that I
+don't look like a Lancelot and never shall. My pals," he added in a more
+cheerful strain, "call me Ginger."
+
+"I don't blame them," said Sally.
+
+"Perhaps you wouldn't mind thinking of me as Ginger?'' suggested the
+young man diffidently.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's awfully good of you."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+Jules stirred in his sleep and grunted. No other sound came to disturb
+the stillness of the night.
+
+"You were going to tell me about yourself?" said Mr. Lancelot (Ginger)
+Kemp.
+
+"I'm going to tell you all about myself," said Sally, "not because I
+think it will interest you..."
+
+"Oh, it will!"
+
+"Not, I say, because I think it will interest you..."
+
+"It will, really."
+
+Sally looked at him coldly.
+
+"Is this a duet?" she inquired, "or have I the floor?"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry."
+
+"Not, I repeat for the third time, because I think It will interest you,
+but because if I do you won't have any excuse for not telling me your
+life-history, and you wouldn't believe how inquisitive I am. Well, in
+the first place, I live in America. I'm over here on a holiday. And it's
+the first real holiday I've had in three years--since I left home, in
+fact." Sally paused. "I ran away from home," she said.
+
+"Good egg!" said Ginger Kemp.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"I mean, quite right. I bet you were quite right."
+
+"When I say home," Sally went on, "it was only a sort of imitation
+home, you know. One of those just-as-good homes which are never as
+satisfactory as the real kind. My father and mother both died a good
+many years ago. My brother and I were dumped down on the reluctant
+doorstep of an uncle."
+
+"Uncles," said Ginger Kemp, feelingly, "are the devil. I've got an...
+but I'm interrupting you."
+
+"My uncle was our trustee. He had control of all my brother's money
+and mine till I was twenty-one. My brother was to get his when he was
+twenty-five. My poor father trusted him blindly, and what do you think
+happened?"
+
+"Good Lord! The blighter embezzled the lot?"
+
+"No, not a cent. Wasn't it extraordinary! Have you ever heard of a
+blindly trusted uncle who was perfectly honest? Well, mine was. But the
+trouble was that, while an excellent man to have looking after one's
+money, he wasn't a very lovable character. He was very hard. Hard!
+He was as hard as--well, nearly as hard as this seat. He hated poor
+Fill..."
+
+"Phil?"
+
+"I broke it to you just now that my brother's name was Fillmore."
+
+"Oh, your brother. Oh, ah, yes."
+
+"He was always picking on poor Fill. And I'm bound to say that Fill
+rather laid himself out as what you might call a pickee. He was always
+getting into trouble. One day, about three years ago, he was expelled
+from Harvard, and my uncle vowed he would have nothing more to do with
+him. So I said, if Fill left, I would leave. And, as this seemed to be
+my uncle's idea of a large evening, no objection was raised, and Fill
+and I departed. We went to New York, and there we've been ever since.
+About six months' ago Fill passed the twenty-five mark and collected his
+money, and last month I marched past the given point and got mine. So it
+all ends happily, you see. Now tell me about yourself."
+
+"But, I say, you know, dash it, you've skipped a lot. I mean to say, you
+must have had an awful time in New York, didn't you? How on earth did
+you get along?"
+
+"Oh, we found work. My brother tried one or two things, and finally
+became an assistant stage-manager with some theatre people. The only
+thing I could do, having been raised in enervating luxury, was ballroom
+dancing, so I ball-room danced. I got a job at a place in Broadway
+called 'The Flower Garden' as what is humorously called an
+'instructress,' as if anybody could 'instruct' the men who came there.
+One was lucky if one saved one's life and wasn't quashed to death."
+
+"How perfectly foul!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It was rather fun for a while. Still," said Sally,
+meditatively, "I'm not saying I could have held out much longer: I was
+beginning to give. I suppose I've been trampled underfoot by more fat
+men than any other girl of my age in America. I don't know why it was,
+but every man who came in who was a bit overweight seemed to make for me
+by instinct. That's why I like to sit on the sands here and watch
+these Frenchmen bathing. It's just heavenly to lie back and watch a two
+hundred and fifty pound man, coming along and feel that he isn't going
+to dance with me."
+
+"But, I say! How absolutely rotten it must have been for you!"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It's going to make me a very
+domesticated wife one of these days. You won't find me gadding about in
+gilded jazz-palaces! For me, a little place in the country somewhere,
+with my knitting and an Elsie book, and bed at half-past nine! And now
+tell me the story of your life. And make it long because I'm perfectly
+certain there's going to be no relief-expedition. I'm sure the last
+dweller under this roof came in years ago. We shall be here till
+morning."
+
+"I really think we had better shout, you know."
+
+"And lose Jules his job? Never!"
+
+"Well, of course, I'm sorry for poor old Jules' troubles, but I hate to
+think of you having to..."
+
+"Now get on with the story," said Sally.
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+
+Ginger Kemp exhibited some of the symptoms of a young bridegroom called
+upon at a wedding-breakfast to respond to the toast. He moved his feet
+restlessly and twisted his fingers.
+
+"I hate talking about myself, you know," he said.
+
+"So I supposed," said Sally. "That's why I gave you my autobiography
+first, to give you no chance of backing out. Don't be such a shrinking
+violet. We're all shipwrecked mariners here. I am intensely interested
+in your narrative. And, even if I wasn't, I'd much rather listen to it
+than to Jules' snoring."
+
+"He is snoring a bit, what? Does it annoy you? Shall I stir him?"
+
+"You seem to have an extraordinary brutal streak in your nature," said
+Sally. "You appear to think of nothing else but schemes for harassing
+poor Jules. Leave him alone for a second, and start telling me about
+yourself."
+
+"Where shall I start?"
+
+"Well, not with your childhood, I think. We'll skip that."
+
+"Well..." Ginger Kemp knitted his brow, searching for a dramatic
+opening. "Well, I'm more or less what you might call an orphan, like
+you. I mean to say, both my people are dead and all that sort of thing."
+
+"Thanks for explaining. That has made it quite clear."
+
+"I can't remember my mother. My father died when I was in my last
+year at Cambridge. I'd been having a most awfully good time at the
+'varsity,'" said Ginger, warming to his theme. "Not thick, you know, but
+good. I'd got my rugger and boxing blues and I'd just been picked for
+scrum-half for England against the North in the first trial match, and
+between ourselves it really did look as if I was more or less of a snip
+for my international."
+
+Sally gazed at him wide eyed.
+
+"Is that good or bad?" she asked.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Are you reciting a catalogue of your crimes, or do you expect me to get
+up and cheer? What is a rugger blue, to start with?"
+
+"Well, it's... it's a rugger blue, you know."
+
+"Oh, I see," said Sally. "You mean a rugger blue."
+
+"I mean to say, I played rugger--footer--that's to say, football--Rugby
+football--for Cambridge, against Oxford. I was scrum-half."
+
+"And what is a scrum-half?" asked Sally, patiently. "Yes, I know you're
+going to say it's a scrum-half, but can't you make it easier?"
+
+"The scrum-half," said Ginger, "is the half who works the scrum. He
+slings the pill out to the fly-half, who starts the three-quarters
+going. I don't know if you understand?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"It's dashed hard to explain," said Ginger Kemp, unhappily. "I mean,
+I don't think I've ever met anyone before who didn't know what a
+scrum-half was."
+
+"Well, I can see that it has something to do with football, so we'll
+leave it at that. I suppose it's something like our quarter-back. And
+what's an international?"
+
+"It's called getting your international when you play for England, you
+know. England plays Wales, France, Ireland, and Scotland. If it hadn't
+been for the smash, I think I should have played for England against
+Wales."
+
+"I see at last. What you're trying to tell me is that you were very good
+at football."
+
+Ginger Kemp blushed warmly.
+
+"Oh, I don't say that. England was pretty short of scrum-halves that
+year."
+
+"What a horrible thing to happen to a country! Still, you were likely
+to be picked on the All-England team when the smash came? What was the
+smash?"
+
+"Well, it turned out that the poor old pater hadn't left a penny. I
+never understood the process exactly, but I'd always supposed that we
+were pretty well off; and then it turned out that I hadn't anything at
+all. I'm bound to say it was a bit of a jar. I had to come down from
+Cambridge and go to work in my uncle's office. Of course, I made an
+absolute hash of it."
+
+"Why, of course?"
+
+"Well, I'm not a very clever sort of chap, you see. I somehow didn't
+seem able to grasp the workings. After about a year, my uncle, getting
+a bit fed-up, hoofed me out and got me a mastership at a school, and I
+made a hash of that. He got me one or two other jobs, and I made a hash
+of those."
+
+"You certainly do seem to be one of our most prominent young hashers!"
+gasped Sally.
+
+"I am," said Ginger, modestly.
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"And what about Scrymgeour?" Sally asked.
+
+"That was the last of the jobs," said Ginger. "Scrymgeour is a pompous
+old ass who thinks he's going to be Prime Minister some day. He's a big
+bug at the Bar and has just got into Parliament. My cousin used to devil
+for him. That's how I got mixed up with the blighter."
+
+"Your cousin used...? I wish you would talk English."
+
+"That was my cousin who was with me on the beach this morning."
+
+"And what did you say he used to do for Mr. Scrymgeour?"
+
+"Oh, it's called devilling. My cousin's at the Bar, too--one of our
+rising nibs, as a matter of fact..."
+
+"I thought he was a lawyer of some kind."
+
+"He's got a long way beyond it now, but when he started he used to devil
+for Scrymgeour--assist him, don't you know. His name's Carmyle, you
+know. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's rather a prominent johnny in his
+way. Bruce Carmyle, you know."
+
+"I haven't."
+
+"Well, he got me this job of secretary to Scrymgeour."
+
+"And why did Mr. Scrymgeour fire you?"
+
+Ginger Kemp's face darkened. He frowned. Sally, watching him, felt that
+she had been right when she had guessed that he had a temper. She liked
+him none the worse for it. Mild men did not appeal to her.
+
+"I don't know if you're fond of dogs?" said Ginger.
+
+"I used to be before this morning," said Sally. "And I suppose I shall
+be again in time. For the moment I've had what you might call rather a
+surfeit of dogs. But aren't you straying from the point? I asked you why
+Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed you."
+
+"I'm telling you."
+
+"I'm glad of that. I didn't know."
+
+"The old brute," said Ginger, frowning again, "has a dog. A very jolly
+little spaniel. Great pal of mine. And Scrymgeour is the sort of fool
+who oughtn't to be allowed to own a dog. He's one of those asses who
+isn't fit to own a dog. As a matter of fact, of all the blighted,
+pompous, bullying, shrivelled-souled old devils..."
+
+"One moment," said Sally. "I'm getting an impression that you don't like
+Mr. Scrymgeour. Am I right?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"I thought so. Womanly intuition! Go on."
+
+"He used to insist on the poor animal doing tricks. I hate seeing a
+dog do tricks. Dogs loathe it, you know. They're frightfully sensitive.
+Well, Scrymgeour used to make this spaniel of his do tricks--fool-things
+that no self-respecting dogs would do: and eventually poor old Billy got
+fed up and jibbed. He was too polite to bite, but he sort of shook his
+head and crawled under a chair. You'd have thought anyone would have
+let it go at that, but would old Scrymgeour? Not a bit of it! Of all the
+poisonous..."
+
+"Yes, I know. Go on."
+
+"Well, the thing ended in the blighter hauling him out from under the
+chair and getting more and more shirty, until finally he laid into him
+with a stick. That is to say," said Ginger, coldly accurate, "he started
+laying into him with a stick." He brooded for a moment with knit brows.
+"A spaniel, mind you! Can you imagine anyone beating a spaniel? It's
+like hitting a little girl. Well, he's a fairly oldish man, you know,
+and that hampered me a bit: but I got hold of the stick and broke it
+into about eleven pieces, and by great good luck it was a stick he
+happened to value rather highly. It had a gold knob and had been
+presented to him by his constituents or something. I minced it up
+a goodish bit, and then I told him a fair amount about himself. And
+then--well, after that he shot me out, and I came here."
+
+Sally did not speak for a moment.
+
+"You were quite right," she said at last, in a sober voice that had
+nothing in it of her customary flippancy. She paused again. "And what
+are you going to do now?" she said.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You'll get something?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall get something, I suppose. The family will be pretty
+sick, of course."
+
+"For goodness' sake! Why do you bother about the family?" Sally burst
+out. She could not reconcile this young man's flabby dependence on his
+family with the enterprise and vigour which he had shown in his dealings
+with the unspeakable Scrymgeour. Of course, he had been brought up to
+look on himself as a rich man's son and appeared to have drifted as such
+young men are wont to do; but even so... "The whole trouble with you,"
+she said, embarking on a subject on which she held strong views, "is
+that..."
+
+Her harangue was interrupted by what--at the Normandie, at one o'clock
+in the morning--practically amounted to a miracle. The front door of
+the hotel opened, and there entered a young man in evening dress.
+Such persons were sufficiently rare at the Normandie, which catered
+principally for the staid and middle-aged, and this youth's presence was
+due, if one must pause to explain it, to the fact that, in the middle
+of his stay at Roville, a disastrous evening at the Casino had so
+diminished his funds that he had been obliged to make a hurried shift
+from the Hotel Splendide to the humbler Normandie. His late appearance
+to-night was caused by the fact that he had been attending a dance
+at the Splendide, principally in the hope of finding there some
+kind-hearted friend of his prosperity from whom he might borrow.
+
+A rapid-fire dialogue having taken place between Jules and the newcomer,
+the keys were handed through the cage, the door opened and the lift was
+set once more in motion. And a few minutes later, Sally, suddenly aware
+of an overpowering sleepiness, had switched off her light and jumped
+into bed. Her last waking thought was a regret that she had not been
+able to speak at length to Mr. Ginger Kemp on the subject of enterprise,
+and resolve that the address should be delivered at the earliest
+opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. THE DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+By six o'clock on the following evening, however, Sally had been forced
+to the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through life as
+best he could without the assistance of her contemplated remarks: for
+she had seen nothing of him all day and in another hour she would have
+left Roville on the seven-fifteen express which was to take her to
+Paris, en route for Cherbourg and the liner whereon she had booked her
+passage for New York.
+
+It was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,
+having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of
+an amiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale. She
+disliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted him. Like
+so many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a great degree
+the quality of interesting herself in--or, as her brother Fillmore
+preferred to put it, messing about with--the private affairs of others.
+Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom it was worth while to give a
+friendly shove on the right path; and it was with much gratification,
+therefore, that, having entered the Casino, she perceived a flaming
+head shining through the crowd which had gathered at one of the
+roulette-tables.
+
+There are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer. The one on the Promenade goes
+in mostly for sea-air and a mild game called boule. It is the big Casino
+Municipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway station which is
+the haunt of the earnest gambler who means business; and it was plain to
+Sally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not only meant business
+but was getting results. Ginger was going extremely strong. He was
+entrenched behind an opulent-looking mound of square counters: and, even
+as Sally looked, a wooden-faced croupier shoved a further instalment
+across the table to him at the end of his long rake.
+
+"Epatant!" murmured a wistful man at Sally's side, removing an elbow
+from her ribs in order the better to gesticulate. Sally, though no French
+scholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified. The entire crowd
+seemed to be startled and gratified. There is undoubtedly a
+certain altruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continental
+roulette-table. They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeing
+somebody else win.
+
+The croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheel
+a twist with his right, and silence fell again. Sally, who had shifted
+to a spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was now able
+to see Ginger's face, and as she saw it she gave an involuntary laugh.
+He looked exactly like a dog at a rat-hole. His hair seemed to bristle
+with excitement. One could almost fancy that his ears were pricked up.
+
+In the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of the
+wheel, Sally's laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness. It had a
+marked effect on all those within hearing. There is something almost of
+religious ecstasy in the deportment of the spectators at a table where
+anyone is having a run of luck at roulette, and if she had guffawed in
+a cathedral she could not have caused a more pained consternation. The
+earnest worshippers gazed at her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turning
+with a start, saw her and jumped up. As he did so, the ball fell with a
+rattling click into a red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased to
+revolve and it was seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrong
+colour, a shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that which
+convulses the penitents' bench at a negro revival meeting. More
+glances of reproach were cast at Sally. It was generally felt that her
+injudicious behaviour had changed Ginger's luck.
+
+The only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself.
+He gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his
+way to where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of the
+crowd as a pariah. There was universal regret that he had decided to
+call it a day. It was to the spectators as though a star had suddenly
+walked off the stage in the middle of his big scene; and not even a loud
+and violent quarrel which sprang up at this moment between two excitable
+gamblers over a disputed five-franc counter could wholly console them.
+
+"I say," said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd,
+"this is topping, meeting you like this. I've been looking for you
+everywhere."
+
+"It's funny you didn't find me, then, for that's where I've been. I was
+looking for you."
+
+"No, really?" Ginger seemed pleased. He led the way to the quiet
+ante-room outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner.
+It was pleasant here, with nobody near except the gorgeously uniformed
+attendant over by the door. "That was awfully good of you."
+
+"I felt I must have a talk with you before my train went."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"Your train? What do you mean?"
+
+"The puff-puff," explained Sally. "I'm leaving to-night, you know."
+
+"Leaving?" Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of the
+congregation of which Sally had just ceased to be a member. "You don't
+mean leaving? You're not going away from Roville?"
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why? Where are you going?"
+
+"Back to America. My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow."
+
+"Oh, my aunt!"
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally, touched by his concern. She was a warm-hearted
+girl and liked being appreciated. "But..."
+
+"I say..." Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him at
+the uniformed official, who was regarding their tete-a-tete with the
+indulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. "I
+say, look here, will you marry me?"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement. Ginger, she
+had realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but
+she had not expected him to be as surprising as this.
+
+"Marry you!"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+"Well, yes, I suppose I do. You allude to the holy state. Yes, I know
+what you mean."
+
+"Then how about it?"
+
+Sally began to regain her composure. Her sense of humour was tickled.
+She looked at Ginger gravely. He did not meet her eye, but continued to
+drink in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by
+the romance of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under his
+breath. The official could not hear what they were saying, and would not
+have been able to understand it even if he could have heard; but he was
+an expert in the language of the eyes.
+
+"But isn't this--don't think I am trying to make difficulties--isn't
+this a little sudden?"
+
+"It's got to be sudden," said Ginger Kemp, complainingly. "I thought you
+were going to be here for weeks."
+
+"But, my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practically
+strangers?" She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the uniformed
+official to heave a tender sigh. "I see what has happened," she said.
+"You're mistaking me for some other girl, some girl you know really
+well, and were properly introduced to. Take a good look at me, and
+you'll see."
+
+"If I take a good look at you," said Ginger, feverishly, "I'm dashed if
+I'll answer for the consequences."
+
+"And this is the man I was going to lecture on 'Enterprise.'"
+
+"You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, dash it!" said Ginger,
+his gaze still riveted on the official by the door "I dare say it is
+sudden. I can't help that. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,
+and there you are!"
+
+"But..."
+
+"Now, look here, I know I'm not much of a chap and all that, but...
+well, I've just won the deuce of a lot of money in there..."
+
+"Would you buy me with your gold?"
+
+"I mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I've
+made an infernal hash of everything I've tried up till now, but there
+must be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I'd have a
+goodish stab at it. I mean to say, with you to buck me up and so forth,
+don't you know. Well, I mean..."
+
+"Has it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?"
+
+"Oh, golly! Are you?"
+
+For the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in his
+eyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out of
+her. Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.
+
+"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am," she said soberly.
+
+Ginger Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.
+
+"Oh, well, that's torn it!" he said at last.
+
+Sally was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse. There was pity in
+it, but amusement too. The emotion, though she did not recognize it, was
+maternal. Mothers, listening to their children pleading with engaging
+absurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow, feel that
+same wavering between tears and laughter. Sally wanted to pick Ginger up
+and kiss him. The one thing she could not do was to look on him, sorry
+as she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.
+
+"You don't really mean it, you know."
+
+"Don't I!" said Ginger, hollowly. "Oh, don't I!"
+
+"You can't! There isn't such a thing in real life as love at first
+sight. Love's a thing that comes when you know a person well and..."
+She paused. It had just occurred to her that she was hardly the girl to
+lecture in this strain. Her love for Gerald Foster had been sufficiently
+sudden, even instantaneous. What did she know of Gerald except that
+she loved him? They had become engaged within two weeks of their first
+meeting. She found this recollection damping to her eloquence, and ended
+by saying tamely:
+
+"It's ridiculous."
+
+Ginger had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.
+
+"I couldn't have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway," he
+said, sombrely. "I'm not much of a chap."
+
+It was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sally
+had been longing to find. She welcomed the chance of continuing the
+conversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.
+
+"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, seizing
+the opportunity offered by this display of humility. "I've been looking
+for you all day to go on with what I was starting to say in the lift
+last night when we were interrupted. Do you mind if I talk to you like
+an aunt--or a sister, suppose we say? Really, the best plan would be for
+you to adopt me as an honorary sister. What do you think?"
+
+Ginger did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.
+
+"Because I really do take a tremendous interest in you."
+
+Ginger brightened. "That's awfully good of you."
+
+"I'm going to speak words of wisdom. Ginger, why don't you brace up?"
+
+"Brace up?"
+
+"Yes, stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square your
+elbows, and really amount to something. Why do you simply flop about and
+do nothing and leave everything to what you call 'the family'? Why do
+you have to be helped all the time? Why don't you help yourself? Why do
+you have to have jobs found for you? Why don't you rush out and get one?
+Why do you have to worry about what, 'the family' thinks of you? Why
+don't you make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck,
+suddenly finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens,
+everybody else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke at
+one time or another. It's part of the fun. You'll never get anywhere
+by letting yourself be picked up by the family like... like a floppy
+Newfoundland puppy and dumped down in any old place that happens to
+suit them. A job's a thing you've got to choose for yourself and get for
+yourself. Think what you can do--there must be something--and then go
+at it with a snort and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take
+a joke. You've managed to collect some money. It will give you time
+to look round. And, when you've had a look round, do something! Try to
+realize you're alive, and try to imagine the family isn't!"
+
+Sally stopped and drew a deep breath. Ginger Kemp did not reply for a
+moment. He seemed greatly impressed.
+
+"When you talk quick," he said at length, in a serious meditative voice,
+"your nose sort of goes all squiggly. Ripping, it looks!"
+
+Sally uttered an indignant cry.
+
+"Do you mean to say you haven't been listening to a word I've been
+saying," she demanded.
+
+"Oh, rather! Oh, by Jove, yes."
+
+"Well, what did I say?"
+
+"You... er... And your eyes sort of shine, too."
+
+"Never mind my eyes. What did I say?"
+
+"You told me," said Ginger, on reflection, "to get a job."
+
+"Well, yes. I put it much better than that, but that's what it amounted
+to, I suppose. All right, then. I'm glad you..."
+
+Ginger was eyeing her with mournful devotion. "I say," he interrupted,
+"I wish you'd let me write to you. Letters, I mean, and all that. I have
+an idea it would kind of buck me up."
+
+"You won't have time for writing letters."
+
+"I'll have time to write them to you. You haven't an address or anything
+of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, so that I'd
+know where to write to."
+
+"I can give you an address which will always find me." She told him the
+number and street of Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house, and he wrote them
+down reverently on his shirt-cuff. "Yes, on second thoughts, do write,"
+she said. "Of course, I shall want to know how you've got on. I... oh,
+my goodness! That clock's not right?"
+
+"Just about. What time does your train go?"
+
+"Go! It's gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds." She made a
+rush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed official who
+had not been expecting this sudden activity. "Good-bye, Ginger. Write to
+me, and remember what I said."
+
+Ginger, alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question
+of physical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and they
+emerged together and started running down the square.
+
+"Stick it!" said Ginger, encouragingly. He was running easily and well,
+as becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his international
+at scrum-half.
+
+Sally saved her breath. The train was beginning to move slowly out of
+the station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform. Ginger dived
+for the nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in his
+arms, and flung her in. She landed squarely on the toes of a man who
+occupied the corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the window.
+Ginger, faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train as it
+gathered speed.
+
+"Ginger! My poor porter! Tip him. I forgot."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"And don't forget what I've been saying."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"Look after yourself and 'Death to the Family!'"
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+The train passed smoothly out of the station. Sally cast one last look
+back at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving a
+handkerchief. Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of the
+carriage.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said, breathlessly. "I hope I didn't hurt you."
+
+She found herself facing Ginger's cousin, the dark man of yesterday's
+episode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed
+by life's little surprises, but at the present moment he could not help
+feeling slightly dazed. He recognized Sally now as the French girl who
+had attracted his cousin Lancelot's notice on the beach. At least he had
+assumed that she was French, and it was startling to be addressed by
+her now in fluent English. How had she suddenly acquired this gift of
+tongues? And how on earth had she had time since yesterday, when he
+had been a total stranger to her, to become sufficiently intimate with
+Cousin Lancelot to be sprinting with him down station platforms and
+addressing him out of railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmyle
+was aware that most members of that sub-species of humanity, his
+cousin's personal friends, called him by that familiar--and, so Carmyle
+held, vulgar--nickname: but how had this girl got hold of it?
+
+If Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly have looked
+disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid sense of the
+proprieties a nasty jar. But as, panting and flushed from her run, she
+was prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived to smile.
+
+"Not at all," he said in answer to her question, though it was far from
+the truth. His left big toe was aching confoundedly. Even a girl with
+a foot as small as Sally's can make her presence felt on a man's toe if
+the scrum-half who is handling her aims well and uses plenty of vigour.
+
+"If you don't mind," said Sally, sitting down, "I think I'll breathe a
+little."
+
+She breathed. The train sped on.
+
+"Quite a close thing," said Bruce Carmyle, affably. The pain in his toe
+was diminishing. "You nearly missed it."
+
+"Yes. It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me. He throws very straight,
+doesn't he."
+
+"Tell me," said Carmyle, "how do you come to know my Cousin? On the
+beach yesterday morning..."
+
+"Oh, we didn't know each other then. But we were staying at the same
+hotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator together. That
+was when we really got acquainted."
+
+A waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English that
+dinner was served in the restaurant car. "Would you care for dinner?"
+
+"I'm starving," said Sally.
+
+She reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, for
+being so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance. This man was
+perfectly pleasant in spite of his grim exterior. She had decided by the
+time they had seated themselves at the table she liked him.
+
+At the table, however, Mr. Carmyle's manner changed for the worse. He
+lost his amiability. He was evidently a man who took his meals seriously
+and believed in treating waiters with severity. He shuddered austerely
+at a stain on the table-cloth, and then concentrated himself frowningly
+on the bill of fare. Sally, meanwhile, was establishing cosy relations
+with the much too friendly waiter, a cheerful old man who from the start
+seemed to have made up his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter.
+The waiter talked no English and Sally no French, but they were getting
+along capitally, when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving aside
+the servitor's light-hearted advice--at the Hotel Splendide the waiters
+never bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side of
+your face--gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of the
+travelling Briton. The waiter remarked, "Boum!" in a pleased sort of
+way, and vanished.
+
+"Nice old man!" said Sally.
+
+"Infernally familiar!" said Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Sally perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did not
+see eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived from
+any discussion centring about him. She changed the subject. She was not
+liking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few minutes ago, but
+it was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she tried to like him as
+much as she could.
+
+"By the way," she said, "my name is Nicholas. I always think it's a good
+thing to start with names, don't you?"
+
+"Mine..."
+
+"Oh, I know yours. Ginger--Mr. Kemp told me."
+
+Mr. Carmyle, who since the waiter's departure, had been thawing,
+stiffened again at the mention of Ginger.
+
+"Indeed?" he said, coldly. "Apparently you got intimate."
+
+Sally did not like his tone. He seemed to be criticizing her, and she
+resented criticism from a stranger. Her eyes opened wide and she looked
+dangerously across the table.
+
+"Why 'apparently'? I told you that we had got intimate, and I explained
+how. You can't stay shut up in an elevator half the night with anybody
+without getting to know him. I found Mr. Kemp very pleasant."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"And very interesting."
+
+Mr. Carmyle raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Would you call him interesting?"
+
+"I did call him interesting." Sally was beginning to feel the
+exhilaration of battle. Men usually made themselves extremely agreeable
+to her, and she reacted belligerently under the stiff unfriendliness
+which had come over her companion in the last few minutes.
+
+"He told me all about himself."
+
+"And you found that interesting?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well..." A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle's dark
+face. "My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt--he used to
+play football well, and I understand that he is a capable amateur
+pugilist--but I should not have supposed him entertaining. We find him a
+little dull."
+
+"I thought it was only royalty that called themselves 'we.'"
+
+"I meant myself--and the rest of the family."
+
+The mention of the family was too much for Sally. She had to stop
+talking in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.
+
+"Mr. Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour," she went on at length.
+
+Bruce Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French bread
+which the waiter had placed on the table.
+
+"Indeed?" he said. "He has an engaging lack of reticence."
+
+The waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.
+
+"V'la!" he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who has
+successfully performed a difficult conjuring trick. He smiled at Sally
+expectantly, as though confident of applause from this section of his
+audience at least. But Sally's face was set and rigid. She had been
+snubbed, and the sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.
+
+"I think Mr. Kemp had hard luck," she said.
+
+"If you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter."
+
+Mr. Carmyle's attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but she
+was a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not to be
+discussed with strangers, however prepossessing.
+
+"He was quite in the right. Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog..."
+
+"I've heard the details."
+
+"Oh, I didn't know that. Well, don't you agree with me, then?"
+
+"I do not. A man who would throw away an excellent position simply
+because..."
+
+"Oh, well, if that's your view, I suppose it is useless to talk about
+it."
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Still, there's no harm in asking what you propose to do about
+Gin--about Mr. Kemp."
+
+Mr. Carmyle became more glacial.
+
+"I'm afraid I cannot discuss..."
+
+Sally's quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got the
+better of her.
+
+"Oh, for goodness' sake," she snapped, "do try to be human, and don't
+always be snubbing people. You remind me of one of those portraits of
+men in the eighteenth century, with wooden faces, who look out of
+heavy gold frames at you with fishy eyes as if you were a regrettable
+incident."
+
+"Rosbif," said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly beside
+them as if he had popped up out of a trap.
+
+Bruce Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely. Sally who was in the
+mood when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, but
+was full of battle at the moment, sat in silence.
+
+"I am sorry," said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, "if my eyes are fishy. The
+fact has not been called to my attention before."
+
+"I suppose you never had any sisters," said Sally. "They would have told
+you."
+
+Mr. Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till the
+waiter had brought the coffee.
+
+"I think," said Sally, getting up, "I'll be going now. I don't seem to
+want any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say something rude. I thought
+I might be able to put in a good word for Mr. Kemp and save him from
+being massacred, but apparently it's no use. Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, and
+thank you for giving me dinner."
+
+She made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle's indignant,
+yet fascinated, gaze. Strange emotions were stirring in Mr. Carmyle's
+bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD
+
+
+
+Some few days later, owing to the fact that the latter, being
+preoccupied, did not see him first, Bruce Carmyle met his cousin
+Lancelot in Piccadilly. They had returned by different routes from
+Roville, and Ginger would have preferred the separation to continue. He
+was hurrying on with a nod, when Carmyle stopped him.
+
+"Just the man I wanted to see," he observed.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" said Ginger, without joy.
+
+"I was thinking of calling at your club."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes. Cigarette?"
+
+Ginger peered at the proffered case with the vague suspicion of the man
+who has allowed himself to be lured on to the platform and is accepting
+a card from the conjurer. He felt bewildered. In all the years of their
+acquaintance he could not recall another such exhibition of geniality on
+his cousin's part. He was surprised, indeed, at Mr. Carmyle's speaking
+to him at all, for the affaire Scrymgeour remained an un-healed wound,
+and the Family, Ginger knew, were even now in session upon it.
+
+"Been back in London long?"
+
+"Day or two."
+
+"I heard quite by accident that you had returned and that you were
+staying at the club. By the way, thank you for introducing me to Miss
+Nicholas."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"What!"
+
+"I was in that compartment, you know, at Roville Station. You threw
+her right on top of me. We agreed to consider that an introduction. An
+attractive girl."
+
+Bruce Carmyle had not entirely made up his mind regarding Sally, but on
+one point he was clear, that she should not, if he could help it, pass
+out of his life. Her abrupt departure had left him with that baffled and
+dissatisfied feeling which, though it has little in common with love at
+first sight, frequently produces the same effects. She had had, he could
+not disguise it from himself, the better of their late encounter and he
+was conscious of a desire to meet her again and show her that there was
+more in him than she apparently supposed. Bruce Carmyle, in a word,
+was piqued: and, though he could not quite decide whether he liked or
+disliked Sally, he was very sure that a future without her would have an
+element of flatness.
+
+"A very attractive girl. We had a very pleasant talk."
+
+"I bet you did," said Ginger enviously.
+
+"By the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?"
+
+"Why?" said Ginger suspiciously. His attitude towards Sally's address
+resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique work
+of art. He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.
+
+"Well, I--er--I promised to send her some books she was anxious to
+read..."
+
+"I shouldn't think she gets much time for reading."
+
+"Books which are not published in America."
+
+"Oh, pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to
+be, I mean."
+
+"Well, these particular books are not," said Mr. Carmyle shortly. He was
+finding Ginger's reserve a little trying, and wished that he had been
+more inventive.
+
+"Give them to me and I'll send them to her," suggested Ginger.
+
+"Good Lord, man!" snapped Mr. Carmyle. "I'm capable of sending a few
+books to America. Where does she live?"
+
+Ginger revealed the sacred number of the holy street which had the luck
+to be Sally's headquarters. He did it because with a persistent devil
+like his cousin there seemed no way of getting out of it: but he did it
+grudgingly.
+
+"Thanks." Bruce Carmyle wrote the information down with a gold pencil
+in a dapper little morocco-bound note-book. He was the sort of man who
+always has a pencil, and the backs of old envelopes never enter into his
+life.
+
+There was a pause. Bruce Carmyle coughed.
+
+"I saw Uncle Donald this morning," he said.
+
+His manner had lost its geniality. There was no need for it now, and he
+was a man who objected to waste. He spoke coldly, and in his voice there
+was a familiar sub-tingle of reproof.
+
+"Yes?" said Ginger moodily. This was the uncle in whose office he
+had made his debut as a hasher: a worthy man, highly respected in the
+National Liberal Club, but never a favourite of Ginger's. There were
+other minor uncles and a few subsidiary aunts who went to make up the
+Family, but Uncle Donald was unquestionably the managing director of
+that body and it was Ginger's considered opinion that in this capacity
+he approximated to a human blister.
+
+"He wants you to dine with him to-night at Bleke's."
+
+Ginger's depression deepened. A dinner with Uncle Donald would hardly
+have been a cheerful function, even in the surroundings of a banquet
+in the Arabian Nights. There was that about Uncle Donald's personality
+which would have cast a sobering influence over the orgies of the
+Emperor Tiberius at Capri. To dine with him at a morgue like that
+relic of Old London, Bleke's Coffee House, which confined its custom
+principally to regular patrons who had not missed an evening there for
+half a century, was to touch something very near bed-rock. Ginger was
+extremely doubtful whether flesh and blood were equal to it.
+
+"To-night?" he said. "Oh, you mean to-night? Well..."
+
+"Don't be a fool. You know as well as I do that you've got to go."
+Uncle Donald's invitations were royal commands in the Family. "If you've
+another engagement you must put it off."
+
+"Oh, all right."
+
+"Seven-thirty sharp."
+
+"All right," said Ginger gloomily.
+
+The two men went their ways, Bruce Carmyle eastwards because he had
+clients to see in his chambers at the Temple; Ginger westwards because
+Mr. Carmyle had gone east. There was little sympathy between these
+cousins: yet, oddly enough, their thoughts as they walked centred on the
+same object. Bruce Carmyle, threading his way briskly through the crowds
+of Piccadilly Circus, was thinking of Sally: and so was Ginger as he
+loafed aimlessly towards Hyde Park Corner, bumping in a sort of coma
+from pedestrian to pedestrian.
+
+Since his return to London Ginger had been in bad shape. He mooned
+through the days and slept poorly at night. If there is one thing
+rottener than another in a pretty blighted world, one thing which gives
+a fellow the pip and reduces him to the condition of an absolute onion,
+it is hopeless love. Hopeless love had got Ginger all stirred up. His
+had been hitherto a placid soul. Even the financial crash which had so
+altered his life had not bruised him very deeply. His temperament had
+enabled him to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with
+a philosophic "Right ho!" But now everything seemed different. Things
+irritated him acutely, which before he had accepted as inevitable--his
+Uncle Donald's moustache, for instance, and its owner's habit of
+employing it during meals as a sort of zareba or earthwork against the
+assaults of soup.
+
+"By gad!" thought Ginger, stopping suddenly opposite Devonshire House.
+"If he uses that damned shrubbery as soup-strainer to-night, I'll slosh
+him with a fork!"
+
+Hard thoughts... hard thoughts! And getting harder all the time, for
+nothing grows more quickly than a mood of rebellion. Rebellion is a
+forest fire that flames across the soul. The spark had been lighted in
+Ginger, and long before he reached Hyde Park Corner he was ablaze and
+crackling. By the time he returned to his club he was practically a
+menace to society--to that section of it, at any rate, which embraced
+his Uncle Donald, his minor uncles George and William, and his aunts
+Mary, Geraldine, and Louise.
+
+Nor had the mood passed when he began to dress for the dismal
+festivities of Bleke's Coffee House. He scowled as he struggled morosely
+with an obstinate tie. One cannot disguise the fact--Ginger was warming
+up. And it was just at this moment that Fate, as though it had been
+waiting for the psychological instant, applied the finishing touch.
+There was a knock at the door, and a waiter came in with a telegram.
+
+Ginger looked at the envelope. It had been readdressed and forwarded
+on from the Hotel Normandie. It was a wireless, handed in on board the
+White Star liner Olympic, and it ran as follows:
+
+Remember. Death to the Family. S.
+
+Ginger sat down heavily on the bed.
+
+The driver of the taxi-cab which at twenty-five minutes past seven drew
+up at the dingy door of Bleke's Coffee House in the Strand was rather
+struck by his fare's manner and appearance. A determined-looking sort of
+young bloke, was the taxi-driver's verdict.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. SALLY HEARS NEWS
+
+
+
+It had been Sally's intention, on arriving in New York, to take a room
+at the St. Regis and revel in the gilded luxury to which her wealth
+entitled her before moving into the small but comfortable apartment
+which, as soon as she had the time, she intended to find and make her
+permanent abode. But when the moment came and she was giving directions
+to the taxi-driver at the dock, there seemed to her something
+revoltingly Fillmorian about the scheme. It would be time enough to
+sever herself from the boarding-house which had been her home for three
+years when she had found the apartment. Meanwhile, the decent thing to
+do, if she did not want to brand herself in the sight of her conscience
+as a female Fillmore, was to go back temporarily to Mrs. Meecher's
+admirable establishment and foregather with her old friends. After all,
+home is where the heart is, even if there are more prunes there than the
+gourmet would consider judicious.
+
+Perhaps it was the unavoidable complacency induced by the thought
+that she was doing the right thing, or possibly it was the tingling
+expectation of meeting Gerald Foster again after all these weeks of
+separation, that made the familiar streets seem wonderfully bright as
+she drove through them. It was a perfect, crisp New York morning, all
+blue sky and amber sunshine, and even the ash-cans had a stimulating
+look about them. The street cars were full of happy people rollicking
+off to work: policemen directed the traffic with jaunty affability:
+and the white-clad street-cleaners went about their poetic tasks with a
+quiet but none the less noticeable relish. It was improbable that any of
+these people knew that she was back, but somehow they all seemed to be
+behaving as though this were a special day.
+
+The first discordant note in this overture of happiness was struck by
+Mrs. Meecher, who informed Sally, after expressing her gratification
+at the news that she required her old room, that Gerald Foster had left
+town that morning.
+
+"Gone to Detroit, he has," said Mrs. Meecher. "Miss Doland, too." She
+broke off to speak a caustic word to the boarding-house handyman,
+who, with Sally's trunk as a weapon, was depreciating the value of the
+wall-paper in the hall. "There's that play of his being tried out there,
+you know, Monday," resumed Mrs. Meecher, after the handyman had bumped
+his way up the staircase. "They been rehearsing ever since you left."
+
+Sally was disappointed, but it was such a beautiful morning, and New
+York was so wonderful after the dull voyage in the liner that she was
+not going to allow herself to be depressed without good reason. After
+all, she could go on to Detroit tomorrow. It was nice to have something
+to which she could look forward.
+
+"Oh, is Elsa in the company?" she said.
+
+"Sure. And very good too, I hear." Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of
+theatrical gossip. She was an ex-member of the profession herself,
+having been in the first production of "Florodora," though, unlike
+everybody else, not one of the original Sextette. "Mr. Faucitt was down
+to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy
+to please, as you know."
+
+"How is Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+Mrs. Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
+tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
+Sally's uplifted mood.
+
+"Poor old gentleman, he ain't over and above well. Went to bed early
+last night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he
+don't look well. There's a lot of this Spanish influenza about. It might
+be that. Lots o' people have been dying of it, if you believe what you
+see in the papers," said Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.
+
+"Good gracious! You don't think...?"
+
+"Well, he ain't turned black," admitted Mrs. Meecher with regret. "They
+say they turn black. If you believe what you see in the papers, that is.
+Of course, that may come later," she added with the air of one confident
+that all will come right in the future. "The doctor'll be in to see him
+pretty soon. He's quite happy. Toto's sitting with him."
+
+Sally's concern increased. Like everyone who had ever spent any length
+of time in the house, she had strong views on Toto. This quadruped, who
+stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a
+small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to bear
+with equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range of a
+sick man. Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt. Mrs. Meecher, on the other
+hand, who held a faith in her little pet's amiability and power to
+soothe which seven years' close association had been unable to shake,
+seemed to feel that, with Toto on the spot, all that could be done had
+been done as far as pampering the invalid was concerned.
+
+"I must go up and see him," cried Sally. "Poor old dear."
+
+"Sure. You know his room. You can hear Toto talking to him now," said
+Mrs. Meecher complacently. "He wants a cracker, that's what he wants.
+Toto likes a cracker after breakfast."
+
+The invalid's eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to the
+door. At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous rapture.
+Almost any intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at that moment,
+for his little playmate had long outstayed any welcome that might
+originally have been his: but that the caller should be his beloved
+Sally seemed to the old man something in the nature of a return of the
+age of miracles.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+"One moment. Here, Toto!"
+
+Toto, struck momentarily dumb by the sight of food, had jumped off the
+bed and was standing with his head on one side, peering questioningly at
+the cracker. He was a suspicious dog, but he allowed himself to be lured
+into the passage, upon which Sally threw the cracker down and slipped
+in and shut the door. Toto, after a couple of yaps, which may have been
+gratitude or baffled fury, trotted off downstairs, and Mr. Faucitt drew
+a deep breath.
+
+"Sally, you come, as ever, as an angel of mercy. Our worthy Mrs. Meecher
+means well, and I yield to no man in my respect for her innate kindness
+of heart: but she errs in supposing that that thrice-damned whelp of
+hers is a combination of sick-nurse, soothing medicine, and a week at
+the seaside. She insisted on bringing him here. He was yapping then, as
+he was yapping when, with womanly resource which I cannot sufficiently
+praise, you decoyed him hence. And each yap went through me like
+hammer-strokes on sheeted tin. Sally, you stand alone among womankind.
+You shine like a good deed in a naughty world. When did you get back?"
+
+"I've only just arrived in my hired barouche from the pier."
+
+"And you came to see your old friend without delay? I am grateful and
+flattered. Sally, my dear."
+
+"Of course I came to see you. Do you suppose that, when Mrs. Meecher
+told me you were sick, I just said 'Is that so?' and went on talking
+about the weather? Well, what do you mean by it? Frightening everybody.
+Poor old darling, do you feel very bad?"
+
+"One thousand individual mice are nibbling the base of my spine, and
+I am conscious of a constant need of cooling refreshment. But what of
+that? Your presence is a tonic. Tell me, how did our Sally enjoy foreign
+travel?"
+
+"Our Sally had the time of her life."
+
+"Did you visit England?"
+
+"Only passing through."
+
+"How did it look?" asked Mr. Faucitt eagerly.
+
+"Moist. Very moist."
+
+"It would," said Mr. Faucitt indulgently. "I confess that, happy as I
+have been in this country, there are times when I miss those wonderful
+London days, when a sort of cosy brown mist hangs over the streets and
+the pavements ooze with a perspiration of mud and water, and you see
+through the haze the yellow glow of the Bodega lamps shining in the
+distance like harbour-lights. Not," said Mr. Faucitt, "that I specify
+the Bodega to the exclusion of other and equally worthy hostelries. I
+have passed just as pleasant hours in Rule's and Short's. You missed
+something by not lingering in England, Sally."
+
+"I know I did--pneumonia."
+
+Mr. Faucitt shook his head reproachfully.
+
+"You are prejudiced, my dear. You would have enjoyed London if you had
+had the courage to brave its superficial gloom. Where did you spend your
+holiday? Paris?"
+
+"Part of the time. And the rest of the while I was down by the sea. It
+was glorious. I don't think I would ever have come back if I hadn't had
+to. But, of course, I wanted to see you all again. And I wanted to be at
+the opening of Mr. Foster's play. Mrs. Meecher tells me you went to one
+of the rehearsals."
+
+"I attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal," said Mr.
+Faucitt severely. "There is no rehearsing nowadays."
+
+"Oh dear! Was it as bad as all that?"
+
+"The play is good. The play--I will go further--is excellent. It has
+fat. But the acting..."
+
+"Mrs. Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good."
+
+"Our worthy hostess did not misreport me. Miss Doland has great
+possibilities. She reminds me somewhat of Matilda Devine, under whose
+banner I played a season at the Old Royalty in London many years ago.
+She has the seeds of greatness in her, but she is wasted in the present
+case on an insignificant part. There is only one part in the play. I
+allude to the one murdered by Miss Mabel Hobson."
+
+"Murdered!" Sally's heart sank. She had been afraid of this, and it
+was no satisfaction to feel that she had warned Gerald. "Is she very
+terrible?"
+
+"She has the face of an angel and the histrionic ability of that curious
+suet pudding which our estimable Mrs. Meecher is apt to give us on
+Fridays. In my professional career I have seen many cases of what I may
+term the Lady Friend in the role of star, but Miss Hobson eclipses them
+all. I remember in the year '94 a certain scion of the plutocracy
+took it into his head to present a female for whom he had conceived an
+admiration in a part which would have taxed the resources of the ablest.
+I was engaged in her support, and at the first rehearsal I recollect
+saying to my dear old friend, Arthur Moseby--dead, alas, these many
+years. An excellent juvenile, but, like so many good fellows, cursed
+with a tendency to lift the elbow--I recollect saying to him 'Arthur,
+dear boy, I give it two weeks.' 'Max,' was his reply, 'you are an
+incurable optimist. One consecutive night, laddie, one consecutive
+night.' We had, I recall, an even half-crown upon it. He won. We opened
+at Wigan, our leading lady got the bird, and the show closed next day.
+I was forcibly reminded of this incident as I watched Miss Hobson
+rehearsing."
+
+"Oh, poor Ger--poor Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I do not share your commiseration for that young man," said Mr. Faucitt
+austerely. "You probably are almost a stranger to him, but he and I have
+been thrown together a good deal of late. A young man upon whom, mark my
+words, success, if it ever comes, will have the worst effects. I dislike
+him. Sally. He is, I think, without exception, the most selfish and
+self-centred young man of my acquaintance. He reminds me very much
+of old Billy Fothergill, with whom I toured a good deal in the later
+eighties. Did I ever tell you the story of Billy and the amateur
+who...?"
+
+Sally was in no mood to listen to the adventures of Mr. Fothergill.
+The old man's innocent criticism of Gerald had stabbed her deeply. A
+momentary impulse to speak hotly in his defence died away as she saw
+Mr. Faucitt's pale, worn old face. He had meant no harm, after all. How
+could he know what Gerald was to her?
+
+She changed the conversation abruptly.
+
+"Have you seen anything of Fillmore while I've been away?"
+
+"Fillmore? Why yes, my dear, curiously enough I happened to run into him
+on Broadway only a few days ago. He seemed changed--less stiff and aloof
+than he had been for some time past. I may be wronging him, but there
+have been times of late when one might almost have fancied him a trifle
+up-stage. All that was gone at our last encounter. He appeared glad to
+see me and was most cordial."
+
+Sally found her composure restored. Her lecture on the night of the
+party had evidently, she thought, not been wasted. Mr. Faucitt, however,
+advanced another theory to account for the change in the Man of Destiny.
+
+"I rather fancy," he said, "that the softening influence has been the
+young man's fiancee."
+
+"What? Fillmore's not engaged?"
+
+"Did he not write and tell you? I suppose he was waiting to inform you
+when you returned. Yes, Fillmore is betrothed. The lady was with
+him when we met. A Miss Winch. In the profession, I understand. He
+introduced me. A very charming and sensible young lady, I thought."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"She can't be. Fillmore would never have got engaged to anyone like
+that. Was her hair crimson?"
+
+"Brown, if I recollect rightly."
+
+"Very loud, I suppose, and overdressed?"
+
+"On the contrary, neat and quiet."
+
+"You've made a mistake," said Sally decidedly. "She can't have been like
+that. I shall have to look into this. It does seem hard that I can't go
+away for a few weeks without all my friends taking to beds of sickness
+and all my brothers getting ensnared by vampires."
+
+A knock at the door interrupted her complaint. Mrs. Meecher entered,
+ushering in a pleasant little man with spectacles and black bag.
+
+"The doctor to see you, Mr. Faucitt." Mrs. Meecher cast an appraising
+eye at the invalid, as if to detect symptoms of approaching
+discoloration. "I've been telling him that what I think you've gotten is
+this here new Spanish influenza. Two more deaths there were in the paper
+this morning, if you can believe what you see..."
+
+"I wonder," said the doctor, "if you would mind going and bringing me a
+small glass of water?"
+
+"Why, sure."
+
+"Not a large glass--a small glass. Just let the tap run for a few
+moments and take care not to spill any as you come up the stairs. I
+always ask ladies, like our friend who has just gone," he added as the
+door closed, "to bring me a glass of water. It keeps them amused and
+interested and gets them out of the way, and they think I am going to do
+a conjuring trick with it. As a matter of fact, I'm going to drink it.
+Now let's have a look at you."
+
+The examination did not take long. At the end of it the doctor seemed
+somewhat chagrined.
+
+"Our good friend's diagnosis was correct. I'd give a leg to say it
+wasn't, but it was. It is this here new Spanish influenza. Not a bad
+attack. You want to stay in bed and keep warm, and I'll write you out a
+prescription. You ought to be nursed. Is this young lady a nurse?"
+
+"No, no, merely..."
+
+"Of course I'm a nurse," said Sally decidedly. "It isn't difficult,
+is it, doctor? I know nurses smooth pillows. I can do that. Is there
+anything else?"
+
+"Their principal duty is to sit here and prevent the excellent and
+garrulous lady who has just left us from getting in. They must also be
+able to aim straight with a book or an old shoe, if that small woolly
+dog I met downstairs tries to force an entrance. If you are equal to
+these tasks, I can leave the case in your hands with every confidence."
+
+"But, Sally, my dear," said Mr. Faucitt, concerned, "you must not waste
+your time looking after me. You have a thousand things to occupy you."
+
+"There's nothing I want to do more than help you to get better. I'll
+just go out and send a wire, and then I'll be right back."
+
+Five minutes later, Sally was in a Western Union office, telegraphing
+to Gerald that she would be unable to reach Detroit in time for the
+opening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. FIRST AID FOR FILLMORE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It was not till the following Friday that Sally was able to start for
+Detroit. She arrived on the Saturday morning and drove to the Hotel
+Statler. Having ascertained that Gerald was stopping in the hotel and
+having 'phoned up to his room to tell him to join her, she went into the
+dining-room and ordered breakfast.
+
+She felt low-spirited as she waited for the food to arrive. The nursing
+of Mr. Faucitt had left her tired, and she had not slept well on the
+train. But the real cause of her depression was the fact that there had
+been a lack of enthusiasm in Gerald's greeting over the telephone just
+now. He had spoken listlessly, as though the fact of her returning
+after all these weeks was a matter of no account, and she felt hurt and
+perplexed.
+
+A cup of coffee had a stimulating effect. Men, of course, were always
+like this in the early morning. It would, no doubt, be a very different
+Gerald who would presently bound into the dining-room, quickened and
+restored by a cold shower-bath. In the meantime, here was food, and she
+needed it.
+
+She was pouring out her second cup of coffee when a stout young man,
+of whom she had caught a glimpse as he moved about that section of the
+hotel lobby which was visible through the open door of the dining-room,
+came in and stood peering about as though in search of someone. The
+momentary sight she had had of this young man had interested Sally. She
+had thought how extraordinarily like he was to her brother Fillmore. Now
+she perceived that it was Fillmore himself.
+
+Sally was puzzled. What could Fillmore be doing so far west? She had
+supposed him to be a permanent resident of New York. But, of course,
+your man of affairs and vast interests flits about all over the place.
+At any rate, here he was, and she called him. And, after he had stood in
+the doorway looking in every direction except the right one for another
+minute, he saw her and came over to her table.
+
+"Why, Sally?" His manner, she thought, was nervous--one might almost
+have said embarrassed. She attributed this to a guilty conscience.
+Presently he would have to break to her the news that he had become
+engaged to be married without her sisterly sanction, and no doubt he was
+wondering how to begin. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in
+Europe."
+
+"I got back a week ago, but I've been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt ever
+since then. He's been ill, poor old dear. I've come here to see Mr.
+Foster's play, 'The Primrose Way,' you know. Is it a success?"
+
+"It hasn't opened yet."
+
+"Don't be silly, Fill. Do pull yourself together. It opened last
+Monday."
+
+"No, it didn't. Haven't you heard? They've closed all the theatres
+because of this infernal Spanish influenza. Nothing has been playing
+this week. You must have seen it in the papers."
+
+"I haven't had time to read the papers. Oh, Fill, what an awful shame!"
+
+"Yes, it's pretty tough. Makes the company all on edge. I've had the
+darndest time, I can tell you."
+
+"Why, what have you got to do with it?"
+
+Fillmore coughed.
+
+"I--er--oh, I didn't tell you that. I'm sort of--er--mixed up in the
+show. Cracknell--you remember he was at college with me--suggested that
+I should come down and look at it. Shouldn't wonder if he wants me to
+put money into it and so on."
+
+"I thought he had all the money in the world."
+
+"Yes, he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
+thing."
+
+"Is it a good thing?"
+
+"The play's fine."
+
+"That's what Mr. Faucitt said. But Mabel Hobson..."
+
+Fillmore's ample face registered emotion.
+
+"She's an awful woman, Sally! She can't act, and she throws her
+weight about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a
+paper-knife..."
+
+"How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?"
+
+"One of the props, you know. It got mislaid. I'm certain it wasn't my
+fault..."
+
+"How could it have been your fault?" asked Sally wonderingly. Love
+seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality.
+
+"Well--er--you know how it is. Angry woman... blames the first person
+she sees... This paper-knife..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off into pained silence.
+
+"Mr. Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good."
+
+"Oh, she's all right," said Fillmore indifferently. "But--" His face
+brightened and animation crept into his voice. "But the girl you want to
+watch is Miss Winch. Gladys Winch. She plays the maid. She's only in
+the first act, and hasn't much to say, except 'Did you ring, madam?' and
+things like that. But it's the way she says 'em! Sally, that girl's a
+genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark my
+words, in a darned little while you'll see her name up on Broadway in
+electric light. Personality? Ask me! Charm? She wrote the words and
+music! Looks?..."
+
+"All right! All right! I know all about it, Fill. And will you kindly
+inform me how you dared to get engaged without consulting me?"
+
+Fillmore blushed richly.
+
+"Oh, do you know?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Faucitt told me."
+
+"Well..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I'm only human," argued Fillmore.
+
+"I call that a very handsome admission. You've got quite modest, Fill."
+
+He had certainly changed for the better since their last meeting.
+
+It was as if someone had punctured him and let out all the pomposity.
+If this was due, as Mr. Faucitt had suggested, to the influence of Miss
+Winch, Sally felt that she could not but approve of the romance.
+
+"I'll introduce you sometime,' said Fillmore.
+
+"I want to meet her very much."
+
+"I'll have to be going now. I've got to see Bunbury. I thought he might
+be in here."
+
+"Who's Bunbury?"
+
+"The producer. I suppose he is breakfasting in his room. I'd better go
+up."
+
+"You are busy, aren't you. Little marvel! It's lucky they've got you to
+look after them."
+
+Fillmore retired and Sally settled down to wait for Gerald, no longer
+hurt by his manner over the telephone. Poor Gerald! No wonder he had
+seemed upset.
+
+A few minutes later he came in.
+
+"Oh, Jerry darling," said Sally, as he reached the table, "I'm so sorry.
+I've just been hearing about it."
+
+Gerald sat down. His appearance fulfilled the promise of his voice
+over the telephone. A sort of nervous dullness wrapped him about like a
+garment.
+
+"It's just my luck," he said gloomily. "It's the kind of thing that
+couldn't happen to anyone but me. Damned fools! Where's the sense in
+shutting the theatres, even if there is influenza about? They let people
+jam against one another all day in the stores. If that doesn't hurt them
+why should it hurt them to go to theatres? Besides, it's all infernal
+nonsense about this thing. I don't believe there is such a thing as
+Spanish influenza. People get colds in their heads and think they're
+dying. It's all a fake scare."
+
+"I don't think it's that," said Sally. "Poor Mr. Faucitt had it quite
+badly. That's why I couldn't come earlier."
+
+Gerald did not seem interested either by the news of Mr. Faucitt's
+illness or by the fact that Sally, after delay, had at last arrived. He
+dug a spoon sombrely into his grape-fruit.
+
+"We've been hanging about here day after day, getting bored to death
+all the time... The company's going all to pieces. They're sick of
+rehearsing and rehearsing when nobody knows if we'll ever open. They
+were all keyed up a week ago, and they've been sagging ever since. It
+will ruin the play, of course. My first chance! Just chucked away."
+
+Sally was listening with a growing feeling of desolation. She tried to
+be fair, to remember that he had had a terrible disappointment and was
+under a great strain. And yet... it was unfortunate that self-pity was a
+thing she particularly disliked in a man. Her vanity, too, was hurt. It
+was obvious that her arrival, so far from acting as a magic restorative,
+had effected nothing. She could not help remembering, though it made
+her feel disloyal, what Mr. Faucitt had said about Gerald. She had never
+noticed before that he was remarkably self-centred, but he was thrusting
+the fact upon her attention now.
+
+"That Hobson woman is beginning to make trouble," went on Gerald,
+prodding in a despairing sort of way at scrambled eggs. "She ought never
+to have had the part, never. She can't handle it. Elsa Doland could play
+it a thousand times better. I wrote Elsa in a few lines the other day,
+and the Hobson woman went right up in the air. You don't know what a
+star is till you've seen one of these promoted clothes-props from the
+Follies trying to be one. It took me an hour to talk her round and keep
+her from throwing up her part."
+
+"Why not let her throw up her part?"
+
+"For heaven's sake talk sense," said Gerald querulously. "Do you suppose
+that man Cracknell would keep the play on if she wasn't in it? He would
+close the show in a second, and where would I be then? You don't seem
+to realize that this is a big chance for me. I'd look a fool throwing it
+away."
+
+"I see," said Sally, shortly. She had never felt so wretched in her
+life. Foreign travel, she decided, was a mistake. It might be pleasant
+and broadening to the mind, but it seemed to put you so out of touch
+with people when you got back. She analysed her sensations, and arrived
+at the conclusion that what she was resenting was the fact that Gerald
+was trying to get the advantages of two attitudes simultaneously. A man
+in trouble may either be the captain of his soul and superior to pity,
+or he may be a broken thing for a woman to pet and comfort. Gerald,
+it seemed to her, was advertising himself as an object for her
+commiseration, and at the same time raising a barrier against it. He
+appeared to demand her sympathy while holding himself aloof from it. She
+had the uncomfortable sensation of feeling herself shut out and useless.
+
+"By the way," said Gerald, "there's one thing. I have to keep her
+jollying along all the time, so for goodness' sake don't go letting it
+out that we're engaged."
+
+Sally's chin went up with a jerk. This was too much.
+
+"If you find it a handicap being engaged to me..."
+
+"Don't be silly." Gerald took refuge in pathos. "Good God! It's tough!
+Here am I, worried to death, and you..."
+
+Before he could finish the sentence, Sally's mood had undergone one
+of those swift changes which sometimes made her feel that she must be
+lacking in character. A simple, comforting thought had come to her,
+altering her entire outlook. She had come off the train tired and
+gritty, and what seemed the general out-of-jointness of the world was
+entirely due, she decided, to the fact that she had not had a bath and
+that her hair was all anyhow. She felt suddenly tranquil. If it was
+merely her grubby and dishevelled condition that made Gerald seem to her
+so different, all was well. She put her hand on his with a quick gesture
+of penitence.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've been a brute, but I do sympathize,
+really."
+
+"I've had an awful time," mumbled Gerald.
+
+"I know, I know. But you never told me you were glad to see me."
+
+"Of course I'm glad to see you."
+
+"Why didn't you say so, then, you poor fish? And why didn't you ask me
+if I had enjoyed myself in Europe?"
+
+"Did you enjoy yourself?"
+
+"Yes, except that I missed you so much. There! Now we can consider my
+lecture on foreign travel finished, and you can go on telling me your
+troubles."
+
+Gerald accepted the invitation. He spoke at considerable length, though
+with little variety. It appeared definitely established in his mind that
+Providence had invented Spanish influenza purely with a view to wrecking
+his future. But now he seemed less aloof, more open to sympathy.
+The brief thunderstorm had cleared the air. Sally lost that sense of
+detachment and exclusion which had weighed upon her.
+
+"Well," said Gerald, at length, looking at his watch, "I suppose I had
+better be off."
+
+"Rehearsal?"
+
+"Yes, confound it. It's the only way of getting through the day. Are you
+coming along?"
+
+"I'll come directly I've unpacked and tidied myself up."
+
+"See you at the theatre, then."
+
+Sally went out and rang for the lift to take her up to her room.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The rehearsal had started when she reached the theatre. As she entered
+the dark auditorium, voices came to her with that thin and reedy effect
+which is produced by people talking in an empty building. She sat down
+at the back of the house, and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom,
+was able to see Gerald sitting in the front row beside a man with a bald
+head fringed with orange hair whom she took correctly to be Mr. Bunbury,
+the producer. Dotted about the house in ones and twos were members of
+the company whose presence was not required in the first act. On the
+stage, Elsa Doland, looking very attractive, was playing a scene with a
+man in a bowler hat. She was speaking a line, as Sally came in.
+
+"Why, what do you mean, father?"
+
+"Tiddly-omty-om," was the bowler-hatted one's surprising reply.
+"Tiddly-omty-om... long speech ending in 'find me in the library.' And
+exit," said the man in the bowler hat, starting to do so.
+
+For the first time Sally became aware of the atmosphere of nerves.
+Mr. Bunbury, who seemed to be a man of temperament, picked up his
+walking-stick, which was leaning against the next seat, and flung it
+with some violence across the house.
+
+"For God's sake!" said Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Now what?" inquired the bowler hat, interested, pausing hallway across
+the stage.
+
+"Do speak the lines, Teddy," exclaimed Gerald. "Don't skip them in that
+sloppy fashion."
+
+"You don't want me to go over the whole thing?" asked the bowler hat,
+amazed.
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Not the whole damn thing?" queried the bowler hat, fighting with
+incredulity.
+
+"This is a rehearsal," snapped Mr. Bunbury. "If we are not going to do
+it properly, what's the use of doing it at all?"
+
+This seemed to strike the erring Teddy, if not as reasonable, at any
+rate as one way of looking at it. He delivered the speech in an injured
+tone and shuffled off. The atmosphere of tenseness was unmistakable now.
+Sally could feel it. The world of the theatre is simply a large nursery
+and its inhabitants children who readily become fretful if anything goes
+wrong. The waiting and the uncertainty, the loafing about in strange
+hotels in a strange city, the dreary rehearsing of lines which had been
+polished to the last syllable more than a week ago--these things had
+sapped the nerve of the Primrose Way company and demoralization had set
+in. It would require only a trifle to produce an explosion.
+
+Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a
+magazine from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights.
+A moment later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be
+greeted instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Miss Winch!"
+
+The new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
+pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of
+genial indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse the
+children. She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking girl with
+a serious face, the gravity of which was contradicted by the faint smile
+that seemed to lurk about the corner of her mouth. She was certainly not
+pretty, and Sally, watching her with keen interest, was surprised that
+Fillmore had had the sense to disregard surface homeliness and recognize
+her charm. Deep down in Fillmore, Sally decided, there must lurk an
+unsuspected vein of intelligence.
+
+"Hello?" said Miss Winch, amiably.
+
+Mr. Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.
+
+"Miss Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum
+during rehearsal?"
+
+"That's right, so you did," admitted Miss Winch, chummily.
+
+"Then why are you doing it?"
+
+Fillmore's fiancee revolved the criticized refreshment about her tongue
+for a moment before replying.
+
+"Bit o' business," she announced, at length.
+
+"What do you mean, a bit of business?"
+
+"Character stuff," explained Miss Winch in her pleasant, drawling voice.
+"Thought it out myself. Maids chew gum, you know."
+
+Mr. Bunbury ruffled his orange hair in an over-wrought manner with the
+palm of his right hand.
+
+"Have you ever seen a maid?" he asked, despairingly.
+
+"Yes, sir. And they chew gum."
+
+"I mean a parlour-maid in a smart house," moaned Mr. Bunbury. "Do you
+imagine for a moment that in a house such as this is supposed to be the
+parlour-maid would be allowed to come into the drawing-room champing
+that disgusting, beastly stuff?"
+
+Miss Winch considered the point.
+
+"Maybe you're right." She brightened. "Listen! Great idea! Mr. Foster
+can write in a line for Elsa, calling me down, and another giving me
+a good come-back, and then another for Elsa saying something else, and
+then something really funny for me, and so on. We can work it up into a
+big comic scene. Five or six minutes, all laughs."
+
+This ingenious suggestion had the effect of depriving the producer
+momentarily of speech, and while he was struggling for utterance, there
+dashed out from the wings a gorgeous being in blue velvet and a hat of
+such unimpeachable smartness that Sally ached at the sight of it with a
+spasm of pure envy.
+
+"Say!"
+
+Miss Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which
+nature can bestow with the exception of a musical voice. Her figure was
+perfect, her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but her
+voice in moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.
+
+"Say, listen to me for just one moment!"
+
+Mr. Bunbury recovered from his trance.
+
+"Miss Hobson! Please!"
+
+"Yes, that's all very well..."
+
+"You are interrupting the rehearsal."
+
+"You bet your sorrowful existence I'm interrupting the rehearsal,"
+agreed Miss Hobson, with emphasis. "And, if you want to make a little
+easy money, you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I'm going to
+interrupt it again every time there's any talk of writing up any darned
+part in the show except mine. Write up other people's parts? Not while I
+have my strength!"
+
+A young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings in
+close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.
+
+"Now, sweetie!"
+
+"Oh, can it, Reggie!" said Miss Hobson, curtly.
+
+Mr. Cracknell obediently canned it. He was not one of your brutal
+cave-men. He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began to
+chew the knob of his stick.
+
+"I'm the star," resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, "and, if you think
+anybody else's part's going to be written up... well, pardon me while I
+choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable is written into anybody's
+part, I walk straight out on my two feet. You won't see me go, I'll be
+so quick."
+
+Mr. Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.
+
+"For heaven's sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating society?
+Miss Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody's part. Now are
+you satisfied?"
+
+"She said..."
+
+"Oh, never mind," observed Miss Winch, equably. "It was only a random
+thought. Working for the good of the show all the time. That's me."
+
+"Now, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like a
+tortoise.
+
+Miss Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.
+
+"Oh, well, that's all right, then. But don't forget I know how to look
+after myself," she said, stating a fact which was abundantly obvious to
+all who had had the privilege of listening to her. "Any raw work, and
+out I walk so quick it'll make you giddy."
+
+She retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.
+
+"Shall I say my big speech now?" inquired Miss Winch, over the
+footlights.
+
+"Yes, yes! Get on with the rehearsal. We've wasted half the morning."
+
+"Did you ring, madam?" said Miss Winch to Elsa, who had been reading her
+magazine placidly through the late scene.
+
+The rehearsal proceeded, and Sally watched it with a sinking heart. It
+was all wrong. Novice as she was in things theatrical, she could see
+that. There was no doubt that Miss Hobson was superbly beautiful and
+would have shed lustre on any part which involved the minimum of words
+and the maximum of clothes: but in the pivotal role of a serious play,
+her very physical attributes only served to emphasize and point her
+hopeless incapacity. Sally remembered Mr. Faucitt's story of the lady
+who got the bird at Wigan. She did not see how history could fail to
+repeat itself. The theatrical public of America will endure much from
+youth and beauty, but there is a limit.
+
+A shrill, passionate cry from the front row, and Mr. Bunbury was on his
+feet again. Sally could not help wondering whether things were going
+particularly wrong to-day, or whether this was one of Mr. Bunbury's
+ordinary mornings.
+
+"Miss Hobson!"
+
+The action of the drama had just brought that emotional lady on left
+centre and had taken her across to the desk which stood on the other
+side of the stage. The desk was an important feature of the play, for it
+symbolized the absorption in business which, exhibited by her husband,
+was rapidly breaking Miss Hobson's heart. He loved his desk better than
+his young wife, that was what it amounted to, and no wife can stand that
+sort of thing.
+
+"Oh, gee!" said Miss Hobson, ceasing to be the distressed wife and
+becoming the offended star. "What's it this time?"
+
+"I suggested at the last rehearsal and at the rehearsal before and
+the rehearsal before that, that, on that line, you, should pick up
+the paper-knife and toy negligently with it. You did it yesterday, and
+to-day you've forgotten it again."
+
+"My God!" cried Miss Hobson, wounded to the quick. "If this don't beat
+everything! How the heck can I toy negligently with a paper-knife when
+there's no paper-knife for me to toy negligently with?"
+
+"The paper-knife is on the desk."
+
+"It's not on the desk."
+
+"No paper-knife?"
+
+"No paper-knife. And it's no good picking on me. I'm the star, not the
+assistant stage manager. If you're going to pick on anybody, pick on
+him."
+
+The advice appeared to strike Mr. Bunbury as good. He threw back his
+head and bayed like a bloodhound.
+
+There was a momentary pause, and then from the wings on the prompt side
+there shambled out a stout and shrinking figure, in whose hand was a
+script of the play and on whose face, lit up by the footlights, there
+shone a look of apprehension. It was Fillmore, the Man of Destiny.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Alas, poor Fillmore! He stood in the middle of the stage with the
+lightning of Mr. Bunbury's wrath playing about his defenceless head, and
+Sally, recovering from her first astonishment, sent a wave of sisterly
+commiseration floating across the theatre to him. She did not often pity
+Fillmore. His was a nature which in the sunshine of prosperity had a
+tendency to grow a trifle lush; and such of the minor ills of life as
+had afflicted him during the past three years, had, she considered,
+been wholesome and educative and a matter not for concern but for
+congratulation. Unmoved, she had watched him through that lean period
+lunching on coffee and buckwheat cakes, and curbing from motives of
+economy a somewhat florid taste in dress. But this was different. This
+was tragedy. Somehow or other, blasting disaster must have smitten the
+Fillmore bank-roll, and he was back where he had started. His presence
+here this morning could mean nothing else.
+
+She recalled his words at the breakfast-table about financing the
+play. How like Fillmore to try to save his face for the moment with an
+outrageous bluff, though well aware that he would have to reveal the
+truth sooner or later. She realized how he must have felt when he had
+seen her at the hotel. Yes, she was sorry for Fillmore.
+
+And, as she listened to the fervent eloquence of Mr. Bunbury, she
+perceived that she had every reason to be. Fillmore was having a bad
+time. One of the chief articles of faith in the creed of all theatrical
+producers is that if anything goes wrong it must be the fault of the
+assistant stage manager and Mr. Bunbury was evidently orthodox in his
+views. He was showing oratorical gifts of no mean order. The paper-knife
+seemed to inspire him. Gradually, Sally began to get the feeling that
+this harmless, necessary stage-property was the source from which
+sprang most, if not all, of the trouble in the world. It had disappeared
+before. Now it had disappeared again. Could Mr. Bunbury go on struggling
+in a universe where this sort of thing happened? He seemed to doubt it.
+Being a red-blooded, one-hundred-per-cent American man, he would try
+hard, but it was a hundred to one shot that he would get through. He
+had asked for a paper-knife. There was no paper-knife. Why was there no
+paper-knife? Where was the paper-knife anyway?
+
+"I assure you, Mr. Bunbury," bleated the unhappy Fillmore, obsequiously.
+"I placed it with the rest of the properties after the last rehearsal."
+
+"You couldn't have done."
+
+"I assure you I did."
+
+"And it walked away, I suppose," said Miss Hobson with cold scorn,
+pausing in the operation of brightening up her lower lip with a
+lip-stick.
+
+A calm, clear voice spoke.
+
+"It was taken away," said the calm, clear voice.
+
+Miss Winch had added herself to the symposium. She stood beside
+Fillmore, chewing placidly. It took more than raised voices and
+gesticulating hands to disturb Miss Winch.
+
+"Miss Hobson took it," she went on in her cosy, drawling voice. "I saw
+her."
+
+Sensation in court. The prisoner, who seemed to feel his position
+deeply, cast a pop-eyed glance full of gratitude at his advocate.
+Mr. Bunbury, in his capacity of prosecuting attorney, ran his fingers
+through his hair in some embarrassment, for he was regretting now that
+he had made such a fuss. Miss Hobson thus assailed by an underling,
+spun round and dropped the lip-stick, which was neatly retrieved by the
+assiduous Mr. Cracknell. Mr. Cracknell had his limitations, but he was
+rather good at picking up lip-sticks.
+
+"What's that? I took it? I never did anything of the sort."
+
+"Miss Hobson took it after the rehearsal yesterday," drawled Gladys
+Winch, addressing the world in general, "and threw it negligently at the
+theatre cat."
+
+Miss Hobson seemed taken aback. Her composure was not restored by Mr.
+Bunbury's next remark. The producer, like his company, had been feeling
+the strain of the past few days, and, though as a rule he avoided
+anything in the nature of a clash with the temperamental star, this
+matter of the missing paper-knife had bitten so deeply into his soul
+that he felt compelled to speak his mind.
+
+"In future, Miss Hobson, I should be glad if, when you wish to throw
+anything at the cat, you would not select a missile from the property
+box. Good heavens!" he cried, stung by the way fate was maltreating
+him, "I have never experienced anything like this before. I have
+been producing plays all my life, and this is the first time this has
+happened. I have produced Nazimova. Nazimova never threw paper-knives at
+cats."
+
+"Well, I hate cats," said Miss Hobson, as though that settled it.
+
+"I," murmured Miss Winch, "love little pussy, her fur is so warm, and if
+I don't hurt her she'll do me no..."
+
+"Oh, my heavens!" shouted Gerald Foster, bounding from his seat and for
+the first time taking a share in the debate. "Are we going to spend the
+whole day arguing about cats and paper-knives? For goodness' sake, clear
+the stage and stop wasting time."
+
+Miss Hobson chose to regard this intervention as an affront.
+
+"Don't shout at me, Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I wasn't shouting at you."
+
+"If you have anything to say to me, lower your voice."
+
+"He can't," observed Miss Winch. "He's a tenor."
+
+"Nazimova never..." began Mr. Bunbury.
+
+Miss Hobson was not to be diverted from her theme by reminiscences of
+Nazimova. She had not finished dealing with Gerald.
+
+"In the shows I've been in," she said, mordantly, "the author wasn't
+allowed to go about the place getting fresh with the leading lady. In
+the shows I've been in the author sat at the back and spoke when he was
+spoken to. In the shows I've been in..."
+
+Sally was tingling all over. This reminded her of the dog-fight on the
+Roville sands. She wanted to be in it, and only the recognition that it
+was a private fight and that she would be intruding kept her silent. The
+lure of the fray, however, was too strong for her wholly to resist it.
+Almost unconsciously, she had risen from her place and drifted down the
+aisle so as to be nearer the white-hot centre of things. She was now
+standing in the lighted space by the orchestra-pit, and her presence
+attracted the roving attention of Miss Hobson, who, having concluded her
+remarks on authors and their legitimate sphere of activity, was looking
+about for some other object of attack.
+
+"Who the devil," inquired Miss Hobson, "is that?"
+
+Sally found herself an object of universal scrutiny and wished that she
+had remained in the obscurity of the back rows.
+
+"I am Mr. Nicholas' sister," was the best method of identification that
+she could find.
+
+"Who's Mr. Nicholas?"
+
+Fillmore timidly admitted that he was Mr. Nicholas. He did it in the
+manner of one in the dock pleading guilty to a major charge, and
+at least half of those present seemed surprised. To them, till now,
+Fillmore had been a nameless thing, answering to the shout of "Hi!"
+
+Miss Hobson received the information with a laugh of such exceeding
+bitterness that strong men blanched and Mr. Cracknell started so
+convulsively that he nearly jerked his collar off its stud.
+
+"Now, sweetie!" urged Mr. Cracknell.
+
+Miss Hobson said that Mr. Cracknell gave her a pain in the gizzard. She
+recommended his fading away, and he did so--into his collar. He seemed
+to feel that once well inside his collar he was "home" and safe from
+attack.
+
+"I'm through!" announced Miss Hobson. It appeared that Sally's presence
+had in some mysterious fashion fulfilled the function of the last straw.
+"This is the by-Goddest show I was ever in! I can stand for a whole lot,
+but when it comes to the assistant stage manager being allowed to fill
+the theatre with his sisters and his cousins and his aunts it's time to
+quit."
+
+"But, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, coming to the surface.
+
+"Oh, go and choke yourself!" said Miss Hobson, crisply. And, swinging
+round like a blue panther, she strode off. A door banged, and the sound
+of it seemed to restore Mr. Cracknell's power of movement. He, too, shot
+up stage and disappeared.
+
+"Hello, Sally," said Elsa Doland, looking up from her magazine. The
+battle, raging all round her, had failed to disturb her detachment.
+"When did you get back?"
+
+Sally trotted up the steps which had been propped against the stage to
+form a bridge over the orchestra pit.
+
+"Hello, Elsa."
+
+The late debaters had split into groups. Mr. Bunbury and Gerald were
+pacing up and down the central aisle, talking earnestly. Fillmore had
+subsided into a chair.
+
+"Do you know Gladys Winch?" asked Elsa.
+
+Sally shook hands with the placid lodestar of her brother's affections.
+Miss Winch, on closer inspection, proved to have deep grey eyes and
+freckles. Sally's liking for her increased.
+
+"Thank you for saving Fillmore from the wolves," she said. "They would
+have torn him in pieces but for you."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Winch.
+
+"It was noble."
+
+"Oh, well!"
+
+"I think," said Sally, "I'll go and have a talk with Fillmore. He looks
+as though he wanted consoling."
+
+She made her way to that picturesque ruin.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Fillmore had the air of a man who thought it wasn't loaded. A wild,
+startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he was
+breathing heavily.
+
+"Cheer up!" said Sally. Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly. "Tell me
+all," said Sally, sitting down beside him. "I leave you a gentleman of
+large and independent means, and I come back and find you one of the
+wage-slaves again. How did it all happen?"
+
+"Sally," said Fillmore, "I will be frank with you. Can you lend me ten
+dollars?"
+
+"I don't see how you make that out an answer to my question, but here
+you are."
+
+"Thanks." Fillmore pocketed the bill. "I'll let you have it back next
+week. I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch."
+
+"If that's what you want it for, don't look on it as a loan, take it as
+a gift with my blessing thrown in." She looked over her shoulder at
+Miss Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being temporarily suspended, was
+practising golf-shots with an umbrella at the other side of the stage.
+"However did you have the sense to fall in love with her, Fill?"
+
+"Do you like her?" asked Fillmore, brightening.
+
+"I love her."
+
+"I knew you would. She's just the right girl for me, isn't she?"
+
+"She certainly is."
+
+"So sympathetic."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So kind."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the
+girl who marries you will need."
+
+Fillmore drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting in
+a low chair can achieve.
+
+"Some day I will make you believe in me, Sally."
+
+"Less of the Merchant Prince, my lad," said Sally, firmly. "You just
+confine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of taking
+up my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the future. You've
+lost all your money?"
+
+"I have suffered certain reverses," said Fillmore, with dignity, "which
+have left me temporarily... Yes, every bean," he concluded simply.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well..." Fillmore hesitated. "I've had bad luck, you know. First I
+bought Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell. So that went
+wrong."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose. So that
+went wrong."
+
+"Good gracious! Why, I've heard all this before."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"No, I remember now. It's just that you remind me of a man I met at
+Roville. He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had made a
+hash of everything. Well, that took all you had, I suppose?"
+
+"Not quite. I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal that
+really did look cast-iron."
+
+"And that went wrong!"
+
+"It wasn't my fault," said Fillmore querulously. "It was just my
+poisonous luck. A man I knew got me to join a syndicate which had
+bought up a lot of whisky. The idea was to ship it into Chicago in
+herring-barrels. We should have cleaned up big, only a mutt of a
+detective took it into his darned head to go fooling about with a
+crowbar. Officious ass! It wasn't as if the barrels weren't labelled
+'Herrings' as plainly as they could be," said Fillmore with honest
+indignation. He shuddered. "I nearly got arrested."
+
+"But that went wrong? Well, that's something to be thankful for. Stripes
+wouldn't suit your figure." Sally gave his arm a squeeze. She was
+very fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his soul she generally
+concealed her affection beneath a manner which he had once compared,
+not without some reason, to that of a governess who had afflicted their
+mutual childhood. "Never mind, you poor ill-used martyr. Things are sure
+to come right. We shall see you a millionaire some day. And, oh heavens,
+brother Fillmore, what a bore you'll be when you are! I can just see
+you being interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good.
+'Mr. Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work. He can lay his
+hand on his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged in
+those rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise and
+watch things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and watch 'em
+rise.' Fill... I'll tell you what I'll do. They all say it's the first
+bit of money that counts in building a vast fortune. I'll lend you some
+of mine."
+
+"You will? Sally, I always said you were an ace."
+
+"I never heard you. You oughtn't to mumble so."
+
+"Will you lend me twenty thousand dollars?"
+
+Sally patted his hand soothingly.
+
+"Come slowly down to earth," she said. "Two hundred was the sum I had in
+mind."
+
+"I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You'd better rob a bank. Any policeman will direct you to a good bank."
+
+"I'll tell you why I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You might just mention it."
+
+"If I had twenty thousand, I'd buy this production from Cracknell. He'll
+be back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman has quit: and,
+if she really has, you take it from me that he will close the show. And,
+even if he manages to jolly her along this time and she comes back, it's
+going to happen sooner or later. It's a shame to let a show like this
+close. I believe in it, Sally. It's a darn good play. With Elsa Doland
+in the big part, it couldn't fail."
+
+Sally started. Her money was too recent for her to have grown fully
+accustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a position
+to wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale. The financing of
+a theatrical production had always been to her something mysterious
+and out of the reach of ordinary persons like herself. Fillmore, that
+spacious thinker, had brought it into the sphere of the possible.
+
+"He'd sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit in
+hand. You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York.
+I'd give you ten per cent on your money, Sally."
+
+Sally found herself wavering. The prudent side of her nature, which
+hitherto had steered her safely through most of life's rapids, seemed
+oddly dormant. Sub-consciously she was aware that on past performances
+Fillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control of anybody's
+little fortune, but somehow the thought did not seem to grip her. He had
+touched her imagination.
+
+"It's a gold-mine!"
+
+Sally's prudent side stirred in its sleep. Fillmore had chosen an
+unfortunate expression. To the novice in finance the word gold-mine
+had repellent associations. If there was one thing in which Sally had
+proposed not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she had had
+in view, as a matter of fact, had been one of those little fancy shops
+which are called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or something like
+that, where you sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy at extortionate
+prices. She knew two girls who were doing splendidly in that line. As
+Fillmore spoke those words, Ye Corner Shoppe suddenly looked very good
+to her.
+
+At this moment, however, two things happened. Gerald and Mr. Bunbury,
+in the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of the
+footlights, and she was able to see Gerald's face: and at the same time
+Mr. Reginald Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole demeanour that
+of the bearer of evil tidings.
+
+The sight of Gerald's face annihilated Sally's prudence at a single
+stroke. Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been shining
+brightly before her mental eye, flickered and melted out. The whole
+issue became clear and simple. Gerald was miserable and she had it in
+her power to make him happy. He was sullenly awaiting disaster and she
+with a word could avert it. She wondered that she had ever hesitated.
+
+"All right," she said simply.
+
+Fillmore quivered from head to foot. A powerful electric shock could not
+have produced a stronger convulsion. He knew Sally of old as cautious
+and clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother's eloquence;
+and he had never looked on this thing as anything better than a hundred
+to one shot.
+
+"You'll do it?" he whispered, and held his breath. After all he might
+not have heard correctly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+All the complex emotion in Fillmore's soul found expression in one vast
+whoop. It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump, beating
+against the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very gallery.
+Mr. Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr. Cracknell across the
+footlights, shied like a startled mule. There was reproach and menace in
+the look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute earlier it would have reduced
+that financial magnate to apologetic pulp. But Fillmore was not to
+be intimidated now by a look. He strode down to the group at the
+footlights,
+
+"Cracknell," he said importantly, "one moment, I should like a word with
+you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS
+
+
+
+If actors and actresses are like children in that they are readily
+depressed by disaster, they have the child's compensating gift of being
+easily uplifted by good fortune. It amazed Sally that any one mortal
+should have been able to spread such universal happiness as she had
+done by the simple act of lending her brother Fillmore twenty thousand
+dollars. If the Millennium had arrived, the members of the Primrose
+Way Company could not have been on better terms with themselves. The
+lethargy and dispiritedness, caused by their week of inaction, fell from
+them like a cloak. The sudden elevation of that creature of the abyss,
+the assistant stage manager, to the dizzy height of proprietor of the
+show appealed to their sense of drama. Most of them had played in pieces
+where much the same thing had happened to the persecuted heroine round
+about eleven o'clock, and the situation struck them as theatrically
+sound. Also, now that she had gone, the extent to which Miss Hobson had
+acted as a blight was universally recognized.
+
+A spirit of optimism reigned, and cheerful rumours became current. The
+bowler-hatted Teddy had it straight from the lift-boy at his hotel that
+the ban on the theatres was to be lifted on Tuesday at the latest; while
+no less an authority than the cigar-stand girl at the Pontchatrain had
+informed the man who played the butler that Toledo and Cleveland were
+opening to-morrow. It was generally felt that the sun was bursting
+through the clouds and that Fate would soon despair of the hopeless task
+of trying to keep good men down.
+
+Fillmore was himself again. We all have our particular mode of
+self-expression in moments of elation. Fillmore's took the shape of
+buying a new waistcoat and a hundred half-dollar cigars and being very
+fussy about what he had for lunch. It may have been an optical illusion,
+but he appeared to Sally to put on at least six pounds in weight on the
+first day of the new regime. As a serf looking after paper-knives and
+other properties, he had been--for him--almost slim. As a manager
+he blossomed out into soft billowy curves, and when he stood on the
+sidewalk in front of the theatre, gloating over the new posters which
+bore the legend,
+
+     FILLMORE NICHOLAS
+
+     PRESENTS
+
+
+the populace had to make a detour to get round him.
+
+In this era of bubbling joy, it was hard that Sally, the fairy godmother
+responsible for it all, should not have been completely happy too; and
+it puzzled her why she was not. But whatever it was that cast the faint
+shadow refused obstinately to come out from the back of her mind and
+show itself and be challenged. It was not till she was out driving in
+a hired car with Gerald one afternoon on Belle Isle that enlightenment
+came.
+
+Gerald, since the departure of Miss Hobson, had been at his best. Like
+Fillmore, he was a man who responded to the sunshine of prosperity. His
+moodiness had vanished, and all his old charm had returned. And yet...
+it seemed to Sally, as the car slid smoothly through the pleasant woods
+and fields by the river, that there was something that jarred.
+
+Gerald was cheerful and talkative. He, at any rate, found nothing wrong
+with life. He held forth spaciously on the big things he intended to do.
+
+"If this play get over--and it's going to--I'll show 'em!" His jaw was
+squared, and his eyes glowed as they stared into the inviting future.
+"One success--that's all I need--then watch me! I haven't had a chance
+yet, but..."
+
+His voice rolled on, but Sally had ceased to listen. It was the time of
+year when the chill of evening follows swiftly on the mellow warmth
+of afternoon. The sun had gone behind the trees, and a cold wind was
+blowing up from the river. And quite suddenly, as though it was the
+wind that had cleared her mind, she understood what it was that had been
+lurking at the back of her thoughts. For an instant it stood out nakedly
+without concealment, and the world became a forlorn place. She had
+realized the fundamental difference between man's outlook on life and
+woman's.
+
+Success! How men worshipped it, and how little of themselves they had to
+spare for anything else. Ironically, it was the theme of this very play
+of Gerald's which she had saved from destruction. Of all the men she
+knew, how many had any view of life except as a race which they must
+strain every nerve to win, regardless of what they missed by the wayside
+in their haste? Fillmore--Gerald--all of them. There might be a woman in
+each of their lives, but she came second--an afterthought--a thing for
+their spare time. Gerald was everything to her. His success would never
+be more than a side-issue as far as she was concerned. He himself,
+without any of the trappings of success, was enough for her. But she was
+not enough for him. A spasm of futile jealousy shook her. She shivered.
+
+"Cold?" said Gerald. "I'll tell the man to drive back... I don't see any
+reason why this play shouldn't run a year in New York. Everybody says
+it's good... if it does get over, they'll all be after me. I..."
+
+Sally stared out into a bleak world. The sky was a leaden grey, and the
+wind from the river blew with a dismal chill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE--AND GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+When Sally left Detroit on the following Saturday, accompanied by
+Fillmore, who was returning to the metropolis for a few days in order to
+secure offices and generally make his presence felt along Broadway, her
+spirits had completely recovered. She felt guiltily that she had been
+fanciful, even morbid. Naturally men wanted to get on in the world.
+It was their job. She told herself that she was bound up with Gerald's
+success, and that the last thing of which she ought to complain was the
+energy he put into efforts of which she as well as he would reap the
+reward.
+
+To this happier frame of mind the excitement of the last few days had
+contributed. Detroit, that city of amiable audiences, had liked "The
+Primrose Way." The theatre, in fulfilment of Teddy's prophecy, had
+been allowed to open on the Tuesday, and a full house, hungry for
+entertainment after its enforced abstinence, had welcomed the play
+wholeheartedly. The papers, not always in agreement with the applause of
+a first-night audience, had on this occasion endorsed the verdict, with
+agreeable unanimity hailing Gerald as the coming author and Elsa Doland
+as the coming star. There had even been a brief mention of Fillmore as
+the coming manager. But there is always some trifle that jars in our
+greatest moments, and Fillmore's triumph had been almost spoilt by the
+fact that the only notice taken of Gladys Winch was by the critic who
+printed her name--spelt Wunch--in the list of those whom the cast "also
+included."
+
+"One of the greatest character actresses on the stage," said Fillmore
+bitterly, talking over this outrage with Sally on the morning after the
+production.
+
+From this blow, however, his buoyant nature had soon enabled him to
+rally. Life contained so much that was bright that it would have been
+churlish to concentrate the attention on the one dark spot. Business had
+been excellent all through the week. Elsa Doland had got better at
+every performance. The receipt of a long and agitated telegram from Mr.
+Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the passage of
+time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a pleasant incident.
+And, best of all, the great Ike Schumann, who owned half the theatres
+in New York and had been in Detroit superintending one of his musical
+productions, had looked in one evening and stamped "The Primrose Way"
+with the seal of his approval. As Fillmore sat opposite Sally on the
+train, he radiated contentment and importance.
+
+"Yes, do," said Sally, breaking a long silence.
+
+Fillmore awoke from happy dreams.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I said 'Yes, do.' I think you owe it to your position."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Buy a fur coat. Wasn't that what you were meditating about?"
+
+"Don't be a chump," said Fillmore, blushing nevertheless. It was true
+that once or twice during the past week he had toyed negligently, as
+Mr. Bunbury would have said, with the notion, and why not? A fellow must
+keep warm.
+
+"With an astrakhan collar," insisted Sally.
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Fillmore loftily, his great soul ill-attuned
+to this badinage, "what I was really thinking about at the moment was
+something Ike said."
+
+"Ike?"
+
+"Ike Schumann. He's on the train. I met him just now."
+
+"We call him Ike!"
+
+"Of course I call him Ike," said Fillmore heatedly. "Everyone calls him
+Ike."
+
+"He wears a fur coat," Sally murmured.
+
+Fillmore registered annoyance.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't keep on harping on that damned coat. And, anyway,
+why shouldn't I have a fur coat?"
+
+"Fill...! How can you be so brutal as to suggest that I ever said you
+shouldn't? Why, I'm one of the strongest supporters of the fur coat.
+With big cuffs. And you must roll up Fifth Avenue in your car, and I'll
+point and say 'That's my brother!' 'Your brother? No!' 'He is, really.'
+'You're joking. Why, that's the great Fillmore Nicholas.' 'I know. But
+he really is my brother. And I was with him when he bought that coat.'"
+
+"Do leave off about the coat!"
+
+"'And it isn't only the coat,' I shall say. 'It's what's underneath.
+Tucked away inside that mass of fur, dodging about behind that dollar
+cigar, is one to whom we point with pride... '"
+
+Fillmore looked coldly at his watch.
+
+"I've got to go and see Ike Schumann."
+
+"We are in hourly consultation with Ike."
+
+"He wants to see me about the show. He suggests putting it into Chicago
+before opening in New York."
+
+"Oh no," cried Sally, dismayed.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Sally recovered herself. Identifying Gerald so closely with his play,
+she had supposed for a moment that if the piece opened in Chicago it
+would mean a further prolonged separation from him. But of course there
+would be no need, she realized, for him to stay with the company after
+the first day or two.
+
+"You're thinking that we ought to have a New York reputation before
+tackling Chicago. There's a lot to be said for that. Still, it works
+both ways. A Chicago run would help us in New York. Well, I'll have
+to think it over," said Fillmore, importantly, "I'll have to think it
+over."
+
+He mused with drawn brows.
+
+"All wrong," said Sally.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Not a bit like it. The lips should be compressed and the forefinger of
+the right hand laid in a careworn way against the right temple. You've a
+lot to learn. Fill."
+
+"Oh, stop it!"
+
+"Fillmore Nicholas," said Sally, "if you knew what pain it gives me to
+josh my only brother, you'd be sorry for me. But you know it's for your
+good. Now run along and put Ike out of his misery. I know he's waiting
+for you with his watch out. 'You do think he'll come, Miss Nicholas?'
+were his last words to me as he stepped on the train, and oh, Fill, the
+yearning in his voice. 'Why, of course he will, Mr. Schumann,' I said.
+'For all his exalted position, my brother is kindliness itself. Of
+course he'll come.' 'If I could only think so!' he said with a gulp. 'If
+I could only think so. But you know what these managers are. A thousand
+calls on their time. They get brooding on their fur coats and forget
+everything else.' 'Have no fear, Mr. Schumann,' I said. 'Fillmore
+Nicholas is a man of his word.'"
+
+She would have been willing, for she was a girl who never believed in
+sparing herself where it was a question of entertaining her nearest and
+dearest, to continue the dialogue, but Fillmore was already moving down
+the car, his rigid back a silent protest against sisterly levity. Sally
+watched him disappear, then picked up a magazine and began to read.
+
+She had just finished tracking a story of gripping interest through
+a jungle of advertisements, only to find that it was in two parts, of
+which the one she was reading was the first, when a voice spoke.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Nicholas?"
+
+Into the seat before her, recently released from the weight of the
+coming manager, Bruce Carmyle of all people in the world insinuated
+himself with that well-bred air of deferential restraint which never
+left him.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally was considerably startled. Everybody travels nowadays, of course,
+and there is nothing really remarkable in finding a man in America whom
+you had supposed to be in Europe: but nevertheless she was conscious of
+a dream-like sensation, as though the clock had been turned back and a
+chapter of her life reopened which she had thought closed for ever.
+
+"Mr. Carmyle!" she cried.
+
+If Sally had been constantly in Bruce Carmyle's thoughts since they
+had parted on the Paris express, Mr. Carmyle had been very little in
+Sally's--so little, indeed, that she had had to search her memory for a
+moment before she identified him.
+
+"We're always meeting on trains, aren't we?" she went on, her composure
+returning. "I never expected to see you in America."
+
+"I came over."
+
+Sally was tempted to reply that she gathered that, but a sudden
+embarrassment curbed her tongue. She had just remembered that at their
+last meeting she had been abominably rude to this man. She was never
+rude to anyone, without subsequent remorse. She contented herself with a
+tame "Yes."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, "it is a good many years since I have taken
+a real holiday. My doctor seemed to think I was a trifle run down. It
+seemed a good opportunity to visit America. Everybody," said Mr. Carmyle
+oracularly, endeavouring, as he had often done since his ship had left
+England, to persuade himself that his object in making the trip had not
+been merely to renew his acquaintance with Sally, "everybody ought to
+visit America at least once. It is part of one's education."
+
+"And what are your impressions of our glorious country?" said Sally
+rallying.
+
+Mr. Carmyle seemed glad of the opportunity of lecturing on an impersonal
+subject. He, too, though his face had shown no trace of it, had been
+embarrassed in the opening stages of the conversation. The sound of his
+voice restored him.
+
+"I have been visiting Chicago," he said after a brief travelogue.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"A wonderful city."
+
+"I've never seen it. I've come from Detroit."
+
+"Yes, I heard you were in Detroit."
+
+Sally's eyes opened.
+
+"You heard I was in Detroit? Good gracious! How?"
+
+"I--ah--called at your New York address and made inquiries," said Mr.
+Carmyle a little awkwardly.
+
+"But how did you know where I lived?"
+
+"My cousin--er--Lancelot told me."
+
+Sally was silent for a moment. She had much the same feeling that
+comes to the man in the detective story who realizes that he is being
+shadowed. Even if this almost complete stranger had not actually come to
+America in direct pursuit of her, there was no disguising the fact that
+he evidently found her an object of considerable interest. It was a
+compliment, but Sally was not at all sure that she liked it. Bruce
+Carmyle meant nothing to her, and it was rather disturbing to find that
+she was apparently of great importance to him. She seized on the mention
+of Ginger as a lever for diverting the conversation from its present too
+intimate course.
+
+"How is Mr. Kemp?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Carmyle's dark face seemed to become a trifle darker.
+
+"We have had no news of him," he said shortly.
+
+"No news? How do you mean? You speak as though he had disappeared."
+
+"He has disappeared!"
+
+"Good heavens! When?"
+
+"Shortly after I saw you last."
+
+"Disappeared!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle frowned. Sally, watching him, found her antipathy stirring
+again. There was something about this man which she had disliked
+instinctively from the first, a sort of hardness.
+
+"But where has he gone to?"
+
+"I don't know." Mr. Carmyle frowned again. The subject of Ginger was
+plainly a sore one. "And I don't want to know," he went on heatedly,
+a dull flush rising in the cheeks which Sally was sure he had to shave
+twice a day. "I don't care to know. The Family have washed their hands
+of him. For the future he may look after himself as best he can. I
+believe he is off his head."
+
+Sally's rebellious temper was well ablaze now, but she fought it down.
+She would dearly have loved to give battle to Mr. Carmyle--it was odd,
+she felt, how she seemed to have constituted herself Ginger's champion
+and protector--but she perceived that, if she wished, as she did, to
+hear more of her red-headed friend, he must be humoured and conciliated.
+
+"But what happened? What was all the trouble about?"
+
+Mr. Carmyle's eyebrows met.
+
+"He--insulted his uncle. His uncle Donald. He insulted him--grossly. The
+one man in the world he should have made a point of--er--"
+
+"Keeping in with?"
+
+"Yes. His future depended upon him."
+
+"But what did he do?" cried Sally, trying hard to keep a thoroughly
+reprehensible joy out of her voice.
+
+"I have heard no details. My uncle is reticent as to what actually
+took place. He invited Lancelot to dinner to discuss his plans, and
+it appears that Lancelot--defied him. Defied him! He was rude and
+insulting. My uncle refuses to have anything more to do with him.
+Apparently the young fool managed to win some money at the tables at
+Roville, and this seems to have turned his head completely. My uncle
+insists that he is mad. I agree with him. Since the night of that dinner
+nothing has been heard of Lancelot."
+
+Mr. Carmyle broke off to brood once more, and before Sally could speak
+the impressive bulk of Fillmore loomed up in the aisle beside them.
+Explanations seemed to Fillmore to be in order. He cast a questioning
+glance at the mysterious stranger, who, in addition to being in
+conversation with his sister, had collared his seat.
+
+"Oh, hullo, Fill," said Sally. "Fillmore, this is Mr. Carmyle. We met
+abroad. My brother Fillmore, Mr. Carmyle."
+
+Proper introduction having been thus effected, Fillmore approved of Mr.
+Carmyle. His air of being someone in particular appealed to him.
+
+"Strange you meeting again like this," he said affably.
+
+The porter, who had been making up berths along the car, was now
+hovering expectantly in the offing.
+
+"You two had better go into the smoking room," suggested Sally. "I'm
+going to bed."
+
+She wanted to be alone, to think. Mr. Carmyle's tale of a roused and
+revolting Ginger had stirred her.
+
+The two men went off to the smoking-room, and Sally found an empty seat
+and sat down to wait for her berth to be made up. She was aglow with a
+curious exhilaration. So Ginger had taken her advice! Excellent Ginger!
+She felt proud of him. She also had that feeling of complacency,
+amounting almost to sinful pride, which comes to those who give advice
+and find it acted upon. She had the emotions of a creator. After all,
+had she not created this new Ginger? It was she who had stirred him
+up. It was she who had unleashed him. She had changed him from a meek
+dependent of the Family to a ravening creature, who went about the place
+insulting uncles.
+
+It was a feat, there was no denying it. It was something attempted,
+something done: and by all the rules laid down by the poet it should,
+therefore, have earned a night's repose. Yet, Sally, jolted by the
+train, which towards the small hours seemed to be trying out some new
+buck-and-wing steps of its own invention, slept ill, and presently, as
+she lay awake, there came to her bedside the Spectre of Doubt, gaunt and
+questioning. Had she, after all, wrought so well? Had she been wise in
+tampering with this young man's life?
+
+"What about it?" said the Spectre of Doubt.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Daylight brought no comforting answer to the question. Breakfast failed
+to manufacture an easy mind. Sally got off the train, at the Grand
+Central station in a state of remorseful concern. She declined the offer
+of Mr. Carmyle to drive her to the boarding-house, and started to walk
+there, hoping that the crisp morning air would effect a cure.
+
+She wondered now how she could ever have looked with approval on her
+rash act. She wondered what demon of interference and meddling had
+possessed her, to make her blunder into people's lives, upsetting them.
+She wondered that she was allowed to go around loose. She was nothing
+more nor less than a menace to society. Here was an estimable young man,
+obviously the sort of young man who would always have to be assisted
+through life by his relatives, and she had deliberately egged him on
+to wreck his prospects. She blushed hotly as she remembered that mad
+wireless she had sent him from the boat.
+
+Miserable Ginger! She pictured him, his little stock of money gone,
+wandering foot-sore about London, seeking in vain for work; forcing
+himself to call on Uncle Donald; being thrown down the front steps by
+haughty footmen; sleeping on the Embankment; gazing into the dark waters
+of the Thames with the stare of hopelessness; climbing to the parapet
+and...
+
+"Ugh!" said Sally.
+
+She had arrived at the door of the boarding-house, and Mrs. Meecher was
+regarding her with welcoming eyes, little knowing that to all practical
+intents and purposes she had slain in his prime a red-headed young
+man of amiable manners and--when not ill-advised by meddling, muddling
+females--of excellent behaviour.
+
+Mrs. Meecher was friendly and garrulous. Variety, the journal which,
+next to the dog Toto, was the thing she loved best in the world, had
+informed her on the Friday morning that Mr. Foster's play had got over
+big in Detroit, and that Miss Doland had made every kind of hit. It was
+not often that the old alumni of the boarding-house forced their
+way after this fashion into the Hall of Fame, and, according to Mrs.
+Meecher, the establishment was ringing with the news. That blue ribbon
+round Toto's neck was worn in honour of the triumph. There was also,
+though you could not see it, a chicken dinner in Toto's interior, by way
+of further celebration.
+
+And was it true that Mr. Fillmore had bought the piece? A great man, was
+Mrs. Meecher's verdict. Mr. Faucitt had always said so...
+
+"Oh, how is Mr. Faucitt?" Sally asked, reproaching herself for having
+allowed the pressure of other matters to drive all thoughts of her late
+patient from her mind.
+
+"He's gone," said Mrs. Meecher with such relish that to Sally, in her
+morbid condition, the words had only one meaning. She turned white and
+clutched at the banisters.
+
+"Gone!"
+
+"To England," added Mrs. Meecher. Sally was vastly relieved.
+
+"Oh, I thought you meant..."
+
+"Oh no, not that." Mrs. Meecher sighed, for she had been a little
+disappointed in the old gentleman, who started out as such a promising
+invalid, only to fall away into the dullness of robust health once more.
+"He's well enough. I never seen anybody better. You'd think," said Mrs.
+Meecher, bearing up with difficulty under her grievance, "you'd
+think this here new Spanish influenza was a sort of a tonic or
+somep'n, the way he looks now. Of course," she added, trying to find
+justification for a respected lodger, "he's had good news. His brother's
+dead."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Not, I don't mean, that that was good news, far from it, though, come
+to think of it, all flesh is as grass and we all got to be prepared for
+somep'n of the sort breaking loose...but it seems this here new brother
+of his--I didn't know he'd a brother, and I don't suppose you knew he
+had a brother. Men are secretive, ain't they!--this brother of his
+has left him a parcel of money, and Mr. Faucitt he had to get on the
+Wednesday boat quick as he could and go right over to the other side to
+look after things. Wind up the estate, I believe they call it. Left in a
+awful hurry, he did. Sent his love to you and said he'd write. Funny him
+having a brother, now, wasn't it? Not," said Mrs. Meecher, at heart a
+reasonable woman, "that folks don't have brothers. I got two myself, one
+in Portland, Oregon, and the other goodness knows where he is. But what
+I'm trying to say..."
+
+Sally disengaged herself, and went up to her room. For a brief while the
+excitement which comes of hearing good news about those of whom we are
+fond acted as a stimulant, and she felt almost cheerful. Dear old Mr.
+Faucitt. She was sorry for his brother, of course, though she had never
+had the pleasure of his acquaintance and had only just heard that he had
+ever existed; but it was nice to think that her old friend's remaining
+years would be years of affluence.
+
+Presently, however, she found her thoughts wandering back into their
+melancholy groove. She threw herself wearily on the bed. She was tired
+after her bad night.
+
+But she could not sleep. Remorse kept her awake. Besides, she could hear
+Mrs. Meecher prowling disturbingly about the house, apparently in search
+of someone, her progress indicated by creaking boards and the strenuous
+yapping of Toto.
+
+Sally turned restlessly, and, having turned remained for a long instant
+transfixed and rigid. She had seen something, and what she had seen
+was enough to surprise any girl in the privacy of her bedroom. From
+underneath the bed there peeped coyly forth an undeniably masculine shoe
+and six inches of a grey trouser-leg.
+
+Sally bounded to the floor. She was a girl of courage, and she meant to
+probe this matter thoroughly.
+
+"What are you doing under my bed?"
+
+The question was a reasonable one, and evidently seemed to the intruder
+to deserve an answer. There was a muffled sneeze, and he began to crawl
+out.
+
+The shoe came first. Then the legs. Then a sturdy body in a dusty coat.
+And finally there flashed on Sally's fascinated gaze a head of so nearly
+the maximum redness that it could only belong to one person in the
+world.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+Mr. Lancelot Kemp, on all fours, blinked up at her.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. GINGER BECOMES A RIGHT-HAND MAN
+
+
+
+It was not till she saw him actually standing there before her with his
+hair rumpled and a large smut on the tip of his nose, that Sally really
+understood how profoundly troubled she had been about this young man,
+and how vivid had been that vision of him bobbing about on the waters
+of the Thames, a cold and unappreciated corpse. She was a girl of keen
+imagination, and she had allowed her imagination to riot unchecked.
+Astonishment, therefore, at the extraordinary fact of his being there
+was for the moment thrust aside by relief. Never before in her life had
+she experienced such an overwhelming rush of exhilaration. She flung
+herself into a chair and burst into a screech of laughter which even to
+her own ears sounded strange. It struck Ginger as hysterical.
+
+"I say, you know!" said Ginger, as the merriment showed no signs of
+abating. Ginger was concerned. Nasty shock for a girl, finding blighters
+under her bed.
+
+Sally sat up, gurgling, and wiped her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I am glad to see you," she gasped.
+
+"No, really?" said Ginger, gratified. "That's fine." It occurred to him
+that some sort of apology would be a graceful act. "I say, you know,
+awfully sorry. About barging in here, I mean. Never dreamed it was your
+room. Unoccupied, I thought."
+
+"Don't mention it. I ought not to have disturbed you. You were having a
+nice sleep, of course. Do you always sleep on the floor?"
+
+"It was like this..."
+
+"Of course, if you're wearing it for ornament, as a sort of
+beauty-spot," said Sally, "all right. But in case you don't know, you've
+a smut on your nose."
+
+"Oh, my aunt! Not really?"
+
+"Now would I deceive you on an important point like that?"
+
+"Do you mind if I have a look in the glass?"
+
+"Certainly, if you can stand it."
+
+Ginger moved hurriedly to the dressing-table.
+
+"You're perfectly right," he announced, applying his handkerchief.
+
+"I thought I was. I'm very quick at noticing things."
+
+"My hair's a bit rumpled, too."
+
+"Very much so."
+
+"You take my tip," said Ginger, earnestly, "and never lie about under
+beds. There's nothing in it."
+
+"That reminds me. You won't be offended if I asked you something?"
+
+"No, no. Go ahead."
+
+"It's rather an impertinent question. You may resent it."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Well, then, what were you doing under my bed?"
+
+"Oh, under your bed?"
+
+"Yes. Under my bed. This. It's a bed, you know. Mine. My bed. You were
+under it. Why? Or putting it another way, why were you under my bed?"
+
+"I was hiding."
+
+"Playing hide-and-seek? That explains it."
+
+"Mrs. What's-her-name--Beecher--Meecher--was after me."
+
+Sally shook her head disapprovingly.
+
+"You mustn't encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes. It
+unsettles her."
+
+Ginger passed an agitated hand over his forehead.
+
+"It's like this..."
+
+"I hate to keep criticizing your appearance," said Sally, "and
+personally I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you
+put about a pound of dust on it. Your hands are probably grubby."
+
+Ginger inspected them.
+
+"They are!"
+
+"Why not make a really good job of it and have a wash?"
+
+"Do you mind?"
+
+"I'd prefer it."
+
+"Thanks awfully. I mean to say it's your basin, you know, and all that.
+What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Touching the matter of soap..."
+
+"Use mine. We Americans are famous for our hospitality."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"The towel is on your right."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And I've a clothes brush in my bag."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+Splashing followed like a sea-lion taking a dip. "Now, then," said
+Sally, "why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+A careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger's face. "I say, you
+know, that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads, what! Scares
+me! Word was brought that she was on the prowl, so it seemed to me a
+judicious move to take cover till she sort of blew over. If she'd found
+me, she'd have made me take that dog of hers for a walk."
+
+"Toto?"
+
+"Toto. You know," said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, "no dog's
+got a right to be a dog like that. I don't suppose there's anyone
+keener on dogs than I am, but a thing like a woolly rat." He shuddered
+slightly. "Well, one hates to be seen about with it in the public
+streets."
+
+"Why couldn't you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to take
+Toto out?"
+
+"Ah! There you rather touch the spot. You see, the fact of the matter
+is, I'm a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard to
+take what you might call a firm stand."
+
+"But how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday
+before last and you weren't in the place then. You can't have been here
+more than a week."
+
+"I've been here just a week. That's the week I'm behind with."
+
+"But why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville."
+
+"Well, the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night
+and lost a goodish bit of what I'd won. And, somehow or another, when I
+got to America, the stuff seemed to slip away."
+
+"What made you come to America at all?" said Sally, asking the question
+which, she felt, any sensible person would have asked at the opening of
+the conversation.
+
+One of his familiar blushes raced over Ginger's face. "Oh, I thought I
+would. Land of opportunity, you know."
+
+"Have you managed to find any of the opportunities yet?"
+
+"Well, I have got a job of sorts, I'm a waiter at a rummy little place
+on Second Avenue. The salary isn't big, but I'd have wangled enough out
+of it to pay last week's rent, only they docked me a goodish bit for
+breaking plates and what not. The fact is, I'm making rather a hash of
+it."
+
+"Oh, Ginger! You oughtn't to be a waiter!"
+
+"That's what the boss seems to think."
+
+"I mean, you ought to be doing something ever so much better."
+
+"But what? You've no notion how well all these blighters here seem to
+be able to get along without my help. I've tramped all over the place,
+offering my services, but they all say they'll try to carry on as they
+are."
+
+Sally reflected.
+
+"I know!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'll make Fillmore give you a job. I wonder I didn't think of it
+before."
+
+"Fillmore?"
+
+"My brother. Yes, he'll be able to use you."
+
+"What as?"
+
+Sally considered.
+
+"As a--as a--oh, as his right-hand man."
+
+"Does he want a right-hand man?"
+
+"Sure to. He's a young fellow trying to get along. Sure to want a
+right-hand man."
+
+"'M yes," said Ginger reflectively. "Of course, I've never been a
+right-hand man, you know."
+
+"Oh, you'd pick it up. I'll take you round to him now. He's staying at
+the Astor."
+
+"There's just one thing," said Ginger.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"I might make a hash of it."
+
+"Heavens, Ginger! There must be something in this world that you
+wouldn't make a hash of. Don't stand arguing any longer. Are you dry?
+and clean? Very well, then. Let's be off."
+
+"Right ho."
+
+Ginger took a step towards the door, then paused, rigid, with one leg in
+the air, as though some spell had been cast upon him. From the passage
+outside there had sounded a shrill yapping. Ginger looked at Sally. Then
+he looked--longingly--at the bed.
+
+"Don't be such a coward," said Sally, severely.
+
+"Yes, but..."
+
+"How much do you owe Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+"Round about twelve dollars, I think it is."
+
+"I'll pay her."
+
+Ginger flushed awkwardly.
+
+"No, I'm hanged if you will! I mean," he stammered, "it's frightfully
+good of you and all that, and I can't tell you how grateful I am, but
+honestly, I couldn't..."
+
+Sally did not press the point. She liked him the better for a rugged
+independence, which in the days of his impecuniousness her brother
+Fillmore had never dreamed of exhibiting.
+
+"Very well," she said. "Have it your own way. Proud. That's me all over,
+Mabel. Ginger!" She broke off sharply. "Pull yourself together. Where is
+your manly spirit? I'd be ashamed to be such a coward."
+
+"Awfully sorry, but, honestly, that woolly dog..."
+
+"Never mind the dog. I'll see you through."
+
+They came out into the passage almost on top of Toto, who was stalking
+phantom rats. Mrs. Meecher was manoeuvring in the background. Her face
+lit up grimly at the sight of Ginger.
+
+"Mister Kemp! I been looking for you."
+
+Sally intervened brightly.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Meecher," she said, shepherding her young charge through the
+danger zone, "I was so surprised to meet Mr. Kemp here. He is a great
+friend of mine. We met in France. We're going off now to have a long
+talk about old times, and then I'm taking him to see my brother..."
+
+"Toto..."
+
+"Dear little thing! You ought to take him for a walk," said Sally. "It's
+a lovely day. Mr. Kemp was saying just now that he would have liked to
+take him, but we're rather in a hurry and shall probably have to get
+into a taxi. You've no idea how busy my brother is just now. If we're
+late, he'll never forgive us."
+
+She passed on down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Meecher dissatisfied
+but irresolute. There was something about Sally which even in her
+pre-wealthy days had always baffled Mrs. Meecher and cramped her style,
+and now that she was rich and independent she inspired in the chatelaine
+of the boarding-house an emotion which was almost awe. The front door
+had closed before Mrs. Meecher had collected her faculties; and Ginger,
+pausing on the sidewalk, drew a long breath.
+
+"You know, you're wonderful!" he said, regarding Sally with unconcealed
+admiration.
+
+She accepted the compliment composedly.
+
+"Now we'll go and hunt up Fillmore," she said. "But there's no need to
+hurry, of course, really. We'll go for a walk first, and then call at
+the Astor and make him give us lunch. I want to hear all about you. I've
+heard something already. I met your cousin, Mr. Carmyle. He was on the
+train coming from Detroit. Did you know that he was in America?"
+
+"No, I've--er--rather lost touch with the Family."
+
+"So I gathered from Mr. Carmyle. And I feel hideously responsible. It
+was all through me that all this happened."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Of course it was. I made you what you are to-day--I hope I'm
+satisfied--I dragged and dragged you down until the soul within you
+died, so to speak. I know perfectly well that you wouldn't have dreamed
+of savaging the Family as you seem to have done if it hadn't been for
+what I said to you at Roville. Ginger, tell me, what did happen? I'm
+dying to know. Mr. Carmyle said you insulted your uncle!"
+
+"Donald. Yes, we did have a bit of a scrap, as a matter of fact. He made
+me go out to dinner with him and we--er--sort of disagreed. To start
+with, he wanted me to apologize to old Scrymgeour, and I rather gave it
+a miss."
+
+"Noble fellow!"
+
+"Scrymgeour?"
+
+"No, silly! You."
+
+"Oh, ah!" Ginger blushed. "And then there was all that about the soup,
+you know."
+
+"How do you mean, 'all that about the soup'? What about the soup? What
+soup?"
+
+"Well, things sort of hotted up a bit when the soup arrived."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"I mean, the trouble seemed to start, as it were, when the waiter had
+finished ladling out the mulligatawny. Thick soup, you know."
+
+"I know mulligatawny is a thick soup. Yes?"
+
+"Well, my old uncle--I'm not blaming him, don't you know--more his
+misfortune than his fault--I can see that now--but he's got a heavy
+moustache. Like a walrus, rather, and he's a bit apt to inhale the stuff
+through it. And I--well, I asked him not to. It was just a suggestion,
+you know. He cut up fairly rough, and by the time the fish came round
+we were more or less down on the mat chewing holes in one another. My
+fault, probably. I wasn't feeling particularly well-disposed towards
+the Family that night. I'd just had a talk with Bruce--my cousin, you
+know--in Piccadilly, and that had rather got the wind up me. Bruce
+always seems to get on my nerves a bit somehow and--Uncle Donald asking
+me to dinner and all that. By the way, did you get the books?"
+
+"What books?"
+
+"Bruce said he wanted to send you some books. That was why I gave him
+your address." Sally stared.
+
+"He never sent me any books."
+
+"Well, he said he was going to, and I had to tell him where to send
+them."
+
+Sally walked on, a little thoughtfully. She was not a vain girl, but it
+was impossible not to perceive in the light of this fresh evidence that
+Mr. Carmyle had made a journey of three thousand miles with the sole
+object of renewing his acquaintance with her. It did not matter, of
+course, but it was vaguely disturbing. No girl cares to be dogged by a
+man she rather dislikes.
+
+"Go on telling me about your uncle," she said.
+
+"Well, there's not much more to tell. I'd happened to get that wireless
+of yours just before I started out to dinner with him, and I was more or
+less feeling that I wasn't going to stand any rot from the Family. I'd
+got to the fish course, hadn't I? Well, we managed to get through that
+somehow, but we didn't survive the fillet steak. One thing seemed to
+lead to another, and the show sort of bust up. He called me a good many
+things, and I got a bit fed-up, and finally I told him I hadn't any more
+use for the Family and was going to start out on my own. And--well, I
+did, don't you know. And here I am."
+
+Sally listened to this saga breathlessly. More than ever did she feel
+responsible for her young protege, and any faint qualms which she had
+entertained as to the wisdom of transferring practically the whole
+of her patrimony to the care of so erratic a financier as her brother
+vanished. It was her plain duty to see that Ginger was started well in
+the race of life, and Fillmore was going to come in uncommonly handy.
+
+"We'll go to the Astor now," she said, "and I'll introduce you to
+Fillmore. He's a theatrical manager and he's sure to have something for
+you."
+
+"It's awfully good of you to bother about me."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "I regard you as a grandson. Hail that cab, will
+you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. SALLY IN THE SHADOWS
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger
+Kemp that a sort of golden age had set in. On all the frontiers of her
+little kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each morning
+in a world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most captious
+pessimist could hardly have found anything in it to criticize.
+
+True, Gerald was still a thousand miles away. Going to Chicago to
+superintend the opening of "The Primrose Way"; for Fillmore had acceded
+to his friend Ike's suggestion in the matter of producing it first in
+Chicago, and he had been called in by a distracted manager to revise the
+work of a brother dramatist, whose comedy was in difficulties at one of
+the theatres in that city; and this meant he would have to remain on
+the spot for some time to come. It was disappointing, for Sally had been
+looking forward to having him back in New York in a few days; but she
+refused to allow herself to be depressed. Life as a whole was much
+too satisfactory for that. Life indeed, in every other respect, seemed
+perfect. Fillmore was going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; she
+had found an apartment; her new hat suited her; and "The Primrose Way"
+was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore's account,
+was paying little attention to anything except "The Primrose Way."
+National problems had ceased to interest the citizens. Local problems
+left them cold. Their minds were riveted to the exclusion of all else
+on the problem of how to secure seats. The production of the piece,
+according to Fillmore, had been the most terrific experience that had
+come to stir Chicago since the great fire.
+
+Of all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally's
+thinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger's future had been
+solved. Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore
+Nicholas)--Fillmore would have made the title longer, only that was all
+that would go on the brass plate--and was to be found daily in the outer
+office, his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening
+papers. What exactly he was, even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he felt
+like the man at the wheel, sometimes like a glorified office boy, and
+not so very glorified at that. For the most part he had to prevent the
+mob rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in the
+inner office pondering great schemes.
+
+But, though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger's
+mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchange for the
+fifty dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertain about
+his gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabled him to
+do it. He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadays they
+were meeting frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish her new
+apartment. In this task, he spared no efforts. He said that it kept him
+in condition.
+
+"And what I mean to say is," said Ginger, pausing in the act of carrying
+a massive easy chair to the third spot which Sally had selected in the
+last ten minutes, "if I didn't sweat about a bit and help you after the
+way you got me that job..."
+
+"Ginger, desist," said Sally.
+
+"Yes, but honestly..."
+
+"If you don't stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the next
+room."
+
+"Shall I?" Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and took a new grip.
+"Anything you say."
+
+"Silly! Of course not. The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom
+and the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great lumbering chair in
+them for? All the same, I believe the first we chose was the best."
+
+"Back she goes, then, what?"
+
+Sally reflected frowningly. This business of setting up house was
+causing her much thought.
+
+"No," she decided. "By the window is better." She looked at him
+remorsefully. "I'm giving you a lot of trouble."
+
+"Trouble!" Ginger, accompanied by a chair, staggered across the room.
+"The way I look at it is this." He wiped a bead of perspiration from his
+freckled forehead. "You got me that job, and..."
+
+"Stop!"
+
+"Right ho... Still, you did, you know."
+
+Sally sat down in the armchair and stretched herself. Watching Ginger
+work had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly.
+It was certainly beginning to look cosy. The pictures were up, the
+carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order. For almost the first
+time in her life she had the restful sensation of being at home. She had
+always longed, during the past three years of boarding-house existence,
+for a settled abode, a place where she could lock the door on herself
+and be alone. The apartment was small, but it was undeniably a haven.
+She looked about her and could see no flaw in it... except... She had a
+sudden sense of something missing.
+
+"Hullo!" she said. "Where's that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
+the mantelpiece yesterday."
+
+His exertions seemed to have brought the blood to Ginger's face. He was
+a rich red. He inspected the mantelpiece narrowly.
+
+"No. No photograph here."
+
+"I know there isn't. But it was there yesterday. Or was it? I know I
+meant to put it there. Perhaps I forgot. It's the most beautiful thing
+you ever saw. Not a bit like me; but what of that? They touch 'em up in
+the dark-room, you know. I value it because it looks the way I should
+like to look if I could."
+
+"I've never had a beautiful photograph taken of myself," said Ginger,
+solemnly, with gentle regret.
+
+"Cheer up!"
+
+"Oh, I don't mind. I only mentioned..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "pardon my interrupting your remarks, which I know
+are valuable, but this chair is--not--right! It ought to be where it was
+at the beginning. Could you give your imitation of a pack-mule just
+once more? And after that I'll make you some tea. If there's any tea--or
+milk--or cups."
+
+"There are cups all right. I know, because I smashed two the day before
+yesterday. I'll nip round the corner for some milk, shall I?"
+
+"Yes, please nip. All this hard work has taken it out of me terribly."
+
+Over the tea-table Sally became inquisitive.
+
+"What I can't understand about this job of yours. Ginger--which as you
+are just about to observe, I was noble enough to secure for you--is the
+amount of leisure that seems to go with it. How is it that you are able
+to spend your valuable time--Fillmore's valuable time, rather--juggling
+with my furniture every day?"
+
+"Oh, I can usually get off."
+
+"But oughtn't you to be at your post doing--whatever it is you do? What
+do you do?"
+
+Ginger stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.
+
+"Well, I sort of mess about, you know." He pondered. "I interview divers
+blighters and tell 'em your brother is out and take their names and
+addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing."
+
+"Does Fillmore consult you much?"
+
+"He lets me read some of the plays that are sent in. Awful tosh most of
+them. Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an evening."
+
+"As a treat?"
+
+"To see some special act, you know. To report on it. In case he might
+want to use it for this revue of his."
+
+"Which revue?"
+
+"Didn't you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather. A whacking
+big affair. Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing."
+
+"But--my goodness!" Sally was alarmed. It was just like Fillmore, she
+felt, to go branching out into these expensive schemes when he ought to
+be moving warily and trying to consolidate the small success he had had.
+All his life he had thought in millions where the prudent man would have
+been content with hundreds. An inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled
+eternally within him. "That's rather ambitious," she said.
+
+"Yes. Ambitious sort of cove, your brother. Quite the Napoleon."
+
+"I shall have to talk to him," said Sally decidedly. She was annoyed
+with Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
+peaceful and happy and prosperous and no anxiety anywhere, till he had
+spoiled things. Now she would have to start worrying again.
+
+"Of course," argued Ginger, "there's money in revues. Over in London
+fellows make pots out of them."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It won't do," she said. "And I'll tell you another thing that won't do.
+This armchair. Of course it ought to be over by the window. You can see
+that yourself, can't you."
+
+"Absolutely!" said Ginger, patiently preparing for action once more.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally's anxiety with regard to her ebullient brother was not lessened by
+the receipt shortly afterwards of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
+
+Have you been feeding Fillmore meat?
+
+the telegram ran: and, while Sally could not have claimed that she
+completely understood it, there was a sinister suggestion about
+the message which decided her to wait no longer before making
+investigations. She tore herself away from the joys of furnishing and
+went round to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical
+Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas) without delay.
+
+Ginger, she discovered on arrival, was absent from his customary post,
+his place in the outer office being taken by a lad of tender years and
+pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a proud reserve on hearing
+Sally's name, and told her to walk right in. Sally walked right in, and
+found Fillmore with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared
+to be costume-designs.
+
+"Ah, Sally!" he said in the distrait, tired voice which speaks of vast
+preoccupations. Prosperity was still putting in its silent, deadly work
+on the Hope of the American Theatre. What, even at as late an epoch as
+the return from Detroit, had been merely a smooth fullness around the
+angle of the jaw was now frankly and without disguise a double chin. He
+was wearing a new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. "I am rather busy,"
+he went on. "Always glad to see you, but I am rather busy. I have a
+hundred things to attend to."
+
+"Well, attend to me. That'll only make a hundred and one. Fill, what's
+all this I hear about a revue?"
+
+Fillmore looked as like a small boy caught in the act of stealing jam
+as it is possible for a great theatrical manager to look. He had been
+wondering in his darker moments what Sally would say about that project
+when she heard of it, and he had hoped that she would not hear of it
+until all the preparations were so complete that interference would be
+impossible. He was extremely fond of Sally, but there was, he knew,
+a lamentable vein of caution in her make-up which might lead her to
+criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry on if women are buzzing
+round criticizing all the time? He picked up a pen and put it down;
+buttoned his waistcoat and unbuttoned it; and scratched his ear with one
+of the costume-designs.
+
+"Oh yes, the revue!"
+
+"It's no good saying 'Oh yes'! You know perfectly well it's a crazy
+idea."
+
+"Really... these business matters... this interference..."
+
+"I don't want to run your affairs for you, Fill, but that money of mine
+does make me a sort of partner, I suppose, and I think I have a right to
+raise a loud yell of agony when I see you risking it on a..."
+
+"Pardon me," said Fillmore loftily, looking happier. "Let me explain.
+Women never understand business matters. Your money is tied up
+exclusively in 'The Primrose Way,' which, as you know, is a tremendous
+success. You have nothing whatever to worry about as regards any new
+production I may make."
+
+"I'm not worrying about the money. I'm worrying about you."
+
+A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
+
+"Don't be alarmed about me. I'm all right."
+
+"You aren't all right. You've no business, when you've only just got
+started as a manager, to be rushing into an enormous production like
+this. You can't afford it."
+
+"My dear child, as I said before, women cannot understand these things.
+A man in my position can always command money for a new venture."
+
+"Do you mean to say you have found somebody silly enough to put up
+money?"
+
+"Certainly. I don't know that there is any secret about it. Your
+friend, Mr. Carmyle, has taken an interest in some of my forthcoming
+productions."
+
+"What!" Sally had been disturbed before, but she was aghast now.
+
+This was something she had never anticipated. Bruce Carmyle seemed to be
+creeping into her life like an advancing tide. There appeared to be no
+eluding him. Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do nothing
+but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible.
+
+Fillmore misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice.
+
+"It's quite all right," he assured her. "He's a very rich man. Large
+private means, besides his big income. Even if anything goes wrong..."
+
+"It isn't that. It's..."
+
+The hopelessness of explaining to Fillmore stopped Sally. And while she
+was chafing at this new complication which had come to upset the orderly
+routine of her life there was an outburst of voices in the other office.
+Ginger's understudy seemed to be endeavouring to convince somebody that
+the Big Chief was engaged and not to be intruded upon. In this he was
+unsuccessful, for the door opened tempestuously and Miss Winch sailed
+in.
+
+"Fillmore, you poor nut," said Miss Winch, for though she might wrap up
+her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications, when
+it came to the spoken word she was directness itself, "stop picking
+straws in your hair and listen to me. You're dippy!"
+
+The last time Sally had seen Fillmore's fiancee, she had been impressed
+by her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch, in Detroit, had seemed a girl
+whom nothing could ruffle. That she had lapsed now from this serene
+placidity, struck Sally as ominous. Slightly though she knew her, she
+felt that it could be no ordinary happening that had so animated her
+sister-in-law-to-be.
+
+"Ah! Here you are!" said Fillmore. He had started to his feet
+indignantly at the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in its den,
+but calm had returned when he saw who the intruder was.
+
+"Yes, here I am!" Miss Winch dropped despairingly into a swivel-chair,
+and endeavoured to restore herself with a stick of chewing-gum.
+"Fillmore, darling, you're the sweetest thing on earth, and I love you,
+but on present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale and
+they'd give you the royal suite."
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"What do you think?" demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sally.
+
+"I've just been telling him," said Sally, welcoming this ally, "I
+think it's absurd at this stage of things for him to put on an enormous
+revue..."
+
+"Revue?" Miss Winch stopped in the act of gnawing her gum. "What revue?"
+She flung up her arms. "I shall have to swallow this gum," she said.
+"You can't chew with your head going round. Are you putting on a revue
+too?"
+
+Fillmore was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded
+look.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," he replied in a tone of some feverishness. "I
+wish you girls would leave me to manage..."
+
+"Dippy!" said Miss Winch once more. "Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot,
+Matteawan." She swivelled round to Sally again. "Say, listen! This boy
+must be stopped. We must form a gang in his best interests and get
+him put away. What do you think he proposes doing? I'll give you three
+guesses. Oh, what's the use? You'd never hit it. This poor wandering lad
+has got it all fixed up to star me--me--in a new show!"
+
+Fillmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved it
+protestingly.
+
+"I have used my own judgment..."
+
+"Yes, sir!" proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption. "That's
+what he's planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm sitting
+peacefully in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a few cents'
+worth of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper, when the
+telephone rings. Gentleman below would like to see me. Oh, ask him to
+wait. Business of flinging on a few clothes. Down in elevator. Bright
+sunrise effects in lobby."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?"
+
+"The gentleman had a head of red hair which had to be seen to be
+believed," explained Miss Winch. "Lit up the lobby. Management had
+switched off all the electrics for sake of economy. An Englishman he
+was. Nice fellow. Named Kemp."
+
+"Oh, is Ginger in Chicago?" said Sally. "I wondered why he wasn't on his
+little chair in the outer office.
+
+"I sent Kemp to Chicago," said Fillmore, "to have a look at the show. It
+is my policy, if I am unable to pay periodical visits myself, to send a
+representative..."
+
+"Save it up for the long winter evenings," advised Miss Winch, cutting
+in on this statement of managerial tactics. "Mr. Kemp may have been
+there to look at the show, but his chief reason for coming was to tell
+me to beat it back to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted
+me on the spot, he told me, so that I could sit around in this office
+here, interviewing my supporting company. Me! Can you or can you not,"
+inquired Miss Winch frankly, "tie it?"
+
+"Well..." Sally hesitated.
+
+"Don't say it! I know it just as well as you do. It's too sad for
+words."
+
+"You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys," said Fillmore
+reproachfully. "I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical
+matters--I have seen a good deal of acting--and I assure you that as a
+character-actress you..."
+
+Miss Winch rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically,
+and sat down again. She produced another stick of chewing-gum, then
+shook her head and replaced it in her bag.
+
+"You're a darling old thing to talk like that," she said, "and I hate to
+wake you out of your daydreams, but, honestly, Fillmore, dear, do just
+step out of the padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I know
+exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean. You took
+Elsa Doland out of a minor part and made her a star overnight. She goes
+to Chicago, and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As a
+matter of fact," she said to Sally with enthusiasm, for hers was an
+honest and generous nature, "you can't realize, not having seen her
+play there, what an amazing hit she has made. She really is a sensation.
+Everybody says she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very
+well, then, what does Fillmore do? The poor fish claps his hand to his
+forehead and cries 'Gadzooks! An idea! I've done it before, I'll do it
+again. I'm the fellow who can make a star out of anything.' And he picks
+on me!"
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"Now, the flaw in the scheme is this. Elsa is a genius, and if he hadn't
+made her a star somebody else would have done. But little Gladys? That's
+something else again." She turned to Sally. "You've seen me in action,
+and let me tell you you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's part,
+with a tray to carry on in act one and a couple of 'Yes, madam's' in act
+two, and I'm there! Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it comes to
+saying 'Yes, madam,' and I'm willing to back myself for gold, notes,
+or lima beans against Sarah Bernhardt as a tray-carrier. But there I
+finish. That lets me out. And anybody who thinks otherwise is going to
+lose a lot of money. Between ourselves the only thing I can do really
+well is to cook..."
+
+"My dear Gladys!" cried Fillmore revolted.
+
+"I'm a heaven-born cook, and I don't mind notifying the world to that
+effect. I can cook a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
+mother for it. Also my English pork-pies! One of these days I'll take
+an afternoon off and assemble one for you. You'd be surprised! But
+acting--no. I can't do it, and I don't want to do it. I only went on the
+stage for fun, and my idea of fun isn't to plough through a star part
+with all the critics waving their axes in the front row, and me knowing
+all the time that it's taking money out of Fillmore's bankroll that
+ought to be going towards buying the little home with stationary
+wash-tubs... Well, that's that, Fillmore, old darling. I thought I'd
+just mention it."
+
+Sally could not help being sorry for Fillmore. He was sitting with his
+chin on his hands, staring moodily before him--Napoleon at Elba. It was
+plain that this project of taking Miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
+and hurling her to the heights had been very near his heart.
+
+"If that's how you feel," he said in a stricken voice, "there is nothing
+more to say."
+
+"Oh, yes there is. We will now talk about this revue of yours. It's
+off!"
+
+Fillmore bounded to his feet; he thumped the desk with a well-nourished
+fist. A man can stand just so much.
+
+"It is not off! Great heavens! It's too much! I will not put up with
+this interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied and
+hampered. Here am I, a man of broad vision and... and... broad vision...
+I form my plans... my plans... I form them... I shape my schemes... and
+what happens? A horde of girls flock into my private office while I
+am endeavouring to concentrate... and concentrate... I won't stand it.
+Advice, yes. Interference, no. I... I... I... and kindly remember that!"
+
+The door closed with a bang. A fainter detonation announced the
+whirlwind passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down the
+corridor.
+
+Sally looked at Miss Winch, stunned. A roused and militant Fillmore was
+new to her.
+
+Miss Winch took out the stick of chewing-gum again and unwrapped it.
+
+"Isn't he cute!" she said. "I hope he doesn't get the soft kind," she
+murmured, chewing reflectively.
+
+"The soft kind."
+
+"He'll be back soon with a box of candy," explained Miss Winch, "and he
+will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the
+other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's
+beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard
+work to get that boy down to earth again." Miss Winch heaved a gentle
+sigh. "I should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to
+pay the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out." She bit
+meditatively on her chewing-gum. "Not," she said, "that it matters. I'd
+be just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore
+was there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him." Her freckled face
+glowed. "He grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
+I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's
+the most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love
+about him. That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps
+always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump.
+Tap his forehead first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the
+unhappy marriages come from the husband having brains. What good are
+brains to a man? They only unsettle him." She broke off and scrutinized
+Sally closely. "Say, what do you do with your skin?"
+
+She spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.
+
+"What do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me."
+
+"Well," said Miss Winch enviously, "I wish I could train my darned fool
+of a complexion to get that way. Freckles are the devil. When I was
+eight I had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
+adding to it right along. Some folks say lemon-juice'll cure 'em. Mine
+lap up all I give 'em and ask for more. There's only one way of getting
+rid of freckles, and that is to saw the head off at the neck."
+
+"But why do you want to get rid of them?"
+
+"Why? Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband's
+love, doesn't enjoy going about looking like something out of a dime
+museum."
+
+"How absurd! Fillmore worships freckles."
+
+"Did he tell you so?" asked Miss Winch eagerly.
+
+"Not in so many words, but you can see it in his eye."
+
+"Well, he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I
+will say that. And, what's more, I don't think feminine loveliness
+means much to Fillmore, or he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is
+calculated to give a girl a jar, you must admit, when she picks up a
+magazine and reads an advertisement of a face-cream beginning, 'Your
+husband is growing cold to you. Can you blame him? Have you really tried
+to cure those unsightly blemishes?'--meaning what I've got. Still, I
+haven't noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right."
+
+It was a subdued Sally who received Ginger when he called at her
+apartment a few days later on his return from Chicago. It seemed to her,
+thinking over the recent scene, that matters were even worse than
+she had feared. This absurd revue, which she had looked on as a mere
+isolated outbreak of foolishness, was, it would appear, only a specimen
+of the sort of thing her misguided brother proposed to do, a sample
+selected at random from a wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Fillmore,
+there was no longer any room for doubt, was preparing to express
+his great soul on a vast scale. And she could not dissuade him. A
+humiliating thought. She had grown so accustomed through the years to
+being the dominating mind that this revolt from her authority made her
+feel helpless and inadequate. Her self-confidence was shaken.
+
+And Bruce Carmyle was financing him... It was illogical, but Sally could
+not help feeling that when--she had not the optimism to say "if"--he
+lost his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him, as
+if the disaster had been her fault. She disliked, with a whole-hearted
+intensity, the thought of being under an obligation to Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Ginger said he had looked in to inspect the furniture on the chance that
+Sally might want it shifted again: but Sally had no criticisms to make
+on that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She sat Ginger
+down in the armchair and started to pour out her troubles. It soothed
+her to talk to him. In a world which had somehow become chaotic again
+after an all too brief period of peace, he was solid and consoling.
+
+"I shouldn't worry," observed Ginger with Winch-like calm, when she had
+finished drawing for him the picture of a Fillmore rampant against a
+background of expensive revues. Sally nearly shook him.
+
+"It's all very well to tell me not to worry," she cried. "How can I help
+worrying? Fillmore's simply a baby, and he's just playing the fool. He
+has lost his head completely. And I can't stop him! That is the awful
+part of it. I used to be able to look him in the eye, and he would
+wag his tail and crawl back into his basket, but now I seem to have no
+influence at all over him. He just snorts and goes on running round in
+circles, breathing fire."
+
+Ginger did not abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining.
+
+"I think you are making too much of all this, you know. I mean to say,
+it's quite likely he's found some mug... what I mean is, it's just
+possible that your brother isn't standing the entire racket himself.
+Perhaps some rich Johnnie has breezed along with a pot of money. It
+often happens like that, you know. You read in the paper that some
+manager or other is putting on some show or other, when really the chap
+who's actually supplying the pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in
+the background."
+
+"That is just what has happened, and it makes it worse than ever.
+Fillmore tells me that your cousin, Mr. Carmyle, is providing the
+money."
+
+This did interest Ginger. He sat up with a jerk.
+
+"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," said Sally, still agitated but pleased that she had at last
+shaken him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
+
+Ginger was scowling.
+
+"That's a bit off," he observed.
+
+"I think so, too."
+
+"I don't like that."
+
+"Nor do I."
+
+"Do you know what I think?" said Ginger, ever a man of plain speech and
+a reckless plunger into delicate subjects. "The blighter's in love with
+you."
+
+Sally flushed. After examining the evidence before her, she had reached
+the same conclusion in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed
+her to hear the thing put into bald words.
+
+"I know Bruce," continued Ginger, "and, believe me, he isn't the sort of
+cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly good motive. Of course,
+he's got tons of money. His old guvnor was the Carmyle of Carmyle, Brent
+& Co.--coal mines up in Wales, and all that sort of thing--and I suppose
+he must have left Bruce something like half a million. No need for the
+fellow to have worked at all, if he hadn't wanted to. As far as having
+the stuff goes, he's in a position to back all the shows he wants to.
+But the point is, it's right out of his line. He doesn't do that sort
+of thing. Not a drop of sporting blood in the chap. Why I've known him
+stick the whole family on to me just because it got noised about that
+I'd dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National. If he's really
+brought himself to the point of shelling out on a risky proposition like
+a show, it means something, take my word for it. And I don't see what
+else it can mean except... well, I mean to say, is it likely that he's
+doing it simply to make your brother look on him as a good egg and a
+pal, and all that sort of thing?"
+
+"No, it's not," agreed Sally. "But don't let's talk about it any more.
+Tell me all about your trip to Chicago."
+
+"All right. But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don't see
+how it matters to you one way or the other. You're engaged to another
+fellow, and when Bruce rolls up and says: 'What about it?' you've simply
+to tell him that the shot isn't on the board and will he kindly melt
+away. Then you hand him his hat and out he goes."
+
+Sally gave a troubled laugh.
+
+"You think that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl
+enjoys that sort of thing? Oh, what's the use of talking about it? It's
+horrible, and no amount of arguing will make it anything else. Do let's
+change the subject. How did you like Chicago?"
+
+"Oh, all right. Rather a grubby sort of place."
+
+"So I've always heard. But you ought not to mind that, being a
+Londoner."
+
+"Oh, I didn't mind it. As a matter of fact, I had rather a good time.
+Saw one or two shows, you know. Got in on my face as your brother's
+representative, which was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy how
+you run into people when you move about, isn't it?"
+
+"You talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
+shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?"
+
+"Chap I hadn't seen for years. Was at school with him, as a matter of
+fact. Fellow named Foster. But I expect you know him, too, don't you? By
+name, at any rate. He wrote your brother's show."
+
+Sally's heart jumped.
+
+"Oh! Did you meet Gerald--Foster?"
+
+"Ran into him one night at the theatre."
+
+"And you were really at school with him?"
+
+"Yes. He was in the footer team with me my last year."
+
+"Was he a scrum-half, too?" asked Sally, dimpling.
+
+Ginger looked shocked.
+
+"You don't have two scrum-halves in a team," he said, pained at this
+ignorance on a vital matter. "The scrum-half is the half who works the
+scrum and..."
+
+"Yes, you told me that at Roville. What was Gerald--Mr. Foster then? A
+six and seven-eighths, or something?"
+
+"He was a wing-three," said Ginger with a gravity befitting his theme.
+"Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve. But he would not learn to
+give the reverse pass inside to the centre."
+
+"Ghastly!" said Sally.
+
+"If," said Ginger earnestly, "a wing's bottled up by his wing and the
+back, the only thing he can do, if he doesn't want to be bundled into
+touch, is to give the reverse pass."
+
+"I know," said Sally. "If I've thought that once, I've thought it a
+hundred times. How nice it must have been for you meeting again. I
+suppose you had all sorts of things to talk about?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"Not such a frightful lot. We were never very thick. You see, this chap
+Foster was by way of being a bit of a worm."
+
+"What!"
+
+"A tick," explained Ginger. "A rotter. He was pretty generally barred at
+school. Personally, I never had any use for him at all."
+
+Sally stiffened. She had liked Ginger up to that moment, and later on,
+no doubt, she would resume her liking for him: but in the immediate
+moment which followed these words she found herself regarding him with
+stormy hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like that about
+Gerald?
+
+Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without a care in the world,
+proceeded to develop his theme.
+
+"It's a rummy thing about school. Generally, if a fellow's good at
+games--in the cricket team or the footer team and so forth--he
+can hardly help being fairly popular. But this blighter Foster
+somehow--nobody seemed very keen on him. Of course, he had a few of his
+own pals, but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss. It may have been
+because he was a bit sidey... had rather an edge on him, you know...
+Personally, the reason I barred him was because he wasn't straight.
+You didn't notice it if you weren't thrown a goodish bit with him, of
+course, but he and I were in the same house, and..."
+
+Sally managed to control her voice, though it shook a little.
+
+"I ought to tell you," she said, and her tone would have warned him had
+he been less occupied, "that Mr. Foster is a great friend of mine."
+
+But Ginger was intent on the lighting of his cigarette, a delicate
+operation with the breeze blowing in through the open window. His head
+was bent, and he had formed his hands into a protective framework which
+half hid his face.
+
+"If you take my tip," he mumbled, "you'll drop him. He's a wrong 'un."
+
+He spoke with the absent-minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sally could
+keep the conflagration under no longer. She was aflame from head to
+foot.
+
+"It may interest you to know," she said, shooting the words out like
+bullets from between clenched teeth, "that Gerald Foster is the man I am
+engaged to marry."
+
+Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands. Amazement was in his
+eyes, and a sort of horror. The cigarette hung limply from his mouth. He
+did not speak, but sat looking at her, dazed. Then the match burnt his
+fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The sharp sting of it seemed to
+wake him. He blinked.
+
+"You're joking," he said, feebly. There was a note of wistfulness in his
+voice. "It isn't true?"
+
+Sally kicked the leg of her chair irritably. She read insolent
+disapproval into the words. He was daring to criticize...
+
+"Of course it's true..."
+
+"But..." A look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face. He
+hesitated. Then, with the air of a man bracing himself to a dreadful,
+but unavoidable, ordeal, he went on. He spoke gruffly, and his eyes,
+which had been fixed on Sally's, wandered down to the match on the
+carpet. It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot on it.
+
+"Foster's married," he said shortly. "He was married the day before I
+left Chicago."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It seemed to Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over
+the room like a living presence, even the noises in the street had
+ceased, as though what he had said had been a spell cutting Sally
+and himself off from the outer world. Only the little clock on the
+mantelpiece ticked--ticked--ticked, like a heart beating fast.
+
+He stared straight before him, conscious of a strange rigidity. He felt
+incapable of movement, as he had sometimes felt in nightmares; and not
+for all the wealth of America could he have raised his eyes just then to
+Sally's face. He could see her hands. They had tightened on the arm of
+the chair. The knuckles were white.
+
+He was blaming himself bitterly now for his oafish clumsiness in
+blurting out the news so abruptly. And yet, curiously, in his remorse
+there was something of elation. Never before had he felt so near to her.
+It was as though a barrier that had been between them had fallen.
+
+Something moved... It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing. The fingers
+loosened their grip, tightened again, then, as if reluctantly relaxed
+once more. The blood flowed back.
+
+"Your cigarette's out."
+
+Ginger started violently. Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
+had struck him like a blow.
+
+"Oh, thanks!"
+
+He forced himself to light another match. It sputtered noisily in the
+stillness. He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
+
+Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically. For an instant he had seen
+Sally's face, white-cheeked and bright-eyed, the chin tilted like a flag
+flying over a stricken field. His mood changed. All his emotions had
+crystallized into a dull, futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man
+a thousand miles away.
+
+Sally spoke again. Her voice sounded small and far off, an odd flatness
+in it.
+
+"Married?"
+
+Ginger threw his cigarette out of the window. He was shocked to find
+that he was smoking. Nothing could have been farther from his intention
+than to smoke. He nodded.
+
+"Whom has he married?"
+
+Ginger coughed. Something was sticking in his throat, and speech was
+difficult.
+
+"A girl called Doland."
+
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Elsa Doland." Sally drummed with her fingers on the arm of the chair.
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+There was silence again. The little clock ticked fussily on the
+mantelpiece. Out in the street automobile horns were blowing. From
+somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated train.
+Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious, unreal sense
+of novelty. She felt as though she had been projected into another world
+where everything was new and strange and horrible--everything except
+Ginger. About him, in the mere sight of him, there was something known
+and heartening.
+
+Suddenly, she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was behaving
+extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out of herself and to be
+regarding the scene from outside, regarding it coolly and critically;
+and it was plain to her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
+bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy.
+He had said nothing and he was not looking at her. And Sally felt that
+sympathy just now would be torture, and that she could not have borne to
+be looked at.
+
+Ginger was wonderful. In that curious, detached spirit that had come
+upon her, she examined him impartially, and gratitude welled up from the
+very depths of her. There he sat, saying nothing and doing nothing, as
+if he knew that all she needed, the only thing that could keep her sane
+in this world of nightmare, was the sight of that dear, flaming head
+of his that made her feel that the world had not slipped away from her
+altogether.
+
+Ginger did not move. The room had grown almost dark now. A spear of
+light from a street lamp shone in through the window.
+
+Sally got up abruptly. Slowly, gradually, inch by inch, the great
+suffocating cloud which had been crushing her had lifted. She felt alive
+again. Her black hour had gone, and she was back in the world of
+living things once more. She was afire with a fierce, tearing pain that
+tormented her almost beyond endurance, but dimly she sensed the fact
+that she had passed through something that was worse than pain, and,
+with Ginger's stolid presence to aid her, had passed triumphantly.
+
+"Go and have dinner, Ginger," she said. "You must be starving."
+
+Ginger came to life like a courtier in the palace of the Sleeping
+Beauty. He shook himself, and rose stiffly from his chair.
+
+"Oh, no," he said. "Not a bit, really."
+
+Sally switched on the light and set him blinking. She could bear to be
+looked at now.
+
+"Go and dine," she said. "Dine lavishly and luxuriously. You've
+certainly earned..." Her voice faltered for a moment. She held out her
+hand. "Ginger," she said shakily, "I... Ginger, you're a pal."
+
+When he had gone. Sally sat down and began to cry. Then she dried her
+eyes in a business-like manner.
+
+"There, Miss Nicholas!" she said. "You couldn't have done that an hour
+ago... We will now boil you an egg for your dinner and see how that
+suits you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. SALLY RUNS AWAY
+
+
+
+If Ginger Kemp had been asked to enumerate his good qualities, it is not
+probable that he would have drawn up a very lengthy list. He might have
+started by claiming for himself the virtue of meaning well, but after
+that he would have had to chew the pencil in prolonged meditation. And,
+even if he could eventually have added one or two further items to the
+catalogue, tact and delicacy of feeling would not have been among them.
+
+Yet, by staying away from Sally during the next few days he showed
+considerable delicacy. It was not easy to stay away from her, but he
+forced himself to do so. He argued from his own tastes, and was strongly
+of opinion that in times of travail, solitude was what the sufferer most
+desired. In his time he, too, had had what he would have described as
+nasty jars, and on these occasions all he had asked was to be allowed to
+sit and think things over and fight his battle out by himself.
+
+By Saturday, however, he had come to the conclusion that some form of
+action might now be taken. Saturday was rather a good day for picking up
+the threads again. He had not to go to the office, and, what was still
+more to the point, he had just drawn his week's salary. Mrs. Meecher had
+deftly taken a certain amount of this off him, but enough remained to
+enable him to attempt consolation on a fairly princely scale. There
+presented itself to him as a judicious move the idea of hiring a car and
+taking Sally out to dinner at one of the road-houses he had heard about
+up the Boston Post Road. He examined the scheme. The more he looked at
+it, the better it seemed.
+
+He was helped to this decision by the extraordinary perfection of the
+weather. The weather of late had been a revelation to Ginger. It was his
+first experience of America's Indian Summer, and it had quite overcome
+him. As he stood on the roof of Mrs. Meecher's establishment on the
+Saturday morning, thrilled by the velvet wonder of the sunshine, it
+seemed to him that the only possible way of passing such a day was to
+take Sally for a ride in an open car.
+
+The Maison Meecher was a lofty building on one of the side-streets at
+the lower end of the avenue. From its roof, after you had worked
+your way through the groves of washing which hung limply from the
+clothes-line, you could see many things of interest. To the left
+lay Washington Square, full of somnolent Italians and roller-skating
+children; to the right was a spectacle which never failed to intrigue
+Ginger, the high smoke-stacks of a Cunard liner moving slowly down the
+river, sticking up over the house-tops as if the boat was travelling
+down Ninth Avenue.
+
+To-day there were four of these funnels, causing Ginger to deduce the
+Mauritania. As the boat on which he had come over from England, the
+Mauritania had a sentimental interest for him. He stood watching her
+stately progress till the higher buildings farther down the town shut
+her from his sight; then picked his way through the washing and went
+down to his room to get his hat. A quarter of an hour later he was
+in the hall-way of Sally's apartment house, gazing with ill-concealed
+disgust at the serge-clad back of his cousin Mr. Carmyle, who was
+engaged in conversation with a gentleman in overalls.
+
+No care-free prospector, singing his way through the Mojave Desert
+and suddenly finding himself confronted by a rattlesnake, could have
+experienced so abrupt a change of mood as did Ginger at this revolting
+spectacle. Even in their native Piccadilly it had been unpleasant to run
+into Mr. Carmyle. To find him here now was nothing short of nauseating.
+Only one thing could have brought him to this place. Obviously, he must
+have come to see Sally; and with a sudden sinking of the heart Ginger
+remembered the shiny, expensive automobile which he had seen waiting at
+the door. He, it was clear, was not the only person to whom the idea had
+occurred of taking Sally for a drive on this golden day.
+
+He was still standing there when Mr. Carmyle swung round with a frown
+on his dark face which seemed to say that he had not found the janitor's
+conversation entertaining. The sight of Ginger plainly did nothing to
+lighten his gloom.
+
+"Hullo!" he said.
+
+"Hullo!" said Ginger.
+
+Uncomfortable silence followed these civilities.
+
+"Have you come to see Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"She isn't here," said Mr. Carmyle, and the fact that he had found
+someone to share the bad news, seemed to cheer him a little.
+
+"Not here?"
+
+"No. Apparently..." Bruce Carmyle's scowl betrayed that resentment which
+a well-balanced man cannot but feel at the unreasonableness of others.
+"... Apparently, for some extraordinary reason, she has taken it into
+her head to dash over to England."
+
+Ginger tottered. The unexpectedness of the blow was crushing. He
+followed his cousin out into the sunshine in a sort of dream. Bruce
+Carmyle was addressing the driver of the expensive automobile.
+
+"I find I shall not want the car. You can take it back to the garage."
+
+The chauffeur, a moody man, opened one half-closed eye and spat
+cautiously. It was the way Rockefeller would have spat when approaching
+the crisis of some delicate financial negotiation.
+
+"You'll have to pay just the same," he observed, opening his other eye
+to lend emphasis to the words.
+
+"Of course I shall pay," snapped Mr. Carmyle, irritably. "How much is
+it?"
+
+Money passed. The car rolled off.
+
+"Gone to England?" said Ginger, dizzily.
+
+"Yes, gone to England."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"How the devil do I know why?" Bruce Carmyle would have found his best
+friend trying at this moment. Gaping Ginger gave him almost a physical
+pain. "All I know is what the janitor told me, that she sailed on the
+Mauretania this morning."
+
+The tragic irony of this overcame Ginger. That he should have stood on
+the roof, calmly watching the boat down the river...
+
+He nodded absently to Mr. Carmyle and walked off. He had no further
+remarks to make. The warmth had gone out of the sunshine and all
+interest had departed from his life. He felt dull, listless, at a loose
+end. Not even the thought that his cousin, a careful man with his money,
+had had to pay a day's hire for a car which he could not use brought him
+any balm. He loafed aimlessly about the streets. He wandered in the Park
+and out again. The Park bored him. The streets bored him. The whole
+city bored him. A city without Sally in it was a drab, futile city, and
+nothing that the sun could do to brighten it could make it otherwise.
+
+Night came at last, and with it a letter. It was the first even passably
+pleasant thing that had happened to Ginger in the whole of this dreary
+and unprofitable day: for the envelope bore the crest of the good ship
+Mauretania. He snatched it covetously from the letter-rack, and carried
+it upstairs to his room.
+
+Very few of the rooms at Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house struck any
+note of luxury. Mrs. Meecher was not one of your fashionable interior
+decorators. She considered that when she had added a Morris chair to the
+essentials which make up a bedroom, she had gone as far in the direction
+of pomp as any guest at seven-and-a-half per could expect her to go. As
+a rule, the severity of his surroundings afflicted Ginger with a touch
+of gloom when he went to bed; but to-night--such is the magic of a
+letter from the right person--he was uplifted and almost gay. There are
+moments when even illuminated texts over the wash-stand cannot wholly
+quell us.
+
+There was nothing of haste and much of ceremony in Ginger's method of
+approaching the perusal of his correspondence. He bore himself after the
+manner of a small boy in the presence of unexpected ice-cream, gloating
+for awhile before embarking on the treat, anxious to make it last out.
+His first move was to feel in the breast-pocket of his coat and produce
+the photograph of Sally which he had feloniously removed from her
+apartment. At this he looked long and earnestly before propping it
+up within easy reach against his basin, to be handy, if required, for
+purposes of reference. He then took off his coat, collar, and shoes,
+filled and lit a pipe, placed pouch and matches on the arm of the Morris
+chair, and drew that chair up so that he could sit with his feet on the
+bed. Having manoeuvred himself into a position of ease, he lit his pipe
+again and took up the letter. He looked at the crest, the handwriting of
+the address, and the postmark. He weighed it in his hand. It was a bulky
+letter.
+
+He took Sally's photograph from the wash-stand and scrutinized it once
+more. Then he lit his pipe again, and, finally, wriggling himself into
+the depths of the chair, opened the envelope.
+
+"Ginger, dear."
+
+Having read so far, Ginger found it necessary to take up the photograph
+and study it with an even greater intentness than before. He gazed at it
+for many minutes, then laid it down and lit his pipe again. Then he went
+on with the letter.
+
+"Ginger, dear--I'm afraid this address is going to give you rather a
+shock, and I'm feeling very guilty. I'm running away, and I haven't even
+stopped to say good-bye. I can't help it. I know it's weak and cowardly,
+but I simply can't help it. I stood it for a day or two, and then I
+saw that it was no good. (Thank you for leaving me alone and not coming
+round to see me. Nobody else but you would have done that. But then,
+nobody ever has been or ever could be so understanding as you.)"
+
+Ginger found himself compelled at this point to look at the photograph
+again.
+
+"There was too much in New York to remind me. That's the worst of being
+happy in a place. When things go wrong you find there are too many
+ghosts about. I just couldn't stand it. I tried, but I couldn't. I'm
+going away to get cured--if I can. Mr. Faucitt is over in England, and
+when I went down to Mrs. Meecher for my letters, I found one from him.
+His brother is dead, you know, and he has inherited, of all things,
+a fashionable dress-making place in Regent Street. His brother was
+Laurette et Cie. I suppose he will sell the business later on, but, just
+at present, the poor old dear is apparently quite bewildered and that
+doesn't seem to have occurred to him. He kept saying in his letter how
+much he wished I was with him, to help him, and I was tempted and ran.
+Anything to get away from the ghosts and have something to do. I don't
+suppose I shall feel much better in England, but, at least, every street
+corner won't have associations. Don't ever be happy anywhere, Ginger.
+It's too big a risk, much too big a risk.
+
+"There was a letter from Elsa Doland, too. Bubbling over with affection.
+We had always been tremendous friends. Of course, she never knew
+anything about my being engaged to Gerald. I lent Fillmore the money to
+buy that piece, which gave Elsa her first big chance, and so she's very
+grateful. She says, if ever she gets the opportunity of doing me a good
+turn... Aren't things muddled?
+
+"And there was a letter from Gerald. I was expecting one, of course,
+but... what would you have done, Ginger? Would you have read it? I sat
+with it in front of me for an hour, I should think, just looking at the
+envelope, and then... You see, what was the use? I could guess exactly
+the sort of thing that would be in it, and reading it would only have
+hurt a lot more. The thing was done, so why bother about explanations?
+What good are explanations, anyway? They don't help. They don't do
+anything... I burned it, Ginger. The last letter I shall ever get from
+him. I made a bonfire on the bathroom floor, and it smouldered and went
+brown, and then flared a little, and every now and then I lit another
+match and kept it burning, and at last it was just black ashes and a
+stain on the tiles. Just a mess!
+
+"Ginger, burn this letter, too. I'm pouring out all the poison to you,
+hoping it will make me feel better. You don't mind, do you? But I know
+you don't. If ever anybody had a real pal...
+
+"It's a dreadful thing, fascination, Ginger. It grips you and you are
+helpless. One can be so sensible and reasonable about other people's
+love affairs. When I was working at the dance place I told you about
+there was a girl who fell in love with the most awful little beast. He
+had a mean mouth and shiny black hair brushed straight back, and anybody
+would have seen what he was. But this girl wouldn't listen to a word.
+I talked to her by the hour. It makes me smile now when I think how
+sensible and level-headed I was. But she wouldn't listen. In some
+mysterious way this was the man she wanted, and, of course, everything
+happened that one knew would happen.
+
+"If one could manage one's own life as well as one can manage other
+people's! If all this wretched thing of mine had happened to some other
+girl, how beautifully I could have proved that it was the best thing
+that could have happened, and that a man who could behave as Gerald has
+done wasn't worth worrying about. I can just hear myself. But, you see,
+whatever he has done, Gerald is still Gerald and Sally is still Sally
+and, however much I argue, I can't get away from that. All I can do is
+to come howling to my redheaded pal, when I know just as well as he does
+that a girl of any spirit would be dignified and keep her troubles to
+herself and be much too proud to let anyone know that she was hurt.
+
+"Proud! That's the real trouble, Ginger. My pride has been battered and
+chopped up and broken into as many pieces as you broke Mr. Scrymgeour's
+stick! What pitiful creatures we are. Girls, I mean. At least, I suppose
+a good many girls are like me. If Gerald had died and I had lost him
+that way, I know quite well I shouldn't be feeling as I do now. I should
+have been broken-hearted, but it wouldn't have been the same. It's
+my pride that is hurt. I have always been a bossy, cocksure little
+creature, swaggering about the world like an English sparrow; and now
+I'm paying for it! Oh, Ginger, I'm paying for it! I wonder if running
+away is going to do me any good at all. Perhaps, if Mr. Faucitt has some
+real hard work for me to do...
+
+"Of course, I know exactly how all this has come about. Elsa's pretty
+and attractive. But the point is that she is a success, and as a success
+she appeals to Gerald's weakest side. He worships success. She is going
+to have a marvellous career, and she can help Gerald on in his. He can
+write plays for her to star in. What have I to offer against that? Yes,
+I know it's grovelling and contemptible of me to say that, Ginger. I
+ought to be above it, oughtn't I--talking as if I were competing for
+some prize... But I haven't any pride left. Oh, well!
+
+"There! I've poured it all out and I really do feel a little better
+just for the moment. It won't last, of course, but even a minute is
+something. Ginger, dear, I shan't see you for ever so long, even if we
+ever do meet again, but you'll try to remember that I'm thinking of
+you a whole lot, won't you? I feel responsible for you. You're my baby.
+You've got started now and you've only to stick to it. Please, please,
+please don't 'make a hash of it'! Good-bye. I never did find that
+photograph of me that we were looking for that afternoon in the
+apartment, or I would send it to you. Then you could have kept it on
+your mantelpiece, and whenever you felt inclined to make a hash of
+anything I would have caught your eye sternly and you would have pulled
+up.
+
+"Good-bye, Ginger. I shall have to stop now. The mail is just closing.
+
+"Always your pal, wherever I am.---SALLY."
+
+Ginger laid the letter down, and a little sound escaped him that was
+half a sigh, half an oath. He was wondering whether even now some
+desirable end might not be achieved by going to Chicago and breaking
+Gerald Foster's neck. Abandoning this scheme as impracticable, and
+not being able to think of anything else to do he re-lit his pipe and
+started to read the letter again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. SOME LETTERS FOR GINGER
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie,
+
+Regent Street,
+
+London, W.,
+
+England.
+
+
+
+January 21st.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I'm feeling better. As it's three months since I last
+wrote to you, no doubt you will say to yourself that I would be a poor,
+weak-minded creature if I wasn't. I suppose one ought to be able to get
+over anything in three months. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I haven't quite
+succeeded in doing that, but at least I have managed to get my troubles
+stowed away in the cellar, and I'm not dragging them out and looking at
+them all the time. That's something, isn't it?
+
+I ought to give you all my impressions of London, I suppose; but I've
+grown so used to the place that I don't think I have any now. I seem to
+have been here years and years.
+
+You will see by the address that Mr. Faucitt has not yet sold his
+inheritance. He expects to do so very soon, he tells me--there is a
+rich-looking man with whiskers and a keen eye whom he is always lunching
+with, and I think big deals are in progress. Poor dear! he is crazy to
+get away into the country and settle down and grow ducks and things.
+London has disappointed him. It is not the place it used to be. Until
+quite lately, when he grew resigned, he used to wander about in a
+disconsolate sort of way, trying to locate the landmarks of his youth.
+(He has not been in England for nearly thirty years!) The trouble is, it
+seems, that about once in every thirty years a sort of craze for change
+comes over London, and they paint a shop-front red instead of blue, and
+that upsets the returned exile dreadfully. Mr. Faucitt feels like Rip
+Van Winkle. His first shock was when he found that the Empire was a
+theatre now instead of a music-hall. Then he was told that another
+music-hall, the Tivoli, had been pulled down altogether. And when on top
+of that he went to look at the baker's shop in Rupert Street, over which
+he had lodgings in the eighties, and discovered that it had been turned
+into a dressmaker's, he grew very melancholy, and only cheered up a
+little when a lovely magenta fog came on and showed him that some things
+were still going along as in the good old days.
+
+I am kept quite busy at Laurette et Cie., thank goodness. (Not being a
+French scholar like you--do you remember Jules?--I thought at first that
+Cie was the name of the junior partner, and looked forward to meeting
+him. "Miss Nicholas, shake hands with Mr. Cie, one of your greatest
+admirers.") I hold down the female equivalent of your job at the
+Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.--that is to say, I'm a
+sort of right-hand woman. I hang around and sidle up to the customers
+when they come in, and say, "Chawming weather, moddom!" (which is
+usually a black lie) and pass them on to the staff, who do the actual
+work. I shouldn't mind going on like this for the next few years, but
+Mr. Faucitt is determined to sell. I don't know if you are like that,
+but every other Englishman I've ever met seems to have an ambition to
+own a house and lot in Loamshire or Hants or Salop or somewhere.
+Their one object in life is to make some money and "buy back the old
+place"--which was sold, of course, at the end of act one to pay the
+heir's gambling debts.
+
+Mr. Faucitt, when he was a small boy, used to live in a little village
+in Gloucestershire, near a place called Cirencester--at least, it isn't:
+it's called Cissister, which I bet you didn't know--and after forgetting
+about it for fifty years, he has suddenly been bitten by the desire to
+end his days there, surrounded by pigs and chickens. He took me down to
+see the place the other day. Oh, Ginger, this English country! Why any
+of you ever live in towns I can't think. Old, old grey stone houses with
+yellow haystacks and lovely squelchy muddy lanes and great fat trees and
+blue hills in the distance. The peace of it! If ever I sell my soul, I
+shall insist on the devil giving me at least forty years in some English
+country place in exchange.
+
+Perhaps you will think from all this that I am too much occupied to
+remember your existence. Just to show how interested I am in you, let
+me tell you that, when I was reading the paper a week ago, I happened to
+see the headline, "International Match." It didn't seem to mean anything
+at first, and then I suddenly recollected. This was the thing you had
+once been a snip for! So I went down to a place called Twickenham, where
+this football game was to be, to see the sort of thing you used to do
+before I took charge of you and made you a respectable right-hand man.
+There was an enormous crowd there, and I was nearly squeezed to death,
+but I bore it for your sake. I found out that the English team were the
+ones wearing white shirts, and that the ones in red were the Welsh. I
+said to the man next to me, after he had finished yelling himself
+black in the face, "Could you kindly inform me which is the English
+scrum-half?" And just at that moment the players came quite near where
+I was, and about a dozen assassins in red hurled themselves violently
+on top of a meek-looking little fellow who had just fallen on the ball.
+Ginger, you are well out of it! That was the scrum-half, and I gathered
+that that sort of thing was a mere commonplace in his existence.
+Stopping a rush, it is called, and he is expected to do it all the time.
+The idea of you ever going in for such brutal sports! You thank your
+stars that you are safe on your little stool in Fillmore's outer office,
+and that, if anybody jumps on top of you now, you can call a cop. Do you
+mean to say you really used to do these daredevil feats? You must have
+hidden depths in you which I have never suspected.
+
+As I was taking a ride down Piccadilly the other day on top of a bus, I
+saw somebody walking along who seemed familiar. It was Mr. Carmyle. So
+he's back in England again. He didn't see me, thank goodness. I don't
+want to meet anybody just at present who reminds me of New York.
+
+Thanks for telling me all the news, but please don't do it again. It
+makes me remember, and I don't want to. It's this way, Ginger. Let me
+write to you, because it really does relieve me, but don't answer my
+letters. Do you mind? I'm sure you'll understand.
+
+So Fillmore and Gladys Winch are married! From what I have seen of
+her, it's the best thing that has ever happened to Brother F. She is a
+splendid girl. I must write to him...
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie..
+
+London
+
+
+
+March 12th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I saw in a Sunday paper last week that "The Primrose Way"
+had been produced in New York, and was a great success. Well, I'm very
+glad. But I don't think the papers ought to print things like that. It's
+unsettling.
+
+Next day, I did one of those funny things you do when you're feeling
+blue and lonely and a long way away from everybody. I called at your
+club and asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk said
+in a fatherly way that you hadn't been in lately, and he rather fancied
+you were out of town, but would I take a seat while he inquired. He
+then summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the child skipped off
+chanting, "Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!" in a shrill treble. It gave me
+such an odd feeling to hear your name echoing in the distance. I felt so
+ashamed for giving them all that trouble; and when the boy came back
+I slipped twopence into his palm, which I suppose was against all the
+rules, though he seemed to like it.
+
+Mr. Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I am
+rather at a loose end...
+
+
+
+                                                 Monk's Crofton,
+                                                 (whatever that means)
+                                                 Much Middleford,
+                                                 Salop,
+                                                 (slang for Shropshire)
+                                                 England.
+
+
+
+April 18th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--What's the use? What is the use? I do all I can to get
+right away from New York, and New York comes after me and tracks me down
+in my hiding-place. A week or so ago, as I was walking down the Strand
+in an aimless sort of way, out there came right on top of me--who do you
+think? Fillmore, arm in arm with Mr. Carmyle! I couldn't dodge. In the
+first place, Mr. Carmyle had seen me; in the second place, it is a day's
+journey to dodge poor dear Fillmore now. I blushed for him. Ginger!
+Right there in the Strand I blushed for him. In my worst dreams I had
+never pictured him so enormous. Upon what meat doth this our Fillmore
+feed that he is grown so great? Poor Gladys! When she looks at him she
+must feel like a bigamist.
+
+Apparently Fillmore is still full of big schemes, for he talked airily
+about buying all sorts of English plays. He has come over, as I suppose
+you know, to arrange about putting on "The Primrose Way" over here. He
+is staying at the Savoy, and they took me off there to lunch, whooping
+joyfully as over a strayed lamb. It was the worst thing that could
+possibly have happened to me. Fillmore talked Broadway without a pause,
+till by the time he had worked his way past the French pastry and was
+lolling back, breathing a little stertorously, waiting for the coffee
+and liqueurs, he had got me so homesick that, if it hadn't been that I
+didn't want to make a public exhibition of myself, I should have broken
+down and howled. It was crazy of me ever to go near the Savoy. Of
+course, it's simply an annex to Broadway. There were Americans at every
+table as far as the eye could reach. I might just as well have been at
+the Astor.
+
+Well, if Fate insists in bringing New York to England for my special
+discomfiture, I suppose I have got to put up with it. I just let events
+take their course, and I have been drifting ever since. Two days ago
+I drifted here. Mr. Carmyle invited Fillmore--he seems to love
+Fillmore--and me to Monk's Crofton, and I hadn't even the shadow of an
+excuse for refusing. So I came, and I am now sitting writing to you in
+an enormous bedroom with an open fire and armchairs and every other sort
+of luxury. Fillmore is out golfing. He sails for New York on Saturday on
+the Mauretania. I am horrified to hear from him that, in addition to all
+his other big schemes, he is now promoting a fight for the light-weight
+championship in Jersey City, and guaranteeing enormous sums to both
+boxers. It's no good arguing with him. If you do, he simply quotes
+figures to show the fortunes other people have made out of these things.
+Besides, it's too late now, anyway. As far as I can make out, the fight
+is going to take place in another week or two. All the same, it makes my
+flesh creep.
+
+Well, it's no use worrying, I suppose. Let's change the subject. Do you
+know Monk's Crofton? Probably you don't, as I seem to remember hearing
+something said about it being a recent purchase. Mr. Carmyle bought it
+from some lord or other who had been losing money on the Stock Exchange.
+I hope you haven't seen it, anyway, because I want to describe it at
+great length. I want to pour out my soul about it. Ginger, what has
+England ever done to deserve such paradises? I thought, in my ignorance,
+that Mr. Faucitt's Cissister place was pretty good, but it doesn't even
+begin. It can't compete. Of course, his is just an ordinary country
+house, and this is a Seat. Monk's Crofton is the sort of place they used
+to write about in the English novels. You know. "The sunset was falling
+on the walls of G---- Castle, in B----shire, hard by the picturesque
+village of H----, and not a stone's throw from the hamlet of J----." I
+can imagine Tennyson's Maud living here. It is one of the stately homes
+of England; how beautiful they stand, and I'm crazy about it.
+
+You motor up from the station, and after you have gone about three
+miles, you turn in at a big iron gate with stone posts on each side with
+stone beasts on them. Close by the gate is the cutest little house with
+an old man inside it who pops out and touches his hat. This is only the
+lodge, really, but you think you have arrived; so you get all ready to
+jump out, and then the car goes rolling on for another fifty miles or so
+through beech woods full of rabbits and open meadows with deer in them.
+Finally, just as you think you are going on for ever, you whizz round a
+corner, and there's the house. You don't get a glimpse of it till then,
+because the trees are too thick.
+
+It's very large, and sort of low and square, with a kind of tower at
+one side and the most fascinating upper porch sort of thing with
+battlements. I suppose in the old days you used to stand on this and
+drop molten lead on visitors' heads. Wonderful lawns all round, and
+shrubberies and a lake that you can just see where the ground dips
+beyond the fields. Of course it's too early yet for them to be out, but
+to the left of the house there's a place where there will be about
+a million roses when June comes round, and all along the side of the
+rose-garden is a high wall of old red brick which shuts off the kitchen
+garden. I went exploring there this morning. It's an enormous place,
+with hot-houses and things, and there's the cunningest farm at one end
+with a stable yard full of puppies that just tear the heart out of you,
+they're so sweet. And a big, sleepy cat, which sits and blinks in
+the sun and lets the puppies run all over her. And there's a lovely
+stillness, and you can hear everything growing. And thrushes and
+blackbirds... Oh, Ginger, it's heavenly!
+
+But there's a catch. It's a case of "Where every prospect pleases and
+only man is vile." At least, not exactly vile, I suppose, but terribly
+stodgy. I can see now why you couldn't hit it off with the Family.
+Because I've seen 'em all! They're here! Yes, Uncle Donald and all of
+them. Is it a habit of your family to collect in gangs, or have I just
+happened to stumble into an accidental Old Home Week? When I came down
+to dinner the first evening, the drawing-room was full to bursting
+point--not simply because Fillmore was there, but because there were
+uncles and aunts all over the place. I felt like a small lion in a den
+of Daniels. I know exactly now what you mean about the Family. They look
+at you! Of course, it's all right for me, because I am snowy white clear
+through, but I can just imagine what it must have been like for you with
+your permanently guilty conscience. You must have had an awful time.
+
+By the way, it's going to be a delicate business getting this letter
+through to you--rather like carrying the despatches through the enemy's
+lines in a Civil War play. You're supposed to leave letters on the table
+in the hall, and someone collects them in the afternoon and takes them
+down to the village on a bicycle. But, if I do that some aunt or uncle
+is bound to see it, and I shall be an object of loathing, for it is no
+light matter, my lad, to be caught having correspondence with a human
+Jimpson weed like you. It would blast me socially. At least, so I gather
+from the way they behaved when your name came up at dinner last night.
+Somebody mentioned you, and the most awful roasting party broke loose.
+Uncle Donald acting as cheer-leader. I said feebly that I had met you
+and had found you part human, and there was an awful silence till they
+all started at the same time to show me where I was wrong, and how
+cruelly my girlish inexperience had deceived me. A young and innocent
+half-portion like me, it appears, is absolutely incapable of suspecting
+the true infamy of the dregs of society. You aren't fit to speak to the
+likes of me, being at the kindest estimate little more than a blot on
+the human race. I tell you this in case you may imagine you're popular
+with the Family. You're not.
+
+So I shall have to exercise a good deal of snaky craft in smuggling this
+letter through. I'll take it down to the village myself if I can sneak
+away. But it's going to be pretty difficult, because for some reason I
+seem to be a centre of attraction. Except when I take refuge in my
+room, hardly a moment passes without an aunt or an uncle popping out
+and having a cosy talk with me. It sometimes seems as though they were
+weighing me in the balance. Well, let 'em weigh!
+
+Time to dress for dinner now. Good-bye.
+
+Yours in the balance,
+
+Sally.
+
+P.S.--You were perfectly right about your Uncle Donald's moustache, but
+I don't agree with you that it is more his misfortune than his fault. I
+think he does it on purpose.
+
+
+
+                                                  (Just for the moment)
+                                                  Monk's Crofton,
+                                                  Much Middleford,
+                                                  Salop,
+                                                  England.
+
+
+
+April 20th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--Leaving here to-day. In disgrace. Hard, cold looks from
+the family. Strained silences. Uncle Donald far from chummy. You can
+guess what has happened. I might have seen it coming. I can see now that
+it was in the air all along.
+
+Fillmore knows nothing about it. He left just before it happened.
+I shall see him very soon, for I have decided to come back and stop
+running away from things any longer. It's cowardly to skulk about over
+here. Besides, I'm feeling so much better that I believe I can face
+the ghosts. Anyway, I'm going to try. See you almost as soon as you get
+this.
+
+I shall mail this in London, and I suppose it will come over by the same
+boat as me. It's hardly worth writing, really, of course, but I have
+sneaked up to my room to wait till the motor arrives to take me to the
+station, and it's something to do. I can hear muffled voices. The Family
+talking me over, probably. Saying they never really liked me all along.
+Oh, well!
+
+Yours moving in an orderly manner to the exit,
+
+Sally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally's emotions, as she sat in her apartment on the morning of her
+return to New York, resembled somewhat those of a swimmer who, after
+wavering on a raw morning at the brink of a chill pool, nerves himself
+to the plunge. She was aching, but she knew that she had done well. If
+she wanted happiness, she must fight for it, and for all these months
+she had been shirking the fight. She had done with wavering on the
+brink, and here she was, in mid-stream, ready for whatever might befall.
+It hurt, this coming to grips. She had expected it to hurt. But it was
+a pain that stimulated, not a dull melancholy that smothered. She felt
+alive and defiant.
+
+She had finished unpacking and tidying up. The next move was certainly
+to go and see Ginger. She had suddenly become aware that she wanted very
+badly to see Ginger. His stolid friendliness would be a support and a
+prop. She wished now that she had sent him a cable, so that he could
+have met her at the dock. It had been rather terrible at the dock.
+The echoing customs sheds had sapped her valour and she felt alone and
+forlorn.
+
+She looked at her watch, and was surprised to find how early it was. She
+could catch him at the office and make him take her out to lunch. She
+put on her hat and went out.
+
+The restless hand of change, always active in New York, had not spared
+the outer office of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. in
+the months of her absence. She was greeted on her arrival by an entirely
+new and original stripling in the place of the one with whom at her last
+visit she had established such cordial relations. Like his predecessor
+he was generously pimpled, but there the resemblance stopped. He was a
+grim boy, and his manner was stern and suspicious. He peered narrowly at
+Sally for a moment as if he had caught her in the act of purloining the
+office blotting-paper, then, with no little acerbity, desired her to
+state her business.
+
+"I want Mr. Kemp," said Sally.
+
+The office-boy scratched his cheek dourly with a ruler. No one would
+have guessed, so austere was his aspect, that a moment before her
+entrance he had been trying to balance it on his chin, juggling the
+while with a pair of paper-weights. For, impervious as he seemed
+to human weaknesses, it was this lad's ambition one day to go into
+vaudeville.
+
+"What name?" he said, coldly.
+
+"Nicholas," said Sally. "I am Mr. Nicholas' sister."
+
+On a previous occasion when she had made this announcement, disastrous
+results had ensued; but to-day it went well. It seemed to hit the
+office-boy like a bullet. He started convulsively, opened his mouth, and
+dropped the ruler. In the interval of stooping and recovering it he was
+able to pull himself together. He had not been curious about Sally's
+name. What he had wished was to have the name of the person for whom she
+was asking repeated. He now perceived that he had had a bit of luck.
+A wearying period of disappointment in the matter of keeping the
+paper-weights circulating while balancing the ruler, had left him
+peevish, and it had been his intention to work off his ill-humour on
+the young visitor. The discovery that it was the boss's sister who was
+taking up his time, suggested the advisability of a radical change of
+tactics. He had stooped with a frown: he returned to the perpendicular
+with a smile that was positively winning. It was like the sun suddenly
+bursting through a London fog.
+
+"Will you take a seat, lady?" he said, with polished courtesy even
+unbending so far as to reach out and dust one with the sleeve of his
+coat. He added that the morning was a fine one.
+
+"Thank you," said Sally. "Will you tell him I'm here."
+
+"Mr. Nicholas is out, miss," said the office-boy, with gentlemanly
+regret. "He's back in New York, but he's gone out."
+
+"I don't want Mr. Nicholas. I want Mr. Kemp."
+
+"Mr. Kemp?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Kemp."
+
+Sorrow at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy's
+face.
+
+"Don't know of anyone of that name around here," he said,
+apologetically.
+
+"But surely..." Sally broke off suddenly. A grim foreboding had come to
+her. "How long have you been here?" she asked.
+
+"All day, ma'am," said the office-boy, with the manner of a Casablanca.
+
+"I mean, how long have you been employed here?"
+
+"Just over a month, miss."
+
+"Hasn't Mr. Kemp been in the office all that time?"
+
+"Name's new to me, lady. Does he look like anything? I meanter say,
+what's he look like?"
+
+"He has very red hair."
+
+"Never seen him in here," said the office-boy. The truth shone coldly
+on Sally. She blamed herself for ever having gone away, and told herself
+that she might have known what would happen. Left to his own resources,
+the unhappy Ginger had once more made a hash of it. And this hash must
+have been a more notable and outstanding hash than any of his previous
+efforts, for, surely, Fillmore would not lightly have dismissed one who
+had come to him under her special protection.
+
+"Where is Mr. Nicholas?" she asked. It seemed to her that Fillmore was
+the only possible source of information. "Did you say he was out?"
+
+"Really out, miss," said the office-boy, with engaging candour. "He went
+off to White Plains in his automobile half-an-hour ago."
+
+"White Plains? What for?"
+
+The pimpled stripling had now given himself up wholeheartedly to
+social chit-chat. Usually he liked his time to himself and resented the
+intrusion of the outer world, for he who had chosen jugglery for
+his walk in life must neglect no opportunity of practising: but so
+favourable was the impression which Sally had made on his plastic mind
+that he was delighted to converse with her as long as she wished.
+
+"I guess what's happened is, he's gone up to take a look at Bugs
+Butler," he said.
+
+"Whose butler?" said Sally mystified.
+
+The office-boy smiled a tolerant smile. Though an admirer of the sex, he
+was aware that women were seldom hep to the really important things in
+life. He did not blame them. That was the way they were constructed, and
+one simply had to accept it.
+
+"Bugs Butler is training up at White Plains, miss."
+
+"Who is Bugs Butler?"
+
+Something of his former bleakness of aspect returned to the office-boy.
+Sally's question had opened up a subject on which he felt deeply.
+
+"Ah!" he replied, losing his air of respectful deference as he
+approached the topic. "Who is he! That's what they're all saying, all
+the wise guys. Who has Bugs Butler ever licked?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, for he had fixed her with a penetrating gaze
+and seemed to be pausing for a reply.
+
+"Nor nobody else," said the stripling vehemently. "A lot of stiffs out
+on the coast, that's all. Ginks nobody has ever heard of, except Cyclone
+Mullins, and it took that false alarm fifteen rounds to get a referee's
+decision over him. The boss would go and give him a chance against the
+champ, but I could have told him that the legitimate contender was
+K-leg Binns. K-leg put Cyclone Mullins out in the fifth. Well," said the
+office-boy in the overwrought tone of one chafing at human folly, "if
+anybody thinks Bugs Butler can last six rounds with Lew Lucas, I've two
+bucks right here in my vest pocket that says it ain't so."
+
+Sally began to see daylight.
+
+"Oh, Bugs--Mr. Butler is one of the boxers in this fight that my brother
+is interested in?"
+
+"That's right. He's going up against the lightweight champ. Lew Lucas is
+the lightweight champ. He's a bird!"
+
+"Yes?" said Sally. This youth had a way of looking at her with his head
+cocked on one side as though he expected her to say something.
+
+"Yes, sir!" said the stripling with emphasis. "Lew Lucas is a hot
+sketch. He used to live on the next street to me," he added as clinching
+evidence of his hero's prowess. "I've seen his old mother as close as
+I am to you. Say, I seen her a hundred times. Is any stiff of a Bugs
+Butler going to lick a fellow like that?"
+
+"It doesn't seem likely."
+
+"You spoke it!" said the lad crisply, striking unsuccessfully at a fly
+which had settled on the blotting-paper.
+
+There was a pause. Sally started to rise.
+
+"And there's another thing," said the office-boy, loath to close the
+subject. "Can Bugs Butler make a hundred and thirty-five ringside
+without being weak?"
+
+"It sounds awfully difficult."
+
+"They say he's clever." The expert laughed satirically. "Well,
+what's that going to get him? The poor fish can't punch a hole in a
+nut-sundae."
+
+"You don't seem to like Mr. Butler."
+
+"Oh, I've nothing against him," said the office-boy magnanimously. "I'm
+only saying he's no licence to be mixing it with Lew Lucas."
+
+Sally got up. Absorbing as this chat on current form was, more important
+matters claimed her attention.
+
+"How shall I find my brother when I get to White Plains?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, anybody'll show you the way to the training-camp. If you hurry,
+there's a train you can make now."
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+"You're welcome."
+
+He opened the door for her with an old-world politeness which disuse had
+rendered a little rusty: then, with an air of getting back to business
+after a pleasant but frivolous interlude, he took up the paper-weights
+once more and placed the ruler with nice care on his upturned chin.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Fillmore heaved a sigh of relief and began to sidle from the room. It
+was a large room, half barn, half gymnasium. Athletic appliances of
+various kinds hung on the walls and in the middle there was a wide
+roped-off space, around which a small crowd had distributed itself with
+an air of expectancy. This is a commercial age, and the days when a
+prominent pugilist's training activities used to be hidden from the
+public gaze are over. To-day, if the public can lay its hands on fifty
+cents, it may come and gaze its fill. This afternoon, plutocrats to the
+number of about forty had assembled, though not all of these, to the
+regret of Mr. Lester Burrowes, the manager of the eminent Bugs Butler,
+had parted with solid coin. Many of those present were newspaper
+representatives and on the free list--writers who would polish up Mr.
+Butler's somewhat crude prognostications as to what he proposed to do
+to Mr. Lew Lucas, and would report him as saying, "I am in really superb
+condition and feel little apprehension of the issue," and artists who
+would depict him in a state of semi-nudity with feet several sizes too
+large for any man.
+
+The reason for Fillmore's relief was that Mr. Burrowes, who was a great
+talker and had buttonholed him a quarter of an hour ago, had at last had
+his attention distracted elsewhere, and had gone off to investigate some
+matter that called for his personal handling, leaving Fillmore free to
+slide away to the hotel and get a bite to eat, which he sorely needed.
+The zeal which had brought him to the training-camp to inspect the final
+day of Mr. Butler's preparation--for the fight was to take place on the
+morrow--had been so great that he had omitted to lunch before leaving
+New York.
+
+So Fillmore made thankfully for the door. And it was at the door that he
+encountered Sally. He was looking over his shoulder at the moment, and
+was not aware of her presence till she spoke.
+
+"Hallo, Fillmore!"
+
+Sally had spoken softly, but a dynamite explosion could not have
+shattered her brother's composure with more completeness. In the leaping
+twist which brought him facing her, he rose a clear three inches from
+the floor. He had a confused sensation, as though his nervous system had
+been stirred up with a pole. He struggled for breath and moistened his
+lips with the tip of his tongue, staring at her continuously during the
+process.
+
+Great men, in their moments of weakness, are to be pitied rather than
+scorned. If ever a man had an excuse for leaping like a young ram,
+Fillmore had it. He had left Sally not much more than a week ago in
+England, in Shropshire, at Monk's Crofton. She had said nothing of any
+intention on her part of leaving the country, the county, or the house.
+Yet here she was, in Bugs Butler's training-camp at White Plains, in the
+State of New York, speaking softly in his ear without even going
+through the preliminary of tapping him on the shoulder to advertise her
+presence. No wonder that Fillmore was startled. And no wonder that, as
+he adjusted his faculties to the situation, there crept upon him a chill
+apprehension.
+
+For Fillmore had not been blind to the significance of that invitation
+to Monk's Crofton. Nowadays your wooer does not formally approach a
+girl's nearest relative and ask permission to pay his addresses; but,
+when he invites her and that nearest relative to his country home and
+collects all the rest of the family to meet her, the thing may be
+said to have advanced beyond the realms of mere speculation. Shrewdly
+Fillmore had deduced that Bruce Carmyle was in love with Sally, and
+mentally he had joined their hands and given them a brother's blessing.
+And now it was only too plain that disaster must have occurred. If the
+invitation could mean only one thing, so also could Sally's presence at
+White Plains mean only one thing.
+
+"Sally!" A croaking whisper was the best he could achieve. "What...
+what...?"
+
+"Did I startle you? I'm sorry."
+
+"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+Sally glanced past him at the ring and the crowd around it.
+
+"I decided I wanted to get back to America. Circumstances arose which
+made it pleasanter to leave Monk's Crofton."
+
+"Do you mean to say...?"
+
+"Yes. Don't let's talk about it."
+
+"Do you mean to say," persisted Fillmore, "that Carmyle proposed to you
+and you turned him down?"
+
+Sally flushed.
+
+"I don't think it's particularly nice to talk about that sort of thing,
+but--yes."
+
+A feeling of desolation overcame Fillmore. That conviction, which
+saddens us at all times, of the wilful bone-headedness of our fellows
+swept coldly upon him. Everything had been so perfect, the whole
+arrangement so ideal, that it had never occurred to him as a possibility
+that Sally might take it into her head to spoil it by declining to play
+the part allotted to her. The match was so obviously the best thing that
+could happen. It was not merely the suitor's impressive wealth that made
+him hold this opinion, though it would be idle to deny that the prospect
+of having a brother-in-lawful claim on the Carmyle bank-balance had cast
+a rosy glamour over the future as he had envisaged it. He honestly
+liked and respected the man. He appreciated his quiet and aristocratic
+reserve. A well-bred fellow, sensible withal, just the sort of husband
+a girl like Sally needed. And now she had ruined everything. With the
+capricious perversity which so characterizes her otherwise delightful
+sex, she had spilled the beans.
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Oh, Fill!" Sally had expected that realization of the facts would
+produce these symptoms in him, but now that they had presented
+themselves she was finding them rasping to the nerves. "I should have
+thought the reason was obvious."
+
+"You mean you don't like him?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not. I certainly don't like him enough to
+marry him."
+
+"He's a darned good fellow."
+
+"Is he? You say so. I don't know."
+
+The imperious desire for bodily sustenance began to compete successfully
+for Fillmore's notice with his spiritual anguish.
+
+"Let's go to the hotel and talk it over. We'll go to the hotel and I'll
+give you something to eat."
+
+"I don't want anything to eat, thanks."
+
+"You don't want anything to eat?" said Fillmore incredulously. He
+supposed in a vague sort of way that there were eccentric people of
+this sort, but it was hard to realize that he had met one of them. "I'm
+starving."
+
+"Well, run along then."
+
+"Yes, but I want to talk..."
+
+He was not the only person who wanted to talk. At the moment a small
+man of sporting exterior hurried up. He wore what his tailor's
+advertisements would have called a "nobbly" suit of checked tweed
+and--in defiance of popular prejudice--a brown bowler hat. Mr. Lester
+Burrowes, having dealt with the business which had interrupted their
+conversation a few minutes before, was anxious to resume his remarks
+on the subject of the supreme excellence in every respect of his young
+charge.
+
+"Say, Mr. Nicholas, you ain't going'? Bugs is just getting ready to
+spar."
+
+He glanced inquiringly at Sally.
+
+"My sister--Mr. Burrowes," said Fillmore faintly. "Mr. Burrowes is Bugs
+Butler's manager."
+
+"How do you do?" said Sally.
+
+"Pleased to meecher," said Mr. Burrowes. "Say..."
+
+"I was just going to the hotel to get something to eat," said Fillmore.
+
+Mr. Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with
+a glittering eye.
+
+"Yes, but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef'n. You've never seen
+this boy of mine, not when he was feeling right. Believe me, he's there!
+He's a wizard. He's a Hindoo! Say, he's been practising up a left shift
+that..."
+
+Fillmore's eye met Sally's wanly, and she pitied him. Presently she
+would require him to explain to her how he had dared to dismiss Ginger
+from his employment--and make that explanation a good one: but in the
+meantime she remembered that he was her brother and was suffering.
+
+"He's the cleverest lightweight," proceeded Mr. Burrowes fervently,
+"since Joe Gans. I'm telling you and I know! He..."
+
+"Can he make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without being weak?"
+asked Sally.
+
+The effect of this simple question on Mr. Burrowes was stupendous. He
+dropped away from Fillmore's coat-button like an exhausted bivalve,
+and his small mouth opened feebly. It was as if a child had suddenly
+propounded to an eminent mathematician some abstruse problem in the
+higher algebra. Females who took an interest in boxing had come into
+Mr. Burrowes' life before---in his younger days, when he was a famous
+featherweight, the first of his three wives had been accustomed to sit
+at the ringside during his contests and urge him in language of the
+severest technicality to knock opponents' blocks off--but somehow he had
+not supposed from her appearance and manner that Sally was one of the
+elect. He gaped at her, and the relieved Fillmore sidled off like a bird
+hopping from the compelling gaze of a snake. He was not quite sure that
+he was acting correctly in allowing his sister to roam at large among
+the somewhat Bohemian surroundings of a training-camp, but the instinct
+of self-preservation turned the scale. He had breakfasted early, and if
+he did not eat right speedily it seemed to him that dissolution would
+set in.
+
+"Whazzat?" said Mr. Burrowes feebly.
+
+"It took him fifteen rounds to get a referee's decision over Cyclone
+Mullins," said Sally severely, "and K-leg Binns..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes rallies.
+
+"You ain't got it right" he protested. "Say, you mustn't believe what
+you see in the papers. The referee was dead against us, and Cyclone was
+down once for all of half a minute and they wouldn't count him out. Gee!
+You got to kill a guy in some towns before they'll give you a decision.
+At that, they couldn't do nothing so raw as make it anything but a win
+for my boy, after him leading by a mile all the way. Have you ever seen
+Bugs, ma'am?"
+
+Sally had to admit that she had not had that privilege. Mr. Burrowes
+with growing excitement felt in his breast-pocket and produced a
+picture-postcard, which he thrust into her hand.
+
+"That's Bugs," he said. "Take a slant at that and then tell me if he
+don't look the goods."
+
+The photograph represented a young man in the irreducible minimum of
+clothing who crouched painfully, as though stricken with one of the
+acuter forms of gastritis.
+
+"I'll call him over and have him sign it for you," said Mr. Burrowes,
+before Sally had had time to grasp the fact that this work of art was a
+gift and no mere loan. "Here, Bugs--wantcher."
+
+A youth enveloped in a bath-robe, who had been talking to a group of
+admirers near the ring, turned, started languidly towards them, then,
+seeing Sally, quickened his pace. He was an admirer of the sex.
+
+Mr. Burrowes did the honours.
+
+"Bugs, this is Miss Nicholas, come to see you work out. I have been
+telling her she's going to have a treat." And to Sally. "Shake hands
+with Bugs Butler, ma'am, the coming lightweight champion of the world."
+
+Mr. Butler's photograph, Sally considered, had flattered him. He was, in
+the flesh, a singularly repellent young man. There was a mean and cruel
+curve to his lips and a cold arrogance in his eye; a something dangerous
+and sinister in the atmosphere he radiated. Moreover, she did not like
+the way he smirked at her.
+
+However, she exerted herself to be amiable.
+
+"I hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler," she said.
+
+The smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming
+champion's doubts, though they had never been serious. He was convinced
+now that he had made a hit. He always did, he reflected, with the girls.
+It was something about him. His chest swelled complacently beneath the
+bath-robe.
+
+"You betcher," he asserted briefly.
+
+Mr. Burrows looked at his watch.
+
+"Time you were starting, Bugs."
+
+The coming champion removed his gaze from Sally's face, into which he
+had been peering in a conquering manner, and cast a disparaging glance
+at the audience. It was far from being as large as he could have
+wished, and at least a third of it was composed of non-payers from the
+newspapers.
+
+"All right," he said, bored.
+
+His languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits
+revived somewhat. After all, small though the numbers of spectators
+might be, bright eyes would watch and admire him.
+
+"I'll go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter," he said. "Seen
+him anywheres? He's never around when he's wanted."
+
+"I'll fetch him," said Mr. Burrowes. "He's back there somewheres."
+
+"I'm going to show that guy up this afternoon," said Mr. Butler coldly.
+"He's been getting too fresh."
+
+The manager bustled off, and Bugs Butler, with a final smirk, left Sally
+and dived under the ropes. There was a stir of interest in the audience,
+though the newspaper men, blase through familiarity, exhibited no
+emotion. Presently Mr. Burrowes reappeared, shepherding a young man
+whose face was hidden by the sweater which he was pulling over his head.
+He was a sturdily built young man. The sweater, moving from his body,
+revealed a good pair of shoulders.
+
+A last tug, and the sweater was off. Red hair flashed into view, tousled
+and disordered: and, as she saw it, Sally uttered an involuntary gasp
+of astonishment which caused many eyes to turn towards her. And the
+red-headed young man, who had been stooping to pick up his gloves,
+straightened himself with a jerk and stood staring at her blankly and
+incredulously, his face slowly crimsoning.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was the energetic Mr. Burrowes who broke the spell.
+
+"Come on, come on," he said impatiently. "Li'l speed there, Reddy."
+
+Ginger Kemp started like a sleep-walker awakened; then recovering
+himself, slowly began to pull on the gloves. Embarrassment was stamped
+on his agreeable features. His face matched his hair.
+
+Sally plucked at the little manager's elbow. He turned irritably, but
+beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source of the
+interruption.
+
+"Who--him?" he said in answer to Sally's whispered question. "He's just
+one of Bugs' sparring-partners."
+
+"But..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted
+her.
+
+"You'll excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch. We mustn't waste
+any time."
+
+Sally drew back. She felt like an infidel who intrudes upon the
+celebration of strange rites. This was Man's hour, and women must keep
+in the background. She had the sensation of being very small and yet
+very much in the way, like a puppy who has wandered into a church. The
+novelty and solemnity of the scene awed her.
+
+She looked at Ginger, who with averted gaze was fiddling with his
+clothes in the opposite corner of the ring. He was as removed from
+communication as if he had been in another world. She continued to
+stare, wide-eyed, and Ginger, shuffling his feet self-consciously,
+plucked at his gloves.
+
+Mr. Butler, meanwhile, having doffed his bath-robe, stretched himself,
+and with leisurely nonchalance put on a second pair of gloves, was
+filling in the time with a little shadow boxing. He moved rhythmically
+to and fro, now ducking his head, now striking out with his muffled
+hands, and a sickening realization of the man's animal power swept over
+Sally and turned her cold. Swathed in his bath-robe, Bugs Butler had
+conveyed an atmosphere of dangerousness: in the boxing-tights which
+showed up every rippling muscle, he was horrible and sinister, a machine
+built for destruction, a human panther.
+
+So he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at
+her side was not equally impressed. Obviously one of the Wise Guys
+of whom her friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly
+dissatisfied with the exhibition.
+
+"Shadow-boxing," he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion.
+"Yes, he can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain't got
+a partner to get in the way. But one good wallop, and then watch him."
+
+His friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a
+curt nod.
+
+"Ah!" he agreed.
+
+"Lew Lucas," said the first wise guy, "is just as shifty, and he can
+punch."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+"Just because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners," said
+the first wise guy disparagingly, "he thinks he's someone."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+As far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which
+was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring. For a comforting
+moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to be devoured by
+a lion. Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so formidable as he appeared.
+But her relief was not to be long-lived.
+
+"Of course he'll eat this red-headed gink," went on the first wise guy.
+"That's the thing he does best, killing his sparring-partners. But Lew
+Lucas..."
+
+Sally was not interested in Lew Lucas. That numbing fear had come back
+to her. Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had
+plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger. She tried to tear
+herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her there
+standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring forlornly
+into the ring.
+
+"Ready, Bugs?" asked Mr. Burrowes.
+
+The coming champion nodded carelessly.
+
+"Go to it," said Mr. Burrowes.
+
+Ginger ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Of all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained
+expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler. In other fields
+the amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with the man
+who has made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at boxing
+never: and the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he had laid
+this truth to heart. It would be too little to say that his bearing
+was confident: he comported himself with the care-free jauntiness of
+an infant about to demolish a Noah's Ark with a tack-hammer. Cyclone
+Mullinses might withstand him for fifteen rounds where they yielded to
+a K-leg Binns in the fifth, but, when it came to beating up a
+sparring-partner and an amateur at that, Bugs Butler knew his
+potentialities. He was there forty ways and he did not attempt to
+conceal it. Crouching as was his wont, he uncoiled himself like a
+striking rattlesnake and flicked Ginger lightly over his guard. Then
+he returned to his crouch and circled sinuously about the ring with the
+amiable intention of showing the crowd, payers and deadheads alike, what
+real footwork was. If there was one thing on which Bugs Butler prided
+himself, it was footwork.
+
+The adverb "lightly" is a relative term, and the blow which had just
+planted a dull patch on Ginger's cheekbone affected those present in
+different degrees. Ginger himself appeared stolidly callous. Sally
+shuddered to the core of her being and had to hold more tightly to the
+rope to support herself. The two wise guys mocked openly. To the
+wise guys, expert connoisseurs of swat, the thing had appeared richly
+farcical. They seemed to consider the blow, administered to a third
+party and not to themselves, hardly worth calling a blow at all. Two
+more, landing as quickly and neatly as the first, left them equally
+cold.
+
+"Call that punching?" said the first wise guy.
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+But Mr. Butler, if he heard this criticism--and it is probable that he
+did--for the wise ones had been restrained by no delicacy of feeling
+from raising their voices, was in no way discommoded by it. Bugs Butler
+knew what he was about. Bright eyes were watching him, and he meant to
+give them a treat. The girls like smooth work. Any roughneck could sail
+into a guy and knock the daylights out of him, but how few could be
+clever and flashy and scientific? Few, few, indeed, thought Mr. Butler
+as he slid in and led once more.
+
+Something solid smote Mr. Butler's nose, rocking him on to his heels and
+inducing an unpleasant smarting sensation about his eyes. He backed
+away and regarded Ginger with astonishment, almost with pain. Until this
+moment he had scarcely considered him as an active participant in the
+scene at all, and he felt strongly that this sort of thing was bad form.
+It was not being done by sparring-partners.
+
+A juster man might have reflected that he himself was to blame. He had
+undeniably been careless. In the very act of leading he had allowed his
+eyes to flicker sideways to see how Sally was taking this exhibition of
+science, and he had paid the penalty. Nevertheless, he was piqued. He
+shimmered about the ring, thinking it over. And the more he thought it
+over, the less did he approve of his young assistant's conduct. Hard
+thoughts towards Ginger began to float in his mind.
+
+Ginger, too, was thinking hard thoughts. He had not had an easy time
+since he had come to the training camp, but never till to-day had he
+experienced any resentment towards his employer. Until this afternoon
+Bugs Butler had pounded him honestly and without malice, and he had gone
+through it, as the other sparring-partners did, phlegmatically, taking
+it as part of the day's work. But this afternoon there had been a
+difference. Those careless flicks had been an insult, a deliberate
+offence. The man was trying to make a fool of him, playing to the
+gallery: and the thought of who was in that gallery inflamed Ginger past
+thought of consequences. No one, not even Mr. Butler, was more keenly
+alive than he to the fact that in a serious conflict with a man who
+to-morrow night might be light-weight champion of the world he stood no
+chance whatever: but he did not intend to be made an exhibition of in
+front of Sally without doing something to hold his end up. He proposed
+to go down with his flag flying, and in pursuance of this object he dug
+Mr. Butler heavily in the lower ribs with his right, causing that expert
+to clinch and the two wise guys to utter sharp barking sounds expressive
+of derision.
+
+"Say, what the hell d'ya think you're getting at?" demanded the
+aggrieved pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger's ear as they fell into
+the embrace. "What's the idea, you jelly bean?"
+
+Ginger maintained a pink silence. His jaw was set, and the temper which
+Nature had bestowed upon him to go with his hair had reached white
+heat. He dodged a vicious right which whizzed up at his chin out of the
+breaking clinch, and rushed. A left hook shook him, but was too high
+to do more. There was rough work in the far corner, and suddenly with
+startling abruptness Bugs Butler, bothered by the ropes at his back and
+trying to side-step, ran into a swing and fell.
+
+"Time!" shouted the scandalized Mr. Burrowes, utterly aghast at
+this frightful misadventure. In the whole course of his professional
+experience he could recall no such devastating occurrence.
+
+The audience was no less startled. There was audible gasping. The
+newspaper men looked at each other with a wild surmise and conjured up
+pleasant pictures of their sporting editors receiving this sensational
+item of news later on over the telephone. The two wise guys, continuing
+to pursue Mr. Butler with their dislike, emitted loud and raucous
+laughs, and one of them, forming his hands into a megaphone, urged the
+fallen warrior to go away and get a rep. As for Sally, she was conscious
+of a sudden, fierce, cave-womanly rush of happiness which swept away
+completely the sickening qualms of the last few minutes. Her teeth
+were clenched and her eyes blazed with joyous excitement. She looked
+at Ginger yearningly, longing to forget a gentle upbringing and shout
+congratulation to him. She was proud of him. And mingled with the pride
+was a curious feeling that was almost fear. This was not the mild and
+amiable young man whom she was wont to mother through the difficulties
+of a world in which he was unfitted to struggle for himself. This was a
+new Ginger, a stranger to her.
+
+On the rare occasions on which he had been knocked down in the past,
+it had been Bugs Butler's canny practice to pause for a while and rest
+before rising and continuing the argument, but now he was up almost
+before he had touched the boards, and the satire of the second wise guy,
+who had begun to saw the air with his hand and count loudly, lost its
+point. It was only too plain that Mr. Butler's motto was that a man
+may be down, but he is never out. And, indeed, the knock-down had been
+largely a stumble. Bugs Butler's educated feet, which had carried him
+unscathed through so many contests, had for this single occasion managed
+to get themselves crossed just as Ginger's blow landed, and it was to
+his lack of balance rather than the force of the swing that his downfall
+had been due.
+
+"Time!" he snarled, casting a malevolent side-glance at his manager.
+"Like hell it's time!"
+
+And in a whirlwind of flying gloves he flung himself upon Ginger,
+driving him across the ring, while Mr. Burrowes, watch in hand, stared
+with dropping jaw. If Ginger had seemed a new Ginger to Sally, still
+more did this seem a new Bugs Butler to Mr. Burrowes, and the manager
+groaned in spirit. Coolness, skill and science--these had been the
+qualities in his protege which had always so endeared him to Mr. Lester
+Burrowes and had so enriched their respective bank accounts: and now, on
+the eve of the most important fight in his life, before an audience of
+newspaper men, he had thrown them all aside and was making an exhibition
+of himself with a common sparring-partner.
+
+That was the bitter blow to Mr. Burrowes. Had this lapse into the
+unscientific primitive happened in a regular fight, he might have
+mourned and poured reproof into Bug's ear when he got him back in his
+corner at the end of the round; but he would not have experienced this
+feeling of helpless horror--the sort of horror an elder of the church
+might feel if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the
+fascination of jazz. It was the fact that Bugs Butler was lowering
+himself to extend his powers against a sparring-partner that shocked Mr.
+Burrowes. There is an etiquette in these things. A champion may batter
+his sparring-partners into insensibility if he pleases, but he must do
+it with nonchalance. He must not appear to be really trying.
+
+And nothing could be more manifest than that Bugs Butler was trying. His
+whole fighting soul was in his efforts to corner Ginger and destroy him.
+The battle was raging across the ring and down the ring, and up the ring
+and back again; yet always Ginger, like a storm-driven ship, contrived
+somehow to weather the tempest. Out of the flurry of swinging arms he
+emerged time after time bruised, bleeding, but fighting hard.
+
+For Bugs Butler's fury was defeating its object. Had he remained his
+cool and scientific self, he could have demolished Ginger and cut
+through his defence in a matter of seconds. But he had lapsed back into
+the methods of his unskilled novitiate. He swung and missed, swung and
+missed again, struck but found no vital spot. And now there was blood on
+his face, too. In some wild melee the sacred fount had been tapped, and
+his teeth gleamed through a crimson mist.
+
+The Wise Guys were beyond speech. They were leaning against one another,
+punching each other feebly in the back. One was crying.
+
+And then suddenly the end came, as swiftly and unexpectedly as the
+thing had begun. His wild swings had tired Bugs Butler, and with fatigue
+prudence returned to him. His feet began once more their subtle weaving
+in and out. Twice his left hand flickered home. A quick feint, a short,
+jolting stab, and Ginger's guard was down and he was swaying in the
+middle of the ring, his hands hanging and his knees a-quiver.
+
+Bugs Butler measured his distance, and Sally shut her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. MR. ABRAHAMS RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringing
+happiness to others. Bugs Butler's mood, accordingly, when some thirty
+hours after the painful episode recorded in the last chapter he awoke
+from a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to discover that Mr. Lew
+Lucas had knocked him out in the middle of the third round, should have
+been one of quiet contentment. His inability to block a short left-hook
+followed by a right to the point of the jaw had ameliorated quite a
+number of existences.
+
+Mr. Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased. So were Mr. Lucas's
+seconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him. And most of the crowd,
+who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted. Yet Bugs Butler
+did not rejoice. It is not too much to say that his peevish bearing
+struck a jarring note in the general gaiety. A heavy frown disfigured
+his face as he slouched from the ring.
+
+But the happiness which he had spread went on spreading. The two Wise
+Guys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received the
+result on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer
+by five hundred dollars. The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. caused remark in the Subway by whooping
+gleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for he, too, had
+been rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr. Butler's chin. And
+it was with fierce satisfaction that Sally, breakfasting in her little
+apartment, informed herself through the sporting page of the details of
+the contender's downfall. She was not a girl who disliked many people,
+but she had acquired a lively distaste for Bugs Butler.
+
+Lew Lucas seemed a man after her own heart. If he had been a personal
+friend of Ginger's he could not, considering the brief time at his
+disposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness. In round one he had
+done all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler's left eye: in round
+two he had continued the good work on that gentleman's body; and in
+round three he had knocked him out. Could anyone have done more? Sally
+thought not, and she drank Lew Lucas's health in a cup of coffee and
+hoped his old mother was proud of him.
+
+The telephone bell rang at her elbow. She unhooked the receiver.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+"Oh, hullo," said a voice.
+
+"Ginger!" cried Sally delightedly.
+
+"I say, I'm awfully glad you're back. I only got your letter this
+morning. Found it at the boarding-house. I happened to look in there
+and..."
+
+"Ginger," interrupted Sally, "your voice is music, but I want to see
+you. Where are you?"
+
+"I'm at a chemist's shop across the street. I was wondering if..."
+
+"Come here at once!"
+
+"I say, may I? I was just going to ask."
+
+"You miserable creature, why haven't you been round to see me before?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been going about much for the last
+day. You see..."
+
+"I know. Of course." Quick sympathy came into Sally's voice. She gave
+a sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the large picture of Lew
+Lucas which beamed up at her from the morning paper. "You poor thing!
+How are you?"
+
+"Oh, all right, thanks."
+
+"Well, hurry."
+
+There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.
+
+"I say."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I'm not much to look at, you know."
+
+"You never were. Stop talking and hurry over."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+Sally hung up the receiver firmly. She waited eagerly for some minutes,
+and then footsteps came along the passage. They stopped at her door and
+the bell rang. Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and recoiled in
+consternation.
+
+"Oh, Ginger!"
+
+He had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not much
+to look at. He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right eye,
+but the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull purple.
+A great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with some
+difficulty through swollen lips.
+
+"It's all right, you know," he assured her.
+
+"It isn't. It's awful! Oh, you poor darling!" She clenched her teeth
+viciously. "I wish he had killed him!"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him. Brute!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know, you know." Ginger's sense of fairness compelled him
+to defend his late employer against these harsh sentiments. "He isn't a
+bad sort of chap, really. Bugs Butler, I mean."
+
+"Do you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don't loathe the
+creature?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right. See his point of view and all that. Can't blame
+him, if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit in the
+circs. Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at him like
+that. Naturally he didn't think it much of a wheeze. It was my fault
+right along. Oughtn't to have done it, of course, but somehow, when he
+started making an ass of me and I knew you were looking on... well, it
+seemed a good idea to have a dash at doing something on my own. No right
+to, of course. A sparring-partner isn't supposed..."
+
+"Sit down," said Sally.
+
+Ginger sat down.
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "you're too good to live."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+"I believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chain
+you'd say there were faults on both sides or something. I'm just a cat,
+and I say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished miserably.
+I'd have gone and danced on his grave... But whatever made you go in for
+that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it seemed the only job that was going at the moment. I've always
+done a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and it looked
+to me rather an opening. Gave me something to get along with. You get
+paid quite fairly decently, you know, and it's rather a jolly life..."
+
+"Jolly? Being hammered about like that?"
+
+"Oh, you don't notice it much. I've always enjoyed scrapping rather.
+And, you see, when your brother gave me the push..."
+
+Sally uttered an exclamation.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing it is--I went all the way out to White
+Plains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and I
+didn't say a word about it. And I haven't seen or been able to get hold
+of him since."
+
+"No? Busy sort of cove, your brother."
+
+"Why did Fillmore let you go?"
+
+"Let me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up. A kind of
+misunderstanding."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+"Oh, it was nothing. Just a..."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment. He looked
+awkwardly about the room.
+
+"It's not worth talking about."
+
+"It is worth talking about. I've a right to know. It was I who sent you
+to Fillmore..."
+
+"Now that," said Ginger, "was jolly decent of you."
+
+"Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let
+you go without saying a word to me. What happened?"
+
+Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily.
+
+"Well, it was rather unfortunate. You see, his wife--I don't know if you
+know her?..."
+
+"Of course I know her."
+
+"Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean,"
+said Ginger acutely. "Though, as a matter of fact, you often find
+sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a
+fellow..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "it's no good your thinking you can get out of
+telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and
+relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a
+corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying..."
+
+Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme.
+
+"Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling
+about..."
+
+"Fooling about?"
+
+"Well, kind of chivvying each other."
+
+"Chivvying?"
+
+"At least I was."
+
+"You were what?"
+
+"Sort of chasing her a bit, you know."
+
+Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Ginger's embarrassment increased.
+
+"The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when
+I happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was there
+till she suddenly grabbed it..."
+
+"Grabbed what?"
+
+"The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it...
+collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back
+and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy
+her to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened
+to roll in. I suppose," said Ginger, putting two and two together, "he
+had really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for
+a minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he
+was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife.
+Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it," said Ginger, ever
+fair-minded. "Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but a bit later
+in the day he called me in and administered the push."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took
+from you?"
+
+"Oh, just something."
+
+Sally rapped the table imperiously.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said her goaded visitor, "It was a
+photograph."
+
+"Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?"
+
+"Well... you, to be absolutely accurate."
+
+"Me?" Sally stared. "But I've never given you a photograph of myself."
+
+Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple.
+
+"You didn't exactly give it to me," he mumbled. "When I say give, I
+mean..."
+
+"Good gracious!" Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally. "That photograph
+we were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen it all the
+time?"
+
+"Why, yes, I did sort of pinch it..."
+
+"You fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it." She
+gazed at him almost with respect. "I never knew you were so deep and
+snaky. I'm discovering all sorts of new things about you."
+
+There was a brief silence. Ginger, confession over, seemed a trifle
+happier.
+
+"I hope you're not frightfully sick about it?" he said at length. "It
+was lying about, you know, and I rather felt I must have it. Hadn't the
+cheek to ask you for it, so..."
+
+"Don't apologize," said Sally cordially. "Great compliment. So I have
+caused your downfall again, have I? I'm certainly your evil genius,
+Ginger. I'm beginning to feel like a regular rag and a bone and a hank
+of hair. First I egged you on to insult your family--oh, by the way, I
+want to thank you about that. Now that I've met your Uncle Donald I can
+see how public-spirited you were. I ruined your prospects there, and now
+my fatal beauty--cabinet size--has led to your destruction once more.
+It's certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that."
+
+"No, really, I say, you mustn't bother. I shall be all right."
+
+"It's my duty. Now what is there that you really can do? Burglary, of
+course, but it's not respectable. You've tried being a waiter and a
+prize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those seems to be just
+right. Can't you suggest anything?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"I shall wangle something, I expect."'
+
+"Yes, but what? It must be something good this time. I don't want to be
+walking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a street-cleaner. I
+don't want to send for an express-man and find you popping up. My
+idea would be to go to my bank to arrange an overdraft and be told the
+president could give me two minutes and crawl in humbly and find you
+prezzing away to beat the band in a big chair. Isn't there anything in
+the world that you can do that's solid and substantial and will keep you
+out of the poor-house in your old age? Think!"
+
+"Of course, if I had a bit of capital..."
+
+"Ah! The business man! And what," inquired Sally, "would you do, Mr.
+Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?"
+
+"Run a dog-thingummy," said Ginger promptly.
+
+"What's a dog-thingummy?"
+
+"Why, a thingamajig. For dogs, you know."
+
+Sally nodded.
+
+"Oh, a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand. You will put things so
+obscurely at first. Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving about?
+What on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?"
+
+"I mean a sort of place like fellows have. Breeding dogs, you know, and
+selling them and winning prizes and all that. There are lots of them
+about."
+
+"Oh, a kennels?"
+
+"Yes, a kennels."
+
+"What a weird mind you have, Ginger. You couldn't say kennels at first,
+could you? That wouldn't have made it difficult enough. I suppose, if
+anyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would say, 'Oh, at a
+thingamajig for mutton chops'... Ginger, my lad, there is something in
+this. I believe for the first time in our acquaintance you have spoken
+something very nearly resembling a mouthful. You're wonderful with dogs,
+aren't you?"
+
+"I'm dashed keen on them, and I've studied them a bit. As a matter of
+fact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn't much about dogs
+that I don't know."
+
+"Of course. I believe you're a sort of honorary dog yourself. I could
+tell it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville. You plunged into a
+howling mass of about a million hounds of all species and just whispered
+in their ears and they stopped at once. Why, the more one examines this,
+the better it looks. I do believe it's the one thing you couldn't help
+making a success of. It's very paying, isn't it?"
+
+"Works out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I've been
+told."
+
+"A hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore's
+for comfort. Let's say ninety-nine and be conservative. Ginger, you
+have hit it. Say no more. You shall be the Dog King, the biggest
+thingamajigger for dogs in the country. But how do you start?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into
+a cove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out. That was what
+made me think of it."
+
+"You must start to-day. Or early to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," said Ginger doubtfully. "Of course, there's the catch, you know."
+
+"What catch?"
+
+"The capital. You've got to have that. This fellow wouldn't sell out
+under five thousand dollars."
+
+"I'll lend you five thousand dollars."
+
+"No!" said Ginger.
+
+Sally looked at him with exasperation. "Ginger, I'd like to slap you,"
+she said. It was maddening, this intrusion of sentiment into business
+affairs. Why, simply because he was a man and she was a woman,
+should she be restrained from investing money in a sound commercial
+undertaking? If Columbus had taken up this bone-headed stand towards
+Queen Isabella, America would never have been discovered.
+
+"I can't take five thousand dollars off you," said Ginger firmly.
+
+"Who's talking of taking it off me, as you call it?" stormed Sally.
+"Can't you forget your burglarious career for a second? This isn't the
+same thing as going about stealing defenceless girls' photographs. This
+is business. I think you would make an enormous success of a dog-place,
+and you admit you're good, so why make frivolous objections? Why
+shouldn't I put money into a good thing? Don't you want me to get rich,
+or what is it?"
+
+Ginger was becoming confused. Argument had never been his strong point.
+
+"But it's such a lot of money."
+
+"To you, perhaps. Not to me. I'm a plutocrat. Five thousand dollars!
+What's five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds."
+
+Ginger pondered woodenly for a while. His was a literal mind, and he
+knew nothing of Sally's finances beyond the fact that when he had first
+met her she had come into a legacy of some kind. Moreover, he had been
+hugely impressed by Fillmore's magnificence. It seemed plain enough that
+the Nicholases were a wealthy family.
+
+"I don't like it, you know," he said.
+
+"You don't have to like it," said Sally. "You just do it."
+
+A consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.
+
+"You'd have to let me pay you interest."
+
+"Let you? My lad, you'll have to pay me interest. What do you think this
+is--a round game? It's a cold business deal."
+
+"Topping!" said Ginger relieved. "How about twenty-five per cent."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally quickly. "I want three."
+
+"No, that's all rot," protested Ginger. "I mean to say--three. I don't,"
+he went on, making a concession, "mind saying twenty."
+
+"If you insist, I'll make it five. Not more."
+
+"Well, ten, then?"
+
+"Five!"
+
+"Suppose," said Ginger insinuatingly, "I said seven?"
+
+"I never saw anyone like you for haggling," said Sally with disapproval.
+"Listen! Six. And that's my last word."
+
+"Six?"
+
+"Six."
+
+Ginger did sums in his head.
+
+"But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year. It isn't
+enough."
+
+"What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort of
+deal in my life. Six! Do you agree?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Then that's settled. Is this man you talk about in New York?"
+
+"No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south shore."
+
+"I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book."
+
+"Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him
+up. Don't waste a minute."
+
+Ginger paused at the door.
+
+"I say, you're absolutely sure about this?'''
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street
+which, while not one of the city's important arteries, was capable,
+nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to the
+observer: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to
+the window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a third
+reading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It was
+a beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.
+
+She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped
+at the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her
+brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver,
+and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a large
+shadow in the sunshine. Sally was on the point of calling to him, when
+his behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.
+
+From where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practising
+the steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would do
+next kept Sally watching in silence. First, he moved in a resolute sort
+of way towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled back.
+This movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep thought
+before making another dash for the door, which, like the others, came
+to an abrupt end as though he had run into some invisible obstacle. And,
+finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off down the street and was lost
+to view.
+
+Sally could make nothing of it. If Fillmore had taken the trouble to
+come in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned the
+idea at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mystery
+when the telephone-bell rang, and her brother's voice spoke huskily in
+her ear.
+
+"Sally?"
+
+"Hullo, Fill. What are you going to call it?"
+
+"What am I... Call what?"
+
+"The dance you were doing outside here just now. It's your own
+invention, isn't it?"
+
+"Did you see me?" said Fillmore, upset.
+
+"Of course I saw you. I was fascinated."
+
+"I--er--I was coming to have a talk with you. Sally..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+There was a pause--on Fillmore's part, if the timbre of at his voice
+correctly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort. Something was
+plainly vexing Fillmore's great mind.
+
+"Sally," he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I--that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to see
+you very shortly. Will you be in?"
+
+"I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again."
+
+"She is very well. A trifle--a little upset."
+
+"Upset? What about?"
+
+"She will tell you when she arrives. I have just been 'phoning to her.
+She is coming at once." There was another pause. "I'm afraid she has bad
+news."
+
+"What news?"
+
+There was silence at the other end of the wire.
+
+"What news?" repeated Sally, a little sharply. She hated mysteries.
+
+But Fillmore had rung off. Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully. She
+was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gained by
+worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and tried to
+divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bell brought
+her out, to find her sister-in-law.
+
+Marriage, even though it had brought with it the lofty position of
+partnership with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no
+noticeable alteration in the former Miss Winch. As Mrs. Fillmore she
+was the same square, friendly creature. She hugged Sally in a muscular
+manner and went on in the sitting-room.
+
+"Well, it's great seeing you again," she said. "I began to think you
+were never coming back. What was the big idea, springing over to England
+like that?"
+
+Sally had been expecting the question, and answered it with composure.
+
+"I wanted to help Mr. Faucitt."
+
+"Who's Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+"Hasn't Fillmore ever mentioned him? He was a dear old man at the
+boarding-house, and his brother died and left him a dressmaking
+establishment in London. He screamed to me to come and tell him what to
+do about it. He has sold it now and is quite happy in the country."
+
+"Well, the trip's done you good," said Mrs. Fillmore. "You're prettier
+than ever."
+
+There was a pause. Already, in these trivial opening exchanges, Sally
+had sensed a suggestion of unwonted gravity in her companion. She missed
+that careless whimsicality which had been the chief characteristic of
+Miss Gladys Winch and seemed to have been cast off by Mrs. Fillmore
+Nicholas. At their meeting, before she had spoken, Sally had not
+noticed this, but now it was apparent that something was weighing on her
+companion. Mrs. Fillmore's honest eyes were troubled.
+
+"What's the bad news?" asked Sally abruptly. She wanted to end the
+suspense. "Fillmore was telling me over the 'phone that you had some bad
+news for me."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore scratched at the carpet for a moment with the end of her
+parasol without replying. When she spoke it was not in answer to the
+question.
+
+"Sally, who's this man Carmyle over in England?"
+
+"Oh, did Fillmore tell you about him?"
+
+"He told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
+you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him down."
+
+Sally's momentary annoyance faded. She could hardly, she felt, have
+expected Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.
+
+"Yes," she said. "That's true."
+
+"You couldn't write and say you've changed your mind?"
+
+Sally's annoyance returned. All her life she had been intensely
+independent, resentful of interference with her private concerns.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had--but I haven't. Did Fillmore tell you to try
+to talk me round?"
+
+"Oh, I'm not trying to talk you round," said Mrs. Fillmore quickly.
+"Goodness knows, I'm the last person to try and jolly anyone into
+marrying anybody if they didn't feel like it. I've seen too many
+marriages go wrong to do that. Look at Elsa Doland."
+
+Sally's heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.
+
+"Elsa?" she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook.
+"Has--has her marriage gone wrong?"
+
+"Gone all to bits," said Mrs. Fillmore shortly. "You remember she
+married Gerald Foster, the man who wrote 'The Primrose Way'?"
+
+Sally with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.
+
+"Yes, I remember," she said.
+
+"Well, it's all gone bloo-ey. I'll tell you about that in a minute.
+Coming back to this man in England, if you're in any doubt about it...
+I mean, you can't always tell right away whether you're fond of a man or
+not... When first I met Fillmore, I couldn't see him with a spy-glass,
+and now he's just the whole shooting-match... But that's not what I
+wanted to talk about. I was saying one doesn't always know one's
+own mind at first, and if this fellow really is a good fellow... and
+Fillmore tells me he's got all the money in the world..."
+
+Sally stopped her.
+
+"No, it's no good. I don't want to marry Mr. Carmyle."
+
+"That's that, then," said Mrs. Fillmore. "It's a pity, though."
+
+"Why are you taking it so much to heart?" said Sally with a nervous
+laugh.
+
+"Well..." Mrs. Fillmore paused. Sally's anxiety was growing. It must,
+she realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if it
+had the power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in her
+talk. "You see..." went on Mrs. Fillmore, and stopped again. "Gee! I'm
+hating this!" she murmured.
+
+"What is it? I don't understand."
+
+"You'll find it's all too darned clear by the time I'm through," said
+Mrs. Fillmore mournfully. "If I'm going to explain this thing, I
+guess I'd best start at the beginning. You remember that revue of
+Fillmore's--the one we both begged him not to put on. It flopped!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. It flopped on the road and died there. Never got to New York at
+all. Ike Schumann wouldn't let Fillmore have a theatre. The book wanted
+fixing and the numbers wanted fixing and the scenery wasn't right: and
+while they were tinkering with all that there was trouble about the
+cast and the Actors Equity closed the show. Best thing that could have
+happened, really, and I was glad at the time, because going on with
+it would only have meant wasting more money, and it had cost a fortune
+already. After that Fillmore put on a play of Gerald Foster's and that
+was a frost, too. It ran a week at the Booth. I hear the new piece he's
+got in rehearsal now is no good either. It's called 'The Wild Rose,' or
+something. But Fillmore's got nothing to do with that."
+
+"But..." Sally tried to speak, but Mrs. Fillmore went on.
+
+"Don't talk just yet, or I shall never get this thing straight. Well,
+you know Fillmore, poor darling. Anyone else would have pulled in his
+horns and gone slow for a spell, but he's one of those fellows whose
+horse is always going to win the next race. The big killing is always
+just round the corner with him. Funny how you can see what a chump a man
+is and yet love him to death... I remember saying something like that to
+you before... He thought he could get it all back by staging this fight
+of his that came off in Jersey City last night. And if everything had
+gone right he might have got afloat again. But it seems as if he can't
+touch anything without it turning to mud. On the very day before the
+fight was to come off, the poor mutt who was going against the champion
+goes and lets a sparring-partner of his own knock him down and fool
+around with him. With all the newspaper men there too! You probably
+saw about it in the papers. It made a great story for them. Well, that
+killed the whole thing. The public had never been any too sure that this
+fellow Bugs Butler had a chance of putting up a scrap with the champion
+that would be worth paying to see; and, when they read that he couldn't
+even stop his sparring-partners slamming him all around the place they
+simply decided to stay away. Poor old Fill! It was a finisher for
+him. The house wasn't a quarter full, and after he'd paid these two
+pluguglies their guarantees, which they insisted on having before they'd
+so much as go into the ring, he was just about cleaned out. So there you
+are!"
+
+Sally had listened with dismay to this catalogue of misfortunes.
+
+"Oh, poor Fill!" she cried. "How dreadful!"
+
+"Pretty tough."
+
+"But 'The Primrose Way' is a big success, isn't it?" said Sally, anxious
+to discover something of brightness in the situation.
+
+"It was." Mrs. Fillmore flushed again. "This is the part I hate having
+to tell you."
+
+"It was? Do you mean it isn't still? I thought Elsa had made such a
+tremendous hit. I read about it when I was over in London. It was even
+in one of the English papers."
+
+"Yes, she made a hit all right," said Mrs. Fillmore drily. "She made
+such a hit that all the other managements in New York were after her
+right away, and Fillmore had hardly sailed when she handed in her notice
+and signed up with Goble and Cohn for a new piece they are starring her
+in."
+
+"Ah, she couldn't!" cried Sally.
+
+"My dear, she did! She's out on the road with it now. I had to break the
+news to poor old Fillmore at the dock when he landed. It was rather a
+blow. I must say it wasn't what I would call playing the game. I know
+there isn't supposed to be any sentiment in business, but after all we
+had given Elsa her big chance. But Fillmore wouldn't put her name up
+over the theatre in electrics, and Goble and Cohn made it a clause in
+her contract that they would, so nothing else mattered. People are like
+that."
+
+"But Elsa... She used not to be like that."
+
+"They all get that way. They must grab success if it's to be grabbed.
+I suppose you can't blame them. You might just as well expect a cat to
+keep off catnip. Still, she might have waited to the end of the New York
+run." Mrs. Fillmore put out her hand and touched Sally's. "Well, I've
+got it out now," she said, "and, believe me, it was one rotten job. You
+don't know how sorry I am. Sally. I wouldn't have had it happen for a
+million dollars. Nor would Fillmore. I'm not sure that I blame him for
+getting cold feet and backing out of telling you himself. He just hadn't
+the nerve to come and confess that he had fooled away your money. He was
+hoping all along that this fight would pan out big and that he'd be
+able to pay you back what you had loaned him, but things didn't happen
+right."
+
+Sally was silent. She was thinking how strange it was that this room in
+which she had hoped to be so happy had been from the first moment of her
+occupancy a storm centre of bad news and miserable disillusionment. In
+this first shock of the tidings, it was the disillusionment that hurt
+most. She had always been so fond of Elsa, and Elsa had always seemed
+so fond of her. She remembered that letter of Elsa's with all its
+protestations of gratitude... It wasn't straight. It was horrible.
+Callous, selfish, altogether horrible...
+
+"It's..." She choked, as a rush of indignation brought the tears to her
+eyes. "It's... beastly! I'm... I'm not thinking about my money. That's
+just bad luck. But Elsa..."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore shrugged her square shoulders.
+
+"Well, it's happening all the time in the show business," she said. "And
+in every other business, too, I guess, if one only knew enough about
+them to be able to say. Of course, it hits you hard because Elsa was a
+pal of yours, and you're thinking she might have considered you after
+all you've done for her. I can't say I'm much surprised myself." Mrs.
+Fillmore was talking rapidly, and dimly Sally understood that she was
+talking so that talk would carry her over this bad moment. Silence now
+would have been unendurable. "I was in the company with her, and it
+sometimes seems to me as if you can't get to know a person right through
+till you've been in the same company with them. Elsa's all right, but
+she's two people really, like these dual identity cases you read about.
+She's awfully fond of you. I know she is. She was always saying so,
+and it was quite genuine. If it didn't interfere with business there's
+nothing she wouldn't do for you. But when it's a case of her career you
+don't count. Nobody counts. Not even her husband. Now that's funny.
+If you think that sort of thing funny. Personally, it gives me the
+willies."
+
+"What's funny?" asked Sally, dully.
+
+"Well, you weren't there, so you didn't see it, but I was on the spot
+all the time, and I know as well as I know anything that he simply
+married her because he thought she could get him on in the game. He
+hardly paid any attention to her at all till she was such a riot in
+Chicago, and then he was all over her. And now he's got stung. She
+throws down his show and goes off to another fellow's. It's like
+marrying for money and finding the girl hasn't any. And she's got stung,
+too, in a way, because I'm pretty sure she married him mostly because
+she thought he was going to be the next big man in the play-writing
+business and could boost her up the ladder. And now it doesn't look as
+though he had another success in him. The result is they're at outs. I
+hear he's drinking. Somebody who'd seen him told me he had gone all to
+pieces. You haven't seen him, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I thought maybe you might have run into him. He lives right opposite."
+
+Sally clutched at the arm of her chair.
+
+"Lives right opposite? Gerald Foster? What do you mean?"
+
+"Across the passage there," said Mrs. Fillmore, jerking her thumb at the
+door. "Didn't you know? That's right, I suppose you didn't. They moved
+in after you had beaten it for England. Elsa wanted to be near you, and
+she was tickled to death when she found there was an apartment to be had
+right across from you. Now, that just proves what I was saying a while
+ago about Elsa. If she wasn't fond of you, would she go out of her way
+to camp next door? And yet, though she's so fond of you, she doesn't
+hesitate about wrecking your property by quitting the show when she sees
+a chance of doing herself a bit of good. It's funny, isn't it?"
+
+The telephone-bell, tinkling sharply, rescued Sally from the necessity
+of a reply. She forced herself across the room to answer it.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+Ginger's voice spoke jubilantly.
+
+"Hullo. Are you there? I say, it's all right, about that binge, you
+know."
+
+"Oh, yes?"
+
+"That dog fellow, you know," said Ginger, with a slight diminution of
+exuberance. His sensitive ear had seemed to detect a lack of animation
+in her voice. "I've just been talking to him over the 'phone, and it's
+all settled. If," he added, with a touch of doubt, "you still feel like
+going into it, I mean."
+
+There was an instant in which Sally hesitated, but it was only an
+instant.
+
+"Why, of course," she said, steadily. "Why should you think I had
+changed my mind?"
+
+"Well, I thought... that is to say, you seemed... oh, I don't know."
+
+"You imagine things. I was a little worried about something when you
+called me up, and my mind wasn't working properly. Of course, go ahead
+with it. Ginger. I'm delighted."
+
+"I say, I'm awfully sorry you're worried."
+
+"Oh. it's all right."
+
+"Something bad?"
+
+"Nothing that'll kill me. I'm young and strong."
+
+Ginger was silent for a moment.
+
+"I say, I don't want to butt in, but can I do anything?"
+
+"No, really, Ginger, I know you would do anything you could, but this
+is just something I must worry through by myself. When do you go down to
+this place?"
+
+"I was thinking of popping down this afternoon, just to take a look
+round."
+
+"Let me know what train you're making and I'll come and see you off."
+
+"That's ripping of you. Right ho. Well, so long."
+
+"So long," said Sally.
+
+Mrs. Fillmore, who had been sitting in that state of suspended animation
+which comes upon people who are present at a telephone conversation
+which has nothing to do with themselves, came to life as Sally replaced
+the receiver.
+
+"Sally," she said, "I think we ought to have a talk now about what
+you're going to do."
+
+Sally was not feeling equal to any discussion of the future. All she
+asked of the world at the moment was to be left alone.
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I shall manage. You ought to be worrying about
+Fillmore."
+
+"Fillmore's got me to look after him," said Gladys, with quiet
+determination. "You're the one that's on my mind. I lay awake all last
+night thinking about you. As far as I can make out from Fillmore, you've
+still a few thousand dollars left. Well, as it happens, I can put you on
+to a really good thing. I know a girl..."
+
+"I'm afraid," interrupted Sally, "all the rest of my money, what there
+is of it, is tied up."
+
+"You can't get hold of it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But listen," said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently. "This is a really good
+thing. This girl I know started an interior decorating business some
+time ago and is pulling in the money in handfuls. But she wants more
+capital, and she's willing to let go of a third of the business to
+anyone who'll put in a few thousand. She won't have any difficulty
+getting it, but I 'phoned her this morning to hold off till I'd heard
+from you. Honestly, Sally, it's the chance of a lifetime. It would put
+you right on easy street. Isn't there really any way you could get your
+money out of this other thing and take on this deal?"
+
+"There really isn't. I'm awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear, but it's
+impossible."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her
+parasol, "I don't know what you've gone into, but, unless they've given
+you a share in the Mint or something, you'll be losing by not making the
+switch. You're sure you can't do it?"
+
+"I really can't."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.
+
+"Well, you know best, of course. Gosh! What a muddle everything is.
+Sally," she said, suddenly stopping at the door, "you're not going to
+hate poor old Fillmore over this, are you?"
+
+"Why, of course not. The whole thing was just bad luck."
+
+"He's worried stiff about it."
+
+"Well, give him my love, and tell him not to be so silly."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore crossed the room and kissed Sally impulsively.
+
+"You're an angel," she said. "I wish there were more like you. But I
+guess they've lost the pattern. Well, I'll go back and tell Fillmore
+that. It'll relieve him."
+
+The door closed, and Sally sat down with her chin in her hands to think.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Isadore Abrahams, the founder and proprietor of that deservedly
+popular dancing resort poetically named "The Flower Garden," leaned back
+in his chair with a contented sigh and laid down the knife and fork
+with which he had been assailing a plateful of succulent goulash. He was
+dining, as was his admirable custom, in the bosom of his family at his
+residence at Far Rockaway. Across the table, his wife, Rebecca, beamed
+at him over her comfortable plinth of chins, and round the table his
+children, David, Jacob, Morris and Saide, would have beamed at him
+if they had not been too busy at the moment ingurgitating goulash.
+A genial, honest, domestic man was Mr. Abrahams, a credit to the
+community.
+
+"Mother," he said.
+
+"Pa?" said Mrs. Abrahams.
+
+"Knew there was something I'd meant to tell you," said Mr. Abrahams,
+absently chasing a piece of bread round his plate with a stout finger.
+"You remember that girl I told you about some time back--girl working at
+the Garden--girl called Nicholas, who came into a bit of money and threw
+up her job..."
+
+"I remember. You liked her. Jakie, dear, don't gobble."
+
+"Ain't gobbling," said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Everybody liked her," said Mr. Abrahams. "The nicest girl I ever hired,
+and I don't hire none but nice girls, because the Garden's a nice place,
+and I like to run it nice. I wouldn't give you a nickel for any of your
+tough joints where you get nothing but low-lifes and scare away all the
+real folks. Everybody liked Sally Nicholas. Always pleasant and always
+smiling, and never anything but the lady. It was a treat to have her
+around. Well, what do you think?"
+
+"Dead?" inquired Mrs. Abrahams, apprehensively. The story had sounded to
+her as though it were heading that way. "Wipe your mouth, Jakie dear."
+
+"No, not dead," said Mr. Abrahams, conscious for the first time that the
+remainder of his narrative might be considered by a critic something
+of an anti-climax and lacking in drama. "But she was in to see me this
+afternoon and wants her job back."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, rather tonelessly. An ardent supporter of the
+local motion-picture palace, she had hoped for a slightly more gingery
+denouement, something with a bit more punch.
+
+"Yes, but don't it show you?" continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly trying
+to work up the interest. "There's this girl, goes out of my place not
+more'n a year ago, with a good bank-roll in her pocket, and here she is,
+back again, all of it spent. Don't it show you what a tragedy life is,
+if you see what I mean, and how careful one ought to be about money?
+It's what I call a human document. Goodness knows how she's been and
+gone and spent it all. I'd never have thought she was the sort of girl
+to go gadding around. Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible."
+
+"What's gadding, Pop?" asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
+chain his interest.
+
+"Well, she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
+back again. There's class to that girl. She's the sort of girl I want
+in the place. Don't seem quite to have so much get-up in her as she used
+to... seems kind of quieted down... but she's got class, and I'm glad
+she's back. I hope she'll stay. But don't it show you?"
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before. It had not
+worked out such a bad story after all. In its essentials it was not
+unlike the film she had seen the previous evening--Gloria Gooch in "A
+Girl against the World."
+
+"Pop!" said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Yes, Jakie?"
+
+"When I'm grown up, I won't never lose no money. I'll put it in the bank
+and save it."
+
+The slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally's troubles
+left Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.
+
+"That's a good boy, Jakie," he said.
+
+He felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and
+bent forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND
+
+
+
+There is in certain men--and Bruce Carmyle was one of them--a quality of
+resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as
+effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and
+more practical kind. As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle resembled that durable
+type of pugilist who can only give of his best after he has received
+at least one substantial wallop on some tender spot. Although Sally had
+refused his offer of marriage quite definitely at Monk's Crofton, it had
+never occurred to him to consider the episode closed. All his life he
+had been accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he meant to get it
+now.
+
+He was quite sure that he wanted Sally. There had been moments when
+he had been conscious of certain doubts, but in the smart of temporary
+defeat these had vanished. That streak of Bohemianism in her which from
+time to time since their first meeting had jarred upon his orderly
+mind was forgotten; and all that Mr. Carmyle could remember was the
+brightness of her eyes, the jaunty lift of her chin, and the gallant
+trimness of her. Her gay prettiness seemed to flick at him like a whip
+in the darkness of wakeful nights, lashing him to pursuit. And quietly
+and methodically, like a respectable wolf settling on the trail of a Red
+Riding Hood, he prepared to pursue. Delicacy and imagination might have
+kept him back, but in these qualities he had never been strong. One
+cannot have everything.
+
+His preparations for departure, though he did his best to make them
+swiftly and secretly, did not escape the notice of the Family. In many
+English families there seems to exist a system of inter-communication
+and news-distribution like that of those savage tribes in Africa who
+pass the latest item of news and interest from point to point over
+miles of intervening jungle by some telepathic method never properly
+explained. On his last night in London, there entered to Bruce
+Carmyle at his apartment in South Audley Street, the Family's chosen
+representative, the man to whom the Family pointed with pride--Uncle
+Donald, in the flesh.
+
+There were two hundred and forty pounds of the flesh Uncle Donald was
+in, and the chair in which he deposited it creaked beneath its burden.
+Once, at Monk's Crofton, Sally had spoiled a whole morning for her
+brother Fillmore, by indicating Uncle Donald as the exact image of
+what he would be when he grew up. A superstition, cherished from early
+schooldays, that he had a weak heart had caused the Family's managing
+director to abstain from every form of exercise for nearly fifty years;
+and, as he combined with a distaste for exercise one of the three
+heartiest appetites in the south-western postal division of London,
+Uncle Donald, at sixty-two, was not a man one would willingly have
+lounging in one's armchairs. Bruce Carmyle's customary respectfulness
+was tinged with something approaching dislike as he looked at him.
+
+Uncle Donald's walrus moustache heaved gently upon his laboured breath,
+like seaweed on a ground-swell. There had been stairs to climb.
+
+"What's this? What's this?" he contrived to ejaculate at last. "You
+packing?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, shortly. For the first time in his life he was
+conscious of that sensation of furtive guilt which was habitual with his
+cousin Ginger when in the presence of this large, mackerel-eyed man.
+
+"You going away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where you going?"
+
+"America."
+
+"When you going?"
+
+"To-morrow morning."
+
+"Why you going?"
+
+This dialogue has been set down as though it had been as brisk and
+snappy as any cross-talk between vaudeville comedians, but in reality
+Uncle Donald's peculiar methods of conversation had stretched it over
+a period of nearly three minutes: for after each reply and before each
+question he had puffed and sighed and inhaled his moustache with
+such painful deliberation that his companion's nerves were finding it
+difficult to bear up under the strain.
+
+"You're going after that girl," said Uncle Donald, accusingly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle flushed darkly. And it is interesting to record that at
+this moment there flitted through his mind the thought that Ginger's
+behaviour at Bleke's Coffee House, on a certain notable occasion, had
+not been so utterly inexcusable as he had supposed. There was no doubt
+that the Family's Chosen One could be trying.
+
+"Will you have a whisky and soda, Uncle Donald?" he said, by way of
+changing the conversation.
+
+"Yes," said his relative, in pursuance of a vow he had made in the early
+eighties never to refuse an offer of this kind. "Gimme!"
+
+You would have thought that that would have put matters on a pleasanter
+footing. But no. Having lapped up the restorative, Uncle Donald returned
+to the attack quite un-softened.
+
+"Never thought you were a fool before," he said severely.
+
+Bruce Carmyle's proud spirit chafed. This sort of interview, which had
+become a commonplace with his cousin Ginger, was new to him. Hitherto,
+his actions had received neither criticism nor been subjected to it.
+
+"I'm not a fool."
+
+"You are a fool. A damn fool," continued Uncle Donald, specifying more
+exactly. "Don't like the girl. Never did. Not a nice girl. Didn't like
+her. Right from the first."
+
+"Need we discuss this?" said Bruce Carmyle, dropping, as he was apt to
+do, into the grand manner.
+
+The Head of the Family drank in a layer of moustache and blew it out
+again.
+
+"Need we discuss it?" he said with asperity. "We're going to discuss it!
+Whatch think I climbed all these blasted stairs for with my weak heart?
+Gimme another!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle gave him another.
+
+"'S a bad business," moaned Uncle Donald, having gone through the
+movements once more. "Shocking bad business. If your poor father were
+alive, whatch think he'd say to your tearing across the world after this
+girl? I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say... What kind of whisky's
+this?"
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"New to me. Not bad. Quite good. Sound. Mellow. Wherej get it?"
+
+"Bilby's in Oxford Street."
+
+"Must order some. Mellow. He'd say... well, God knows what he'd say.
+Whatch doing it for? Whatch doing it for? That's what I can't see. None
+of us can see. Puzzles your uncle George. Baffles your aunt Geraldine.
+Nobody can understand it. Girl's simply after your money. Anyone can see
+that."
+
+"Pardon me, Uncle Donald," said Mr. Carmyle, stiffly, "but that is
+surely rather absurd. If that were the case, why should she have refused
+me at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+"Drawing you on," said Uncle Donald, promptly. "Luring you on.
+Well-known trick. Girl in 1881, when I was at Oxford, tried to lure me
+on. If I hadn't had some sense and a weak heart... Whatch know of this
+girl? Whatch know of her? That's the point. Who is she? Wherej meet
+her?"
+
+"I met her at Roville, in France."
+
+"Travelling with her family?"
+
+"Travelling alone," said Bruce Carmyle, reluctantly.
+
+"Not even with that brother of hers? Bad!" said Uncle Donald. "Bad,
+bad!"
+
+"American girls are accustomed to more independence than English girls."
+
+"That young man," said Uncle Donald, pursuing a train of thought, "is
+going to be fat one of these days, if he doesn't look out. Travelling
+alone, was she? What did you do? Catch her eye on the pier?"
+
+"Really, Uncle Donald!"
+
+"Well, must have got to know her somehow."
+
+"I was introduced to her by Lancelot. She was a friend of his."
+
+"Lancelot!" exploded Uncle Donald, quivering all over like a smitten
+jelly at the loathed name. "Well, that shows you what sort of a girl she
+is. Any girl that would be a friend of... Unpack!"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Unpack! Mustn't go on with this foolery. Out of the question. Find some
+girl make you a good wife. Your aunt Mary's been meeting some people
+name of Bassington-Bassington, related Kent Bassington-Bassingtons...
+eldest daughter charming girl, just do for you."
+
+Outside the pages of the more old-fashioned type of fiction nobody ever
+really ground his teeth, but Bruce Carmyle came nearer to it at that
+moment than anyone had ever come before. He scowled blackly, and the
+last trace of suavity left him.
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind," he said briefly. "I sail to-morrow."
+
+Uncle Donald had had a previous experience of being defied by a nephew,
+but it had not accustomed him to the sensation. He was aware of an
+unpleasant feeling of impotence. Nothing is harder than to know what to
+do next when defied.
+
+"Eh?" he said.
+
+Mr. Carmyle having started to defy, evidently decided to make a good job
+of it.
+
+"I am over twenty-one," said he. "I am financially independent. I shall
+do as I please."
+
+"But, consider!" pleaded Uncle Donald, painfully conscious of the
+weakness of his words. "Reflect!"
+
+"I have reflected."
+
+"Your position in the county..."
+
+"I've thought of that."
+
+"You could marry anyone you pleased."
+
+"I'm going to."
+
+"You are determined to go running off to God-knows-where after this Miss
+I-can't-even-remember-her-dam-name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you considered," said Uncle Donald, portentously, "that you owe a
+duty to the Family."
+
+Bruce Carmyle's patience snapped and he sank like a stone to absolutely
+Gingerian depths of plain-spokenness.
+
+"Oh, damn the Family!" he cried.
+
+There was a painful silence, broken only by the relieved sigh of the
+armchair as Uncle Donald heaved himself out of it.
+
+"After that," said Uncle Donald, "I have nothing more to say."
+
+"Good!" said Mr. Carmyle rudely, lost to all shame.
+
+"'Cept this. If you come back married to that girl, I'll cut you in
+Piccadilly. By George, I will!"
+
+He moved to the door. Bruce Carmyle looked down his nose without
+speaking. A tense moment.
+
+"What," asked Uncle Donald, his fingers on the handle, "did you say it
+was called?"
+
+"What was what called?"
+
+"That whisky."
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"And wherj get it?"
+
+"Bilby's, in Oxford Street."
+
+"I'll make a note of it," said Uncle Donald.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+"And after all I've done for her," said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, his
+voice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combined
+effects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock,
+"after all I've done for her she throws me down."
+
+Sally did not reply. The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of a calibre
+that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having, moreover,
+too much difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell's erratic
+dance-steps to employ her attention elsewhere. They manoeuvred jerkily
+past the table where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower Garden's newest
+"hostess," sat watching the revels with a distant hauteur. Miss Hobson
+was looking her most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowful gulp
+escaped the stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.
+
+"If I told you," he moaned in Sally's ear, "what... was that your ankle?
+Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I had
+spent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws me
+down. And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn't
+spoken to me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone.
+And I was right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. But
+that," said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, "is a woman all over!"
+
+Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on
+hers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpreted
+the ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his last
+remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.
+
+"I don't mean you're like that," he said. "You're different. I could see
+that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's why I'm
+telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl and can
+understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this job as
+hostess here--you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred her in
+a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave her those.
+And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. I wish
+you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know, because
+you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. I don't know
+what to do. I come here every night." Sally was aware of this. She had
+seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee Schoenstein, the
+gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him on her. "I come here
+every night and dance past her table, but she won't look at me. What,"
+asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes, "would you do about
+it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, frankly.
+
+"Nor do I. I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,
+broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, if
+you can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?" pleaded Mr.
+Cracknell, urgently. "But I know you won't because you're a sensible...
+I'm giving her a little present. Having it brought here to-night. Little
+present. That ought to soften her, don't you think?"
+
+"A big one would do it better."
+
+Mr. Cracknell kicked her on the shin in a dismayed sort of way.
+
+"I never thought of that. Perhaps you're right. But it's too late now.
+Still, it might. Or wouldn't it? Which do you think?"
+
+"Yes," said Sally.
+
+"I thought as much," said Mr. Cracknell.
+
+The orchestra stopped with a thump and a bang, leaving Mr. Cracknell
+clapping feebly in the middle of the floor. Sally slipped back to her
+table. Her late partner, after an uncertain glance about him, as if
+he had mislaid something but could not remember what, zigzagged off in
+search of his own seat. The noise of many conversations, drowned by the
+music, broke out with renewed vigour. The hot, close air was full of
+voices; and Sally, pressing her hands on her closed eyes, was reminded
+once more that she had a headache.
+
+Nearly a month had passed since her return to Mr. Abrahams' employment.
+It had been a dull, leaden month, a monotonous succession of lifeless
+days during which life had become a bad dream. In some strange nightmare
+fashion, she seemed nowadays to be cut off from her kind. It was weeks
+since she had seen a familiar face. None of the companions of her
+old boarding-house days had crossed her path. Fillmore, no doubt from
+uneasiness of conscience, had not sought her out, and Ginger was working
+out his destiny on the south shore of Long Island.
+
+She lowered her hands and opened her eyes and looked at the room. It was
+crowded, as always. The Flower Garden was one of the many establishments
+of the same kind which had swum to popularity on the rising flood of
+New York's dancing craze; and doubtless because, as its proprietor had
+claimed, it was a nice place and run nice, it had continued, unlike many
+of its rivals, to enjoy unvarying prosperity. In its advertisement,
+it described itself as "a supper-club for after-theatre dining and
+dancing," adding that "large and spacious, and sumptuously appointed,"
+it was "one of the town's wonder-places, with its incomparable
+dance-floor, enchanting music, cuisine, and service de luxe." From which
+it may be gathered, even without his personal statements to that effect,
+that Isadore Abrahams thought well of the place.
+
+There had been a time when Sally had liked it, too. In her first period
+of employment there she had found it diverting, stimulating and full of
+entertainment. But in those days she had never had headaches or, what
+was worse, this dreadful listless depression which weighed her down and
+made her nightly work a burden.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+The orchestra, never silent for long at the Flower Garden, had started
+again, and Lee Schoenstein, the master of ceremonies, was presenting a
+new partner. She got up mechanically.
+
+"This is the first time I have been in this place," said the man, as
+they bumped over the crowded floor. He was big and clumsy, of course.
+To-night it seemed to Sally that the whole world was big and clumsy.
+"It's a swell place. I come from up-state myself. We got nothing like
+this where I come from." He cleared a space before him, using Sally as
+a battering-ram, and Sally, though she had not enjoyed her recent
+excursion with Mr. Cracknell, now began to look back to it almost with
+wistfulness. This man was undoubtedly the worst dancer in America.
+
+"Give me li'l old New York," said the man from up-state,
+unpatriotically. "It's good enough for me. I been to some swell shows
+since I got to town. You seen this year's 'Follies'?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You go," said the man earnestly. "You go! Take it from me, it's a swell
+show. You seen 'Myrtle takes a Turkish Bath'?"
+
+"I don't go to many theatres."
+
+"You go! It's a scream. I been to a show every night since I got here.
+Every night regular. Swell shows all of 'em, except this last one.
+I cert'nly picked a lemon to-night all right. I was taking a chance,
+y'see, because it was an opening. Thought it would be something to
+say, when I got home, that I'd been to a New York opening. Set me back
+two-seventy-five, including tax, and I wish I'd got it in my kick
+right now. 'The Wild Rose,' they called it," he said satirically, as
+if exposing a low subterfuge on the part of the management. "'The Wild
+Rose!' It sure made me wild all right. Two dollars seventy-five tossed
+away, just like that."
+
+Something stirred in Sally's memory. Why did that title seem so
+familiar? Then, with a shock, she remembered. It was Gerald's new play.
+For some time after her return to New York, she had been haunted by the
+fear lest, coming out of her apartment, she might meet him coming out of
+his; and then she had seen a paragraph in her morning paper which had
+relieved her of this apprehension. Gerald was out on the road with a new
+play, and "The Wild Rose," she was almost sure, was the name of it.
+
+"Is that Gerald Foster's play?" she asked quickly.
+
+"I don't know who wrote it," said her partner, "but let me tell you he's
+one lucky guy to get away alive. There's fellows breaking stones on the
+Ossining Road that's done a lot less to deserve a sentence. Wild Rose!
+I'll tell the world it made me go good and wild," said the man from
+up-state, an economical soul who disliked waste and was accustomed to
+spread out his humorous efforts so as to give them every chance. "Why,
+before the second act was over, the people were beating it for the
+exits, and if it hadn't been for someone shouting 'Women and children
+first' there'd have been a panic."
+
+Sally found herself back at her table without knowing clearly how she
+had got there.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+She started to rise, and was aware suddenly that this was not the voice
+of duty calling her once more through the gold teeth of Mr. Schoenstein.
+The man who had spoken her name had seated himself beside her, and was
+talking in precise, clipped accents, oddly familiar. The mist cleared
+from her eyes and she recognized Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+"I called at your place," Mr. Carmyle was saying, "and the hall porter
+told me that you were here, so I ventured to follow you. I hope you do
+not mind? May I smoke?"
+
+He lit a cigarette with something of an air. His fingers trembled as he
+raised the match, but he flattered himself that there was nothing
+else in his demeanour to indicate that he was violently excited.
+Bruce Carmyle's ideal was the strong man who can rise superior to his
+emotions. He was alive to the fact that this was an embarrassing moment,
+but he was determined not to show that he appreciated it. He cast a
+sideways glance at Sally, and thought that never, not even in the garden
+at Monk's Crofton on a certain momentous occasion, had he seen her
+looking prettier. Her face was flushed and her eyes aflame. The stout
+wraith of Uncle Donald, which had accompanied Mr. Carmyle on this
+expedition of his, faded into nothingness as he gazed.
+
+There was a pause. Mr. Carmyle, having lighted his cigarette, puffed
+vigorously.
+
+"When did you land?" asked Sally, feeling the need of saying something.
+Her mind was confused. She could not have said whether she was glad
+or sorry that he was there. Glad, she thought, on the whole. There
+was something in his dark, cool, stiff English aspect that gave her a
+curious feeling of relief. He was so unlike Mr. Cracknell and the man
+from up-state and so calmly remote from the feverish atmosphere in which
+she lived her nights that it was restful to look at him.
+
+"I landed to-night," said Bruce Carmyle, turning and faced her squarely.
+
+"To-night!"
+
+"We docked at ten."
+
+He turned away again. He had made his effect, and was content to leave
+her to think it over.
+
+Sally was silent. The significance of his words had not escaped her. She
+realized that his presence there was a challenge which she must answer.
+And yet it hardly stirred her. She had been fighting so long, and she
+felt utterly inert. She was like a swimmer who can battle no longer and
+prepares to yield to the numbness of exhaustion. The heat of the room
+pressed down on her like a smothering blanket. Her tired nerves cried
+out under the blare of music and the clatter of voices.
+
+"Shall we dance this?" he asked.
+
+The orchestra had started to play again, a sensuous, creamy melody which
+was making the most of its brief reign as Broadway's leading song-hit,
+overfamiliar to her from a hundred repetitions.
+
+"If you like."
+
+Efficiency was Bruce Carmyle's gospel. He was one of these men who
+do not attempt anything which they cannot accomplish to perfection.
+Dancing, he had decided early in his life, was a part of a gentleman's
+education, and he had seen to it that he was educated thoroughly. Sally,
+who, as they swept out on to the floor, had braced herself automatically
+for a repetition of the usual bumping struggle which dancing at the
+Flower Garden had come to mean for her, found herself in the arms of
+a masterful expert, a man who danced better than she did, and suddenly
+there came to her a feeling that was almost gratitude, a miraculous
+slackening of her taut nerves, a delicious peace. Soothed and contented,
+she yielded herself with eyes half closed to the rhythm of the melody,
+finding it now robbed in some mysterious manner of all its stale
+cheapness, and in that moment her whole attitude towards Bruce Carmyle
+underwent a complete change.
+
+She had never troubled to examine with any minuteness her feelings
+towards him: but one thing she had known clearly since their first
+meeting--that he was physically distasteful to her. For all his good
+looks, and in his rather sinister way he was a handsome man, she had
+shrunk from him. Now, spirited away by the magic of the dance, that
+repugnance had left her. It was as if some barrier had been broken down
+between them.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+She felt his arm tighten about her, the muscles quivering. She caught
+sight of his face. His dark eyes suddenly blazed into hers and she
+stumbled with an odd feeling of helplessness; realizing with a shock
+that brought her with a jerk out of the half-dream into which she had
+been lulled that this dance had not postponed the moment of decision,
+as she had looked to it to do. In a hot whisper, the words swept away
+on the flood of the music which had suddenly become raucous and blaring
+once more, he was repeating what he had said under the trees at Monk's
+Crofton on that far-off morning in the English springtime. Dizzily
+she knew that she was resenting the unfairness of the attack at such a
+moment, but her mind seemed numbed.
+
+The music stopped abruptly. Insistent clapping started it again, but
+Sally moved away to her table, and he followed her like a shadow.
+Neither spoke. Bruce Carmyle had said his say, and Sally was sitting
+staring before her, trying to think. She was tired, tired. Her eyes were
+burning. She tried to force herself to face the situation squarely. Was
+it worth struggling? Was anything in the world worth a struggle? She
+only knew that she was tired, desperately tired, tired to the very
+depths of her soul.
+
+The music stopped. There was more clapping, but this time the orchestra
+did not respond. Gradually the floor emptied. The shuffling of feet
+ceased. The Flower Garden was as quiet as it was ever able to be. Even
+the voices of the babblers seemed strangely hushed. Sally closed her
+eyes, and as she did so from somewhere up near the roof there came the
+song of a bird.
+
+Isadore Abrahams was a man of his word. He advertised a Flower Garden,
+and he had tried to give the public something as closely resembling
+a flower-garden as it was possible for an overcrowded, overheated,
+overnoisy Broadway dancing-resort to achieve. Paper roses festooned the
+walls; genuine tulips bloomed in tubs by every pillar; and from the
+roof hung cages with birds in them. One of these, stirred by the sudden
+cessation of the tumult below, had began to sing.
+
+Sally had often pitied these birds, and more than once had pleaded in
+vain with Abrahams for a remission of their sentence, but somehow at
+this moment it did not occur to her that this one was merely praying in
+its own language, as she often had prayed in her thoughts, to be taken
+out of this place. To her, sitting there wrestling with Fate, the song
+seemed cheerful. It soothed her. It healed her to listen to it. And
+suddenly before her eyes there rose a vision of Monk's Crofton, cool,
+green, and peaceful under the mild English sun, luring her as an oasis
+seen in the distance lures the desert traveller...
+
+She became aware that the master of Monk's Crofton had placed his hand
+on hers and was holding it in a tightening grip. She looked down and
+gave a little shiver. She had always disliked Bruce Carmyle's hands.
+They were strong and bony and black hair grew on the back of them. One
+of the earliest feelings regarding him had been that she would hate to
+have those hands touching her. But she did not move. Again that vision
+of the old garden had flickered across her mind... a haven where she
+could rest...
+
+He was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear. The room was hotter
+than it had ever been, noisier than it had ever been, fuller than it had
+ever been. The bird on the roof was singing again and now she understood
+what it said. "Take me out of this!" Did anything matter except that?
+What did it matter how one was taken, or where, or by whom, so that one
+was taken.
+
+Monk's Crofton was looking cool and green and peaceful...
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+3
+
+
+
+Bruce Carmyle, in the capacity of accepted suitor, found himself at
+something of a loss. He had a dissatisfied feeling. It was not the
+manner of Sally's acceptance that caused this. It would, of course, have
+pleased him better if she had shown more warmth, but he was prepared to
+wait for warmth. What did trouble him was the fact that his correct mind
+perceived now for the first time that he had chosen an unsuitable moment
+and place for his outburst of emotion. He belonged to the orthodox
+school of thought which looks on moonlight and solitude as the proper
+setting for a proposal of marriage; and the surroundings of the Flower
+Garden, for all its nice-ness and the nice manner in which it was
+conducted, jarred upon him profoundly.
+
+Music had begun again, but it was not the soft music such as a lover
+demands if he is to give of his best. It was a brassy, clashy rendering
+of a ribald one-step, enough to choke the eloquence of the most ardent.
+Couples were dipping and swaying and bumping into one another as far
+as the eye could reach; while just behind him two waiters had halted in
+order to thrash out one of those voluble arguments in which waiters
+love to indulge. To continue the scene at the proper emotional level
+was impossible, and Bruce Carmyle began his career as an engaged man by
+dropping into Smalltalk.
+
+"Deuce of a lot of noise," he said querulously.
+
+"Yes," agreed Sally.
+
+"Is it always like this?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Infernal racket!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The romantic side of Mr. Carmyle's nature could have cried aloud at the
+hideous unworthiness of these banalities. In the visions which he had
+had of himself as a successful wooer, it had always been in the moments
+immediately succeeding the all-important question and its whispered
+reply that he had come out particularly strong. He had been accustomed
+to picture himself bending with a proud tenderness over his partner in
+the scene and murmuring some notably good things to her bowed head. How
+could any man murmur in a pandemonium like this. From tenderness Bruce
+Carmyle descended with a sharp swoop to irritability.
+
+"Do you often come here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To dance."
+
+Mr. Carmyle chafed helplessly. The scene, which should be so romantic,
+had suddenly reminded him of the occasion when, at the age of twenty, he
+had attended his first ball and had sat in a corner behind a potted palm
+perspiring shyly and endeavouring to make conversation to a formidable
+nymph in pink. It was one of the few occasions in his life at which he
+had ever been at a complete disadvantage. He could still remember the
+clammy discomfort of his too high collar as it melted on him. Most
+certainly it was not a scene which he enjoyed recalling; and that
+he should be forced to recall it now, at what ought to have been the
+supreme moment of his life, annoyed him intensely. Almost angrily he
+endeavoured to jerk the conversation to a higher level.
+
+"Darling," he murmured, for by moving his chair two feet to the right
+and bending sideways he found that he was in a position to murmur, "you
+have made me so..."
+
+"Batti, batti! I presto ravioli hollandaise," cried one of the disputing
+waiters at his back--or to Bruce Carmyle's prejudiced hearing it sounded
+like that.
+
+"La Donna e mobile spaghetti napoli Tettrazina," rejoined the second
+waiter with spirit.
+
+"... you have made me so..."
+
+"Infanta Isabella lope de Vegas mulligatawny Toronto," said the first
+waiter, weak but coming back pluckily.
+
+"... so happy..."
+
+"Funiculi funicula Vincente y Blasco Ibanez vermicelli sul campo della
+gloria risotto!" said the second waiter clinchingly, and scored a
+technical knockout.
+
+Bruce Carmyle gave it up, and lit a moody cigarette. He was oppressed by
+that feeling which so many of us have felt in our time, that it was all
+wrong.
+
+The music stopped. The two leading citizens of Little Italy vanished and
+went their way, probably to start a vendetta. There followed comparative
+calm. But Bruce Carmyle's emotions, like sweet bells jangled, were out
+of tune, and he could not recapture the first fine careless rapture. He
+found nothing within him but small-talk.
+
+"What has become of your party?" he asked.
+
+"My party?"
+
+"The people you are with," said Mr. Carmyle. Even in the stress of his
+emotion this problem had been exercising him. In his correctly ordered
+world girls did not go to restaurants alone.
+
+"I'm not with anybody."
+
+"You came here by yourself?" exclaimed Bruce Carmyle, frankly aghast.
+And, as he spoke, the wraith of Uncle Donald, banished till now,
+returned as large as ever, puffing disapproval through a walrus
+moustache.
+
+"I am employed here," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle started violently.
+
+"Employed here?"
+
+"As a dancer, you know. I..."
+
+Sally broke off, her attention abruptly diverted to something which
+had just caught her eye at a table on the other side of the room.
+That something was a red-headed young man of sturdy build who had just
+appeared beside the chair in which Mr. Reginald Cracknell was sitting
+in huddled gloom. In one hand he carried a basket, and from this basket,
+rising above the din of conversation, there came a sudden sharp yapping.
+Mr. Cracknell roused himself from his stupor, took the basket, raised
+the lid. The yapping increased in volume.
+
+Mr. Cracknell rose, the basket in his arms. With uncertain steps and a
+look on his face like that of those who lead forlorn hopes he crossed
+the floor to where Miss Mabel Hobson sat, proud and aloof. The next
+moment that haughty lady, the centre of an admiring and curious
+crowd, was hugging to her bosom a protesting Pekingese puppy, and Mr.
+Cracknell, seizing his opportunity like a good general, had deposited
+himself in a chair at her side. The course of true love was running
+smooth again.
+
+The red-headed young man was gazing fixedly at Sally.
+
+"As a dancer!" ejaculated Mr. Carmyle. Of all those within sight of the
+moving drama which had just taken place, he alone had paid no attention
+to it. Replete as it was with human interest, sex-appeal, the punch, and
+all the other qualities which a drama should possess, it had failed to
+grip him. His thoughts had been elsewhere. The accusing figure of Uncle
+Donald refused to vanish from his mental eye. The stern voice of Uncle
+Donald seemed still to ring in his ear.
+
+A dancer! A professional dancer at a Broadway restaurant! Hideous doubts
+began to creep like snakes into Bruce Carmyle's mind. What, he asked
+himself, did he really know of this girl on whom he had bestowed the
+priceless boon of his society for life? How did he know what she was--he
+could not find the exact adjective to express his meaning, but he knew
+what he meant. Was she worthy of the boon? That was what it amounted
+to. All his life he had had a prim shrinking from the section of the
+feminine world which is connected with the light-life of large cities.
+Club acquaintances of his in London had from time to time married into
+the Gaiety Chorus, and Mr. Carmyle, though he had no objection to
+the Gaiety Chorus in its proper place--on the other side of the
+footlights--had always looked on these young men after as social
+outcasts. The fine dashing frenzy which had brought him all the way from
+South Audley Street to win Sally was ebbing fast.
+
+Sally, hearing him speak, had turned. And there was a candid honesty
+in her gaze which for a moment sent all those creeping doubts scuttling
+away into the darkness whence they had come. He had not made a fool of
+himself, he protested to the lowering phantom of Uncle Donald. Who, he
+demanded, could look at Sally and think for an instant that she was not
+all that was perfect and lovable? A warm revulsion of feeling swept over
+Bruce Carmyle like a returning tide.
+
+"You see, I lost my money and had to do something," said Sally.
+
+"I see, I see," murmured Mr. Carmyle; and if only Fate had left him
+alone who knows to what heights of tenderness he might not have soared?
+But at this moment Fate, being no respecter of persons, sent into his
+life the disturbing personality of George Washington Williams.
+
+George Washington Williams was the talented coloured gentleman who
+had been extracted from small-time vaudeville by Mr. Abrahams to do
+a nightly speciality at the Flower Garden. He was, in fact, a
+trap-drummer: and it was his amiable practice, after he had done a few
+minutes trap-drumming, to rise from his seat and make a circular tour of
+the tables on the edge of the dancing-floor, whimsically pretending
+to clip the locks of the male patrons with a pair of drumsticks held
+scissor-wise. And so it came about that, just as Mr. Carmyle was bending
+towards Sally in an access of manly sentiment, and was on the very verge
+of pouring out his soul in a series of well-phrased remarks, he was
+surprised and annoyed to find an Ethiopian to whom he had never been
+introduced leaning over him and taking quite unpardonable liberties with
+his back hair.
+
+One says that Mr. Carmyle was annoyed. The word is weak. The
+interruption coming at such a moment jarred every ganglion in his body.
+The clicking noise of the drumsticks maddened him. And the gleaming
+whiteness of Mr. Williams' friendly and benignant smile was the last
+straw. His dignity writhed beneath this abominable infliction. People
+at other tables were laughing. At him. A loathing for the Flower Garden
+flowed over Bruce Carmyle, and with it a feeling of suspicion and
+disapproval of everyone connected with the establishment. He sprang to
+his feet.
+
+"I think I will be going," he said.
+
+Sally did not reply. She was watching Ginger, who still stood beside the
+table recently vacated by Reginald Cracknell.
+
+"Good night," said Mr. Carmyle between his teeth.
+
+"Oh, are you going?" said Sally with a start. She felt embarrassed. Try
+as she would, she was unable to find words of any intimacy. She tried to
+realize that she had promised to marry this man, but never before had he
+seemed so much a stranger to her, so little a part of her life. It came
+to her with a sensation of the incredible that she had done this thing,
+taken this irrevocable step.
+
+The sudden sight of Ginger had shaken her. It was as though in the last
+half-hour she had forgotten him and only now realized what marriage with
+Bruce Carmyle would mean to their comradeship. From now on he was dead
+to her. If anything in this world was certain that was. Sally Nicholas
+was Ginger's pal, but Mrs. Carmyle, she realized, would never be allowed
+to see him again. A devastating feeling of loss smote her like a blow.
+
+"Yes, I've had enough of this place," Bruce Carmyle was saying.
+
+"Good night," said Sally. She hesitated. "When shall I see you?" she
+asked awkwardly.
+
+It occurred to Bruce Carmyle that he was not showing himself at his
+best. He had, he perceived, allowed his nerves to run away with him.
+
+"You don't mind if I go?" he said more amiably. "The fact is, I can't
+stand this place any longer. I'll tell you one thing, I'm going to take
+you out of here quick."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't leave at a moment's notice," said Sally, loyal to
+her obligations.
+
+"We'll talk over that to-morrow. I'll call for you in the morning and
+take you for a drive somewhere in a car. You want some fresh air after
+this." Mr. Carmyle looked about him in stiff disgust, and expressed
+his unalterable sentiments concerning the Flower Garden, that apple of
+Isadore Abrahams' eye, in a snort of loathing. "My God! What a place!"
+
+He walked quickly away and disappeared. And Ginger, beaming happily,
+swooped on Sally's table like a homing pigeon.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+"Good Lord, I say, what ho!" cried Ginger. "Fancy meeting you here. What
+a bit of luck!" He glanced over his shoulder warily. "Has that blighter
+pipped?"
+
+"Pipped?"
+
+"Popped," explained Ginger. "I mean to say, he isn't coming back or any
+rot like that, is he?"
+
+"Mr. Carmyle? No, he has gone."
+
+"Sound egg!" said Ginger with satisfaction. "For a moment, when I saw
+you yarning away together, I thought he might be with your party. What
+on earth is he doing over here at all, confound him? He's got all Europe
+to play about in, why should he come infesting New York? I say, it
+really is ripping, seeing you again. It seems years... Of course, one
+get's a certain amount of satisfaction writing letters, but it's not the
+same. Besides, I write such rotten letters. I say, this really is rather
+priceless. Can't I get you something? A cup of coffee, I mean, or an egg
+or something? By jove! this really is top-hole."
+
+His homely, honest face glowed with pleasure, and it seemed to Sally as
+though she had come out of a winter's night into a warm friendly room.
+Her mercurial spirits soared.
+
+"Oh, Ginger! If you knew what it's like seeing you!"
+
+"No, really? Do you mean, honestly, you're braced?"
+
+"I should say I am braced."
+
+"Well, isn't that fine! I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"Forgotten you!"
+
+With something of the effect of a revelation it suddenly struck Sally
+how far she had been from forgetting him, how large was the place he had
+occupied in her thoughts.
+
+"I've missed you dreadfully," she said, and felt the words inadequate as
+she uttered them.
+
+"What ho!" said Ginger, also internally condemning the poverty of speech
+as a vehicle for conveying thought.
+
+There was a brief silence. The first exhilaration of the reunion over,
+Sally deep down in her heart was aware of a troubled feeling as though
+the world were out of joint. She forced herself to ignore it, but it
+would not be ignored. It grew. Dimly she was beginning to realize what
+Ginger meant to her, and she fought to keep herself from realizing it.
+Strange things were happening to her to-night, strange emotions stirring
+her. Ginger seemed somehow different, as if she were really seeing him
+for the first time.
+
+"You're looking wonderfully well," she said trying to keep the
+conversation on a pedestrian level.
+
+"I am well," said Ginger. "Never felt fitter in my life. Been out in the
+open all day long... simple life and all that... working like blazes.
+I say, business is booming. Did you see me just now, handing over Percy
+the Pup to what's-his-name? Five hundred dollars on that one deal. Got
+the cheque in my pocket. But what an extraordinarily rummy thing that
+I should have come to this place to deliver the goods just when you
+happened to be here. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. I say, I
+hope the people you're with won't think I'm butting in. You'll have to
+explain that we're old pals and that you started me in business and all
+that sort of thing. Look here," he said lowering his voice, "I know
+how you hate being thanked, but I simply must say how terrifically
+decent..."
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+Lee Schoenstein was standing at the table, and by his side an expectant
+youth with a small moustache and pince-nez. Sally got up, and the next
+moment Ginger was alone, gaping perplexedly after her as she vanished
+and reappeared in the jogging throng on the dancing floor. It was the
+nearest thing Ginger had seen to a conjuring trick, and at that moment
+he was ill-attuned to conjuring tricks. He brooded, fuming, at what
+seemed to him the supremest exhibition of pure cheek, of monumental
+nerve, and of undiluted crust that had ever come within his notice. To
+come and charge into a private conversation like that and whisk her away
+without a word...
+
+"Who was that blighter?" he demanded with heat, when the music ceased
+and Sally limped back.
+
+"That was Mr. Schoenstein."
+
+"And who was the other?"
+
+"The one I danced with? I don't know."
+
+"You don't know?"
+
+Sally perceived that the conversation had arrived at an embarrassing
+point. There was nothing for it but candour.
+
+"Ginger," she said, "you remember my telling you when we first met that
+I used to dance in a Broadway place? This is the place. I'm working
+again."
+
+Complete unintelligence showed itself on Ginger's every feature.
+
+"I don't understand," he said--unnecessarily, for his face revealed the
+fact.
+
+"I've got my old job back."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, I had to do something." She went on rapidly. Already a light
+dimly resembling the light of understanding was beginning to appear in
+Ginger's eyes. "Fillmore went smash, you know--it wasn't his fault, poor
+dear. He had the worst kind of luck--and most of my money was tied up in
+his business, so you see..."
+
+She broke off confused by the look in his eyes, conscious of an absurd
+feeling of guilt. There was amazement in that look and a sort of
+incredulous horror.
+
+"Do you mean to say..." Ginger gulped and started again. "Do you mean
+to tell me that you let me have... all that money... for the
+dog-business... when you were broke? Do you mean to say..."
+
+Sally stole a glance at his crimson face and looked away again quickly.
+There was an electric silence.
+
+"Look here," exploded Ginger with sudden violence, "you've got to marry
+me. You've jolly well got to marry me! I don't mean that," he added
+quickly. "I mean to say I know you're going to marry whoever you
+please... but won't you marry me? Sally, for God's sake have a dash
+at it! I've been keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather
+rotten to bother you about it, but now....Oh, dammit, I wish I could put
+it into words. I always was rotten at talking. But... well, look here,
+what I mean is, I know I'm not much of a chap, but it seems to me you
+must care for me a bit to do a thing like that for a fellow... and...
+I've loved you like the dickens ever since I met you... I do wish you'd
+have a stab at it, Sally. At least I could look after you, you know,
+and all that... I mean to say, work like the deuce and try to give you a
+good time... I'm not such an ass as to think a girl like you could ever
+really... er... love a blighter like me, but..."
+
+Sally laid her hand on his.
+
+"Ginger, dear," she said, "I do love you. I ought to have known it all
+along, but I seem to be understanding myself to-night for the first
+time." She got up and bent over him for a swift moment, whispering in
+his ear, "I shall never love anyone but you, Ginger. Will you try
+to remember that." She was moving away, but he caught at her arm and
+stopped her.
+
+"Sally..."
+
+She pulled her arm away, her face working as she fought against the
+tears that would not keep back.
+
+"I've made a fool of myself," she said. "Ginger, your cousin... Mr.
+Carmyle... just now he asked me to marry him, and I said I would."
+
+She was gone, flitting among the tables like some wild creature running
+to its home: and Ginger, motionless, watched her go.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+The telephone-bell in Sally's little sitting-room was ringing jerkily
+as she let herself in at the front door. She guessed who it was at the
+other end of the wire, and the noise of the bell sounded to her like the
+voice of a friend in distress crying for help. Without stopping to
+close the door, she ran to the table and unhooked the receiver. Muffled,
+plaintive sounds were coming over the wire.
+
+"Hullo... Hullo... I say... Hullo..."
+
+"Hullo, Ginger," said Sally quietly.
+
+An ejaculation that was half a shout and half gurgle answered her.
+
+"Sally! Is that you?"
+
+"Yes, here I am, Ginger."
+
+"I've been trying to get you for ages."
+
+"I've only just come in. I walked home."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Hullo."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, I mean..." Ginger seemed to be finding his usual difficulty in
+expressing himself. "About that, you know. What you said."
+
+"Yes?" said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
+
+"You said..." Again Ginger's vocabulary failed him. "You said you loved
+me."
+
+"Yes," said Sally simply.
+
+Another odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of
+silence before Ginger found himself able to resume.
+
+"I... I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet. I mean, it's no
+good trying to say what I think over the 'phone, I'm sort of knocked
+out. I never dreamed... But, I say, what did you mean about Bruce?"
+
+"I told you, I told you." Sally's face was twisted and the receiver
+shook in her hand. "I've made a fool of myself. I never realized... And
+now it's too late."
+
+"Good God!" Ginger's voice rose in a sharp wail. "You can't mean you
+really... You don't seriously intend to marry the man?"
+
+"I must. I've promised."
+
+"But, good heavens..."
+
+"It's no good. I must."
+
+"But the man's a blighter!"
+
+"I can't break my word."
+
+"I never heard such rot," said Ginger vehemently. "Of course you can. A
+girl isn't expected..."
+
+"I can't, Ginger dear, I really can't."
+
+"But look here..."
+
+"It's really no good talking about it any more, really it isn't... Where
+are you staying to-night?"
+
+"Staying? Me? At the Plaza. But look here..."
+
+Sally found herself laughing weakly.
+
+"At the Plaza! Oh, Ginger, you really do want somebody to look after
+you. Squandering your pennies like that... Well, don't talk any more
+now. It's so late and I'm so tired. I'll come and see you to-morrow.
+Good night."
+
+She hung up the receiver quickly, to cut short a fresh outburst of
+protest. And as she turned away a voice spoke behind her.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+Gerald Foster was standing in the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. SALLY LAYS A GHOST
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The blood flowed slowly back into Sally's face, and her heart, which
+had leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice, resumed its
+normal beat. The suddenness of the shock over, she was surprised to
+find herself perfectly calm. Always when she had imagined this meeting,
+knowing that it would have to take place sooner or later, she had felt
+something akin to panic: but now that it had actually occurred it hardly
+seemed to stir her. The events of the night had left her incapable of
+any violent emotion.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!" said Gerald.
+
+He spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he
+stood swaying with one hand on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves,
+collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily. His face
+was white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a sodden
+disreputableness.
+
+Sally did not speak. Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, she
+seemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tired
+nerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness. She
+looked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if he
+had been a stranger.
+
+"Hullo!" said Gerald again.
+
+"What do you want?" said Sally.
+
+"Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd come in."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+The weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald's face vanished. A tear
+rolled down his cheek. His intoxication had reached the maudlin stage.
+
+"Sally... S-Sally... I'm very miserable." He slurred awkwardly over the
+difficult syllables. "Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd
+come in."
+
+Something flicked at the back of Sally's mind. She seemed to have
+been through all this before. Then she remembered. This was simply Mr.
+Reginald Cracknell over again.
+
+"I think you had better go to bed, Gerald," she said steadily. Nothing
+about him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him nor his
+shameless misery.
+
+"What's the use? Can't sleep. No good. Couldn't sleep. Sally, you don't
+know how worried I am. I see what a fool I've been."
+
+Sally made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about
+to develop into a belated expression of regret for his treatment of
+herself. She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizing
+with tears for having done his best to wreck her life. But it seemed
+that it was not this that was weighing upon his soul.
+
+"I was a fool ever to try writing plays," he went on. "Got a winner
+first time, but can't repeat. It's no good. Ought to have stuck to
+newspaper work. I'm good at that. Shall have to go back to it. Had
+another frost to-night. No good trying any more. Shall have to go back
+to the old grind, damn it."
+
+He wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.
+
+"Very miserable," he murmured.
+
+He came forward a step into the room, lurched, and retreated to the safe
+support of the door. For an instant Sally's artificial calm was shot
+through by a swift stab of contempt. It passed, and she was back again
+in her armour of indifference.
+
+"Go to bed, Gerald," she said. "You'll feel better in the morning."
+
+Perhaps some inkling of how he was going to feel in the morning worked
+through to Gerald's muddled intelligence, for he winced, and his manner
+took on a deeper melancholy.
+
+"May not be alive in the morning," he said solemnly. "Good mind to
+end it all. End it all!" he repeated with the beginning of a sweeping
+gesture which was cut off abruptly as he clutched at the friendly door.
+
+Sally was not in the mood for melodrama.
+
+"Oh, go to bed," she said impatiently. The strange frozen indifference
+which had gripped her was beginning to pass, leaving in its place a
+growing feeling of resentment--resentment against Gerald for degrading
+himself like this, against herself for ever having found glamour in the
+man. It humiliated her to remember how utterly she had once allowed his
+personality to master hers. And under the sting of this humiliation she
+felt hard and pitiless. Dimly she was aware that a curious change had
+come over her to-night. Normally, the sight of any living thing in
+distress was enough to stir her quick sympathy: but Gerald mourning
+over the prospect of having to go back to regular work made no appeal to
+her--a fact which the sufferer noted and commented upon.
+
+"You're very unsymp... unsympathetic," he complained.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally. She walked briskly to the door and gave it a
+push. Gerald, still clinging to his chosen support, moved out into the
+passage, attached to the handle, with the air of a man the foundations
+of whose world have suddenly lost their stability. He released the
+handle and moved uncertainly across the passage. Finding his own door
+open before him, he staggered over the threshold; and Sally, having
+watched him safely to his journey's end, went into her bedroom with the
+intention of terminating this disturbing night by going to sleep.
+
+Almost immediately she changed her mind. Sleep was out of the question.
+A fever of restlessness had come upon her. She put on a kimono, and
+went into the kitchen to ascertain whether her commissariat arrangements
+would permit of a glass of hot milk.
+
+She had just remembered that she had that morning presented the last
+of the milk to a sandy cat with a purposeful eye which had dropped in
+through the window to take breakfast with her, when her regrets for this
+thriftless hospitality were interrupted by a muffled crash.
+
+She listened intently. The sound had seemed to come from across the
+passage. She hurried to the door and opened it. As she did so, from
+behind the door of the apartment opposite there came a perfect fusillade
+of crashes, each seeming to her strained hearing louder and more
+appalling than the last.
+
+There is something about sudden, loud noises in the stillness of the
+night which shatters the most rigid detachment. A short while before,
+Gerald, toying with the idea of ending his sorrows by violence, had
+left Sally unmoved: but now her mind leapt back to what he had said,
+and apprehension succeeded indifference. There was no disputing the fact
+that Gerald was in an irresponsible mood, under the influence of
+which he was capable of doing almost anything. Sally, listening in the
+doorway, felt a momentary panic.
+
+A brief silence had succeeded the fusillade, but, as she stood there
+hesitating, the noise broke out again; and this time it was so loud and
+compelling that Sally hesitated no longer. She ran across the passage
+and beat on the door.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Whatever devastating happenings had been going on in his home, it was
+plain a moment later that Gerald had managed to survive them: for there
+came the sound of a dragging footstep, and the door opened. Gerald stood
+on the threshold, the weak smile back on his face.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!"
+
+At the sight of him, disreputable and obviously unscathed, Sally's
+brief alarm died away, leaving in its place the old feeling of impatient
+resentment. In addition to her other grievances against him, he had
+apparently frightened her unnecessarily.
+
+"Whatever was all that noise?" she demanded.
+
+"Noise?" said Gerald, considering the point open-mouthed.
+
+"Yes, noise," snapped Sally.
+
+"I've been cleaning house," said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of a
+man just conscious that he is not wholly himself.
+
+Sally pushed her way past him. The apartment in which she found herself
+was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa
+Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly
+feminine way. Amateur interior decoration had always been a hobby
+of hers. Even in the unpromising surroundings of her bedroom at
+Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house she had contrived to create a certain
+daintiness which Sally, who had no ability in that direction herself,
+had always rather envied. As a decorator Elsa's mind ran in the
+direction of small, fragile ornaments, and she was not afraid of
+over-furnishing. Pictures jostled one another on the walls: china of all
+description stood about on little tables: there was a profusion of lamps
+with shades of parti-coloured glass: and plates were ranged along a
+series of shelves.
+
+One says that the plates were ranged and the pictures jostled one
+another, but it would be more correct to put it they had jostled and
+had been ranged, for it was only by guess-work that Sally was able
+to reconstruct the scene as it must have appeared before Gerald had
+started, as he put it, to clean house. She had walked into the flat
+briskly enough, but she pulled up short as she crossed the threshold,
+appalled by the majestic ruin that met her gaze. A shell bursting in the
+little sitting-room could hardly have created more havoc.
+
+The psychology of a man of weak character under the influence of alcohol
+and disappointed ambition is not easy to plumb, for his moods follow one
+another with a rapidity which baffles the observer. Ten minutes before,
+Gerald Foster had been in the grip of a clammy self-pity, and it seemed
+from his aspect at the present moment that this phase had returned. But
+in the interval there had manifestly occurred a brief but adequate
+spasm of what would appear to have been an almost Berserk fury. What had
+caused it and why it should have expended itself so abruptly, Sally was
+not psychologist enough to explain; but that it had existed there was
+ocular evidence of the most convincing kind. A heavy niblick, flung
+petulantly--or remorsefully--into a corner, showed by what medium the
+destruction had been accomplished.
+
+Bleak chaos appeared on every side. The floor was littered with every
+imaginable shape and size of broken glass and china. Fragments of
+pictures, looking as if they had been chewed by some prehistoric animal,
+lay amid heaps of shattered statuettes and vases. As Sally moved slowly
+into the room after her involuntary pause, china crackled beneath her
+feet. She surveyed the stripped walls with a wondering eye, and turned
+to Gerald for an explanation.
+
+Gerald had subsided on to an occasional table, and was weeping softly
+again. It had come over him once more that he had been very, very badly
+treated.
+
+"Well!" said Sally with a gasp. "You've certainly made a good job of
+it!"
+
+There was a sharp crack as the occasional table, never designed by its
+maker to bear heavy weights, gave way in a splintering flurry of broken
+legs under the pressure of the master of the house: and Sally's mood
+underwent an abrupt change. There are few situations in life which do
+not hold equal potentialities for both tragedy and farce, and it was
+the ludicrous side of this drama that chanced to appeal to Sally at
+this moment. Her sense of humour was tickled. It was, if she could have
+analysed her feelings, at herself that she was mocking--at the feeble
+sentimental Sally who had once conceived the absurd idea of taking this
+preposterous man seriously. She felt light-hearted and light-headed, and
+she sank into a chair with a gurgling laugh.
+
+The shock of his fall appeared to have had the desirable effect of
+restoring Gerald to something approaching intelligence. He picked
+himself up from the remains of a set of water-colours, gazing at Sally
+with growing disapproval.
+
+"No sympathy," he said austerely.
+
+"I can't help it," cried Sally. "It's too funny."
+
+"Not funny," corrected Gerald, his brain beginning to cloud once more.
+
+"What did you do it for?"
+
+Gerald returned for a moment to that mood of honest indignation, which
+had so strengthened his arm when wielding the niblick. He bethought him
+once again of his grievance.
+
+"Wasn't going to stand for it any longer," he said heatedly. "A fellow's
+wife goes and lets him down... ruins his show by going off and playing
+in another show... why shouldn't I smash her things? Why should I stand
+for that sort of treatment? Why should I?"
+
+"Well, you haven't," said Sally, "so there's no need to discuss it. You
+seem to have acted in a thoroughly manly and independent way."
+
+"That's it. Manly independent." He waggled his finger impressively.
+"Don't care what she says," he continued. "Don't care if she never comes
+back. That woman..."
+
+Sally was not prepared to embark with him upon a discussion of the
+absent Elsa. Already the amusing aspect of the affair had begun to fade,
+and her hilarity was giving way to a tired distaste for the sordidness
+of the whole business. She had become aware that she could not
+endure the society of Gerald Foster much longer. She got up and spoke
+decidedly.
+
+"And now," she said, "I'm going to tidy up."
+
+Gerald had other views.
+
+"No," he said with sudden solemnity. "No! Nothing of the kind. Leave it
+for her to find. Leave it as it is."
+
+"Don't be silly. All this has got to be cleaned up. I'll do it. You go
+and sit in my apartment. I'll come and tell you when you can come back."
+
+"No!" said Gerald, wagging his head.
+
+Sally stamped her foot among the crackling ruins. Quite suddenly the
+sight of him had become intolerable.
+
+"Do as I tell you," she cried.
+
+Gerald wavered for a moment, but his brief militant mood was ebbing
+fast. After a faint protest he shuffled off, and Sally heard him go into
+her room. She breathed a deep breath of relief and turned to her task.
+
+A visit to the kitchen revealed a long-handled broom, and, armed with
+this, Sally was soon busy. She was an efficient little person, and
+presently out of chaos there began to emerge a certain order. Nothing
+short of complete re-decoration would ever make the place look habitable
+again, but at the end of half an hour she had cleared the floor, and
+the fragments of vases, plates, lamp-shades, pictures and glasses were
+stacked in tiny heaps against the walls. She returned the broom to the
+kitchen, and, going back into the sitting-room, flung open the window
+and stood looking out.
+
+With a sense of unreality she perceived that the night had gone. Over
+the quiet street below there brooded that strange, metallic light which
+ushers in the dawn of a fine day. A cold breeze whispered to and fro.
+Above the house-tops the sky was a faint, level blue.
+
+She left the window and started to cross the room. And suddenly there
+came over her a feeling of utter weakness. She stumbled to a chair,
+conscious only of being tired beyond the possibility of a further
+effort. Her eyes closed, and almost before her head had touched the
+cushions she was asleep.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Sally woke. Sunshine was streaming through the open window, and with
+it the myriad noises of a city awake and about its business. Footsteps
+clattered on the sidewalk, automobile horns were sounding, and she could
+hear the clank of street cars as they passed over the points. She could
+only guess at the hour, but it was evident that the morning was well
+advanced. She got up stiffly. Her head was aching.
+
+She went into the bathroom, bathed her face, and felt better. The dull
+oppression which comes of a bad night was leaving her. She leaned out
+of the window, revelling in the fresh air, then crossed the passage and
+entered her own apartment. Stertorous breathing greeted her, and she
+perceived that Gerald Foster had also passed the night in a chair. He
+was sprawling by the window with his legs stretched out and his head
+resting on one of the arms, an unlovely spectacle.
+
+Sally stood regarding him for a moment with a return of the distaste
+which she had felt on the previous night. And yet, mingled with the
+distaste, there was a certain elation. A black chapter of her life was
+closed for ever. Whatever the years to come might bring to her, they
+would be free from any wistful yearnings for the man who had once been
+woven so inextricably into the fabric of her life. She had thought that
+his personality had gripped her too strongly ever to be dislodged,
+but now she could look at him calmly and feel only a faint half-pity,
+half-contempt. The glamour had departed.
+
+She shook him gently, and he sat up with a start, blinking in the strong
+light. His mouth was still open. He stared at Sally foolishly, then
+scrambled awkwardly out of the chair.
+
+"Oh, my God!" said Gerald, pressing both his hands to his forehead and
+sitting down again. He licked his lips with a dry tongue and moaned.
+"Oh, I've got a headache!"
+
+Sally might have pointed out to him that he had certainly earned one,
+but she refrained.
+
+"You'd better go and have a wash," she suggested.
+
+"Yes," said Gerald, heaving himself up again.
+
+"Would you like some breakfast?"
+
+"Don't!" said Gerald faintly, and tottered off to the bathroom.
+
+Sally sat down in the chair he had vacated. She had never felt quite
+like this before in her life. Everything seemed dreamlike. The splashing
+of water in the bathroom came faintly to her, and she realized that she
+had been on the point of falling asleep again. She got up and opened the
+window, and once more the air acted as a restorative. She watched the
+activities of the street with a distant interest. They, too, seemed
+dreamlike and unreal. People were hurrying up and down on mysterious
+errands. An inscrutable cat picked its way daintily across the road. At
+the door of the apartment house an open car purred sleepily.
+
+She was roused by a ring at the bell. She went to the door and opened
+it, and found Bruce Carmyle standing on the threshold. He wore a light
+motor-coat, and he was plainly endeavouring to soften the severity of
+his saturnine face with a smile of beaming kindliness.
+
+"Well, here I am!" said Bruce Carmyle cheerily. "Are you ready?"
+
+With the coming of daylight a certain penitence had descended on Mr.
+Carmyle. Thinking things over while shaving and subsequently in his
+bath, he had come to the conclusion that his behaviour overnight had not
+been all that could have been desired. He had not actually been brutal,
+perhaps, but he had undoubtedly not been winning. There had been an
+abruptness in the manner of his leaving Sally at the Flower Garden which
+a perfect lover ought not to have shown. He had allowed his nerves
+to get the better of him, and now he desired to make amends. Hence a
+cheerfulness which he did not usually exhibit so early in the morning.
+
+Sally was staring at him blankly. She had completely forgotten that he
+had said that he would come and take her for a drive this morning. She
+searched in her mind for words, and found none. And, as Mr. Carmyle
+was debating within himself whether to kiss her now or wait for a more
+suitable moment, embarrassment came upon them both like a fog, and the
+genial smile faded from his face as if the motive-power behind it had
+suddenly failed.
+
+"I've--er--got the car outside, and..."
+
+At this point speech failed Mr. Carmyle, for, even as he began the
+sentence, the door that led to the bathroom opened and Gerald Foster
+came out. Mr. Carmyle gaped at Gerald: Gerald gaped at Mr. Carmyle.
+
+The application of cold water to the face and head is an excellent thing
+on the morning after an imprudent night, but as a tonic it only goes
+part of the way. In the case of Gerald Foster, which was an extremely
+serious and aggravated case, it had gone hardly any way at all. The
+person unknown who had been driving red-hot rivets into the base of
+Gerald Foster's skull ever since the moment of his awakening was still
+busily engaged on that task. He gazed at Mr. Carmyle wanly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, and stood rigid. His
+eyes, burning now with a grim light, flickered over Gerald's person
+and found nothing in it to entertain them. He saw a slouching figure
+in shirt-sleeves and the foundations of evening dress, a disgusting,
+degraded figure with pink eyes and a white face that needed a shave. And
+all the doubts that had ever come to vex Mr. Carmyle's mind since his
+first meeting with Sally became on the instant certainties. So Uncle
+Donald had been right after all! This was the sort of girl she was!
+
+At his elbow the stout phantom of Uncle Donald puffed with satisfaction.
+
+"I told you so!" it said.
+
+Sally had not moved. The situation was beyond her. Just as if this had
+really been the dream it seemed, she felt incapable of speech or action.
+
+"So..." said Mr. Carmyle, becoming articulate, and allowed an impressive
+aposiopesis to take the place of the rest of the speech. A cold fury
+had gripped him. He pointed at Gerald, began to speak, found that he was
+stuttering, and gulped back the words. In this supreme moment he was not
+going to have his dignity impaired by a stutter. He gulped and found a
+sentence which, while brief enough to insure against this disaster, was
+sufficiently long to express his meaning.
+
+"Get out!" he said.
+
+Gerald Foster had his dignity, too, and it seemed to him that the time
+had come to assert it. But he also had a most excruciating headache, and
+when he drew himself up haughtily to ask Mr. Carmyle what the devil he
+meant by it, a severe access of pain sent him huddling back immediately
+to a safer attitude. He clasped his forehead and groaned.
+
+"Get out!"
+
+For a moment Gerald hesitated. Then another sudden shooting spasm
+convinced him that no profit or pleasure was to be derived from a
+continuance of the argument, and he began to shamble slowly across to
+the door. Bruce Carmyle watched him go with twitching hands. There was
+a moment when the human man in him, somewhat atrophied from long disuse,
+stirred him almost to the point of assault; then dignity whispered more
+prudent counsel in his ear, and Gerald was past the danger-zone and out
+in the passage. Mr. Carmyle turned to face Sally, as King Arthur on
+a similar but less impressive occasion must have turned to deal with
+Guinevere.
+
+"So..." he said again.
+
+Sally was eyeing him steadily--considering the circumstances, Mr.
+Carmyle thought with not a little indignation, much too steadily.
+
+"This," he said ponderously, "is very amusing."
+
+He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.
+
+"I might have expected it," said Mr. Carmyle with a bitter laugh.
+
+Sally forced herself from the lethargy which was gripping her.
+
+"Would you like me to explain?" she said.
+
+"There can be no explanation," said Mr. Carmyle coldly.
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Good-bye," said Bruce Carmyle.
+
+"Good-bye," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle walked to the door. There he stopped for an instant and
+glanced back at her. Sally had walked to the window and was looking out.
+For one swift instant something about her trim little figure and the
+gleam of her hair where the sunlight shone on it seemed to catch at
+Bruce Carmyle's heart, and he wavered. But the next moment he was strong
+again, and the door had closed behind him with a resolute bang.
+
+Out in the street, climbing into his car, he looked up involuntarily
+to see if she was still there, but she had gone. As the car, gathering
+speed, hummed down the street. Sally was at the telephone listening to
+the sleepy voice of Ginger Kemp, which, as he became aware who it
+was that had woken him from his rest and what she had to say to him,
+magically lost its sleepiness and took on a note of riotous ecstasy.
+
+Five minutes later, Ginger was splashing in his bath, singing
+discordantly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. JOURNEY'S END
+
+
+
+Darkness was beginning to gather slowly and with almost an apologetic
+air, as if it regretted the painful duty of putting an end to the
+perfect summer day. Over to the west beyond the trees there still
+lingered a faint afterglow, and a new moon shone like a silver sickle
+above the big barn. Sally came out of the house and bowed gravely three
+times for luck. She stood on the gravel, outside the porch, drinking in
+the sweet evening scents, and found life good.
+
+The darkness, having shown a certain reluctance at the start, was now
+buckling down to make a quick and thorough job of it. The sky turned
+to a uniform dark blue, picked out with quiet stars. The cement of the
+state road which led to Patchogue, Babylon, and other important centres
+ceased to be a pale blur and became invisible. Lights appeared in the
+windows of the houses across the meadows. From the direction of the
+kennels there came a single sleepy bark, and the small white woolly dog
+which had scampered out at Sally's heels stopped short and uttered a
+challenging squeak.
+
+The evening was so still that Ginger's footsteps, as he pounded along
+the road on his way back from the village, whither he had gone to buy
+provisions, evening papers, and wool for the sweater which Sally was
+knitting, were audible long before he turned in at the gate. Sally could
+not see him, but she looked in the direction of the sound and once again
+felt that pleasant, cosy thrill of happiness which had come to her every
+evening for the last year.
+
+"Ginger," she called.
+
+"What ho!"
+
+The woolly dog, with another important squeak, scuttled down the drive
+to look into the matter, and was coldly greeted. Ginger, for all his
+love of dogs, had never been able to bring himself to regard Toto with
+affection. He had protested when Sally, a month before, finding Mrs.
+Meecher distraught on account of a dreadful lethargy which had seized
+her pet, had begged him to offer hospitality and country air to the
+invalid.
+
+"It's wonderful what you've done for Toto, angel," said Sally, as he
+came up frigidly eluding that curious animal's leaps of welcome. "He's a
+different dog."
+
+"Bit of luck for him," said Ginger.
+
+"In all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher's I never knew him move at
+anything more rapid than a stately walk. Now he runs about all the
+time."
+
+"The blighter had been overeating from birth," said Ginger. "That was
+all that was wrong with him. A little judicious dieting put him right.
+We'll be able," said Ginger brightening, "to ship him back next week."
+
+"I shall quite miss him."
+
+"I nearly missed him--this morning--with a shoe," said Ginger. "He was
+up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and I took steps."
+
+"My cave-man!" murmured Sally. "I always said you had a frightfully
+brutal streak in you. Ginger, what an evening!"
+
+"Good Lord!" said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of the
+open kitchen door.
+
+"Now what?"
+
+He stopped and eyed her intently.
+
+"Do you know you're looking prettier than you were when I started down
+to the village!"
+
+Sally gave his arm a little hug.
+
+"Beloved!" she said. "Did you get the chops?"
+
+Ginger froze in his tracks, horrified.
+
+"Oh, my aunt! I clean forgot them!"
+
+"Oh, Ginger, you are an old chump. Well, you'll have to go in for a
+little judicious dieting, like Toto."
+
+"I say, I'm most awfully sorry. I got the wool."
+
+"If you think I'm going to eat wool..."
+
+"Isn't there anything in the house?"
+
+"Vegetables and fruit."
+
+"Fine! But, of course, if you want chops..."
+
+"Not at all. I'm spiritual. Besides, people say that vegetables are good
+for the blood-pressure or something. Of course you forgot to get the
+mail, too?"
+
+"Absolutely not! I was on to it like a knife. Two letters from fellows
+wanting Airedale puppies."
+
+"No! Ginger, we are getting on!"
+
+"Pretty bloated," agreed Ginger complacently. "Pretty bloated. We'll be
+able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on like this. There was
+a letter for you. Here it is."
+
+"It's from Fillmore," said Sally, examining the envelope as they went
+into the kitchen. "And about time, too. I haven't had a word from him
+for months."
+
+She sat down and opened the letter. Ginger, heaving himself on to the
+table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his
+evening paper. But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he
+lowered it and allowed his gaze to rest on Sally's bent head with a
+feeling of utter contentment.
+
+Although a married man of nearly a year's standing, Ginger was still
+moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable fully
+to realize that such bliss could be. Ginger in his time had seen many
+things that looked good from a distance, but not one that had borne the
+test of a closer acquaintance--except this business of marriage.
+
+Marriage, with Sally for a partner, seemed to be one of the very few
+things in the world in which there was no catch. His honest eyes glowed
+as he watched her. Sally broke into a little splutter of laughter.
+
+"Ginger, look at this!"
+
+He reached down and took the slip of paper which she held out to him.
+The following legend met his eye, printed in bold letters:
+
+                                 POPP'S
+
+                              OUTSTANDING
+
+                 SUCCULENT----APPETIZING----NUTRITIOUS.
+
+
+
+                        (JUST SAY "POP!" A CHILD
+
+                              CAN DO IT.)
+
+
+
+Ginger regarded this cipher with a puzzled frown.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"It's Fillmore."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+Sally gurgled.
+
+"Fillmore and Gladys have started a little restaurant in Pittsburg."
+
+"A restaurant!" There was a shocked note in Ginger's voice. Although
+he knew that the managerial career of that modern Napoleon, his
+brother-in-law, had terminated in something of a smash, he had
+never quite lost his reverence for one whom he considered a bit of a
+master-mind. That Fillmore Nicholas, the Man of Destiny, should have
+descended to conducting a restaurant--and a little restaurant at
+that--struck him as almost indecent.
+
+Sally, on the other hand--for sisters always seem to fail in proper
+reverence for the greatness of their brothers--was delighted.
+
+"It's the most splendid idea," she said with enthusiasm. "It really does
+look as if Fillmore was going to amount to something at last. Apparently
+they started on quite a small scale, just making pork-pies..."
+
+"Why Popp?" interrupted Ginger, ventilating a question which was
+perplexing him deeply.
+
+"Just a trade name, silly. Gladys is a wonderful cook, you know, and she
+made the pies and Fillmore toddled round selling them. And they did
+so well that now they've started a regular restaurant, and that's a
+success, too. Listen to this." Sally gurgled again and turned over the
+letter. "Where is it? Oh yes! '... sound financial footing. In fact, our
+success has been so instantaneous that I have decided to launch out on
+a really big scale. It is Big Ideas that lead to Big Business. I am
+contemplating a vast extension of this venture of ours, and in a very
+short time I shall organize branches in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and
+all the big cities, each in charge of a manager and each offering as
+a special feature, in addition to the usual restaurant cuisine, these
+Popp's Outstanding Pork-pies of ours. That done, and having established
+all these branches as going concerns, I shall sail for England and
+introduce Popp's Pork-pies there...' Isn't he a little wonder!"
+
+"Dashed brainy chap. Always said so."
+
+"I must say I was rather uneasy when I read that. I've seen so many of
+Fillmore's Big Ideas. That's always the way with him. He gets something
+good and then goes and overdoes it and bursts. However, it's all right
+now that he's got Gladys to look after him. She has added a postscript.
+Just four words, but oh! how comforting to a sister's heart. 'Yes, I
+don't think!' is what she says, and I don't know when I've read anything
+more cheering. Thank heaven, she's got poor dear Fillmore well in hand."
+
+"Pork-pies!" said Ginger, musingly, as the pangs of a healthy
+hunger began to assail his interior. "I wish he'd sent us one of the
+outstanding little chaps. I could do with it."
+
+Sally got up and ruffled his red hair.
+
+"Poor old Ginger! I knew you'd never be able to stick it. Come on, it's
+a lovely night, let's walk to the village and revel at the inn. We're
+going to be millionaires before we know where we are, so we can afford
+it."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+#26 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Adventures of Sally
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7464]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 4, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII, with a few ISO-8859-1 characters
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Tim Barnett
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+
+SALLY GIVES A PARTY
+
+
+
+1
+
+Sally looked contentedly down the long table.  She felt happy at last.
+Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after an
+uncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would be. The
+first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only too
+well aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had worn
+off; and the male and female patrons of Mrs. Meecher's select
+boarding-house (transient and residential) were themselves again.
+
+At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the
+great vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it.
+The next best thing to having money of one's own, is to dictate the
+spending of somebody else's, and Sally's guests were finding a good deal
+of satisfaction in arranging a Budget for her. Rumour having put the sum
+at their disposal at a high figure, their suggestions had certain
+spaciousness.
+
+"Let me tell you," said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, "what I'd do, if I
+were you." Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an intensely subordinate
+position in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown, the Wall Street brokers,
+always affected a brisk, incisive style of speech, as befitted a man in
+close touch with the great ones of Finance. "I'd sink a couple of
+hundred thousand in some good, safe bond-issue--we've just put one out
+which you would do well to consider--and play about with the rest. When
+I say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.
+Multiple Steel's worth looking at. They tell me it'll be up to a hundred
+and fifty before next Saturday."
+
+Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's
+left, had other views.
+
+"Buy a theatre.  Sally, and put on good stuff."
+
+"And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deep
+voice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the mild
+young man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the
+heavyweight championship. I've private information that Battling Tuke
+has been got at and means to lie down in the seventh..."
+
+"Say, listen," interrupted another voice, "lemme tell you what I'd do
+with four hundred thousand..."
+
+"If I had four hundred thousand," said Elsa Doland, "I know what would
+be the first thing I'd do."
+
+"What's that?" asked Sally.
+
+"Pay my bill for last week, due this morning."
+
+Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her
+friend's shoulder and whispered in her ear:
+
+"Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll..."
+
+Elsa Doland laughed.
+
+"You're an angel, Sally.  There's no one like you.  You'd give your last
+cent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from the
+road, and I've saved a fortune. I only said that to draw you."
+
+Sally returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had now
+divided itself into two schools of thought. The conservative and prudent
+element, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on three
+hundred thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe real estate;
+while the smaller, more sporting section, impressed by the mild young
+man's inside information, had already placed Sally's money on Benny
+Whistler, doling it out cautiously in small sums so as not to spoil the
+market. And so solid, it seemed, was Mr. Tuke's reputation with those in
+the inner circle of knowledge that the mild young man was confident
+that, if you went about the matter cannily and without precipitation,
+three to one might be obtained. It seemed to Sally that the time had
+come to correct certain misapprehensions.
+
+"I don't know where you get your figures," she said, "but I'm afraid
+they're wrong. I've just twenty-five thousand dollars."
+
+The statement had a chilling effect.  To these jugglers with
+half-millions the amount mentioned seemed for the moment almost too
+small to bother about. It was the sort of sum which they had been
+mentally setting aside for the heiress's car fare. Then they managed to
+adjust their minds to it. After all, one could do something even with a
+pittance like twenty-five thousand.
+
+"If I'd twenty-five thousand," said Augustus Bartlett, the first to
+rally from the shock, "I'd buy Amalgamated..."
+
+"If I had twenty-five thousand..." began Elsa Doland.
+
+"If I'd had twenty-five thousand in the year nineteen hundred," observed
+a gloomy-looking man with spectacles, "I could have started a revolution
+in Paraguay."
+
+He brooded sombrely on what might have been.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do," said Sally.  "I'm
+going to start with a trip to Europe... France, specially. I've heard
+France well spoken of--as soon as I can get my passport; and after I've
+loafed there for a few weeks, I'm coming back to look about and find
+some nice cosy little business which will let me put money into it and
+keep me in luxury. Are there any complaints?"
+
+"Even a couple of thousand on Benny Whistler..." said the mild young man.
+
+"I don't want your Benny Whistler," said Sally.  "I wouldn't have him if
+you gave him to me. If I want to lose money, I'll go to Monte Carlo and
+do it properly."
+
+"Monte Carlo," said the gloomy man, brightening up at the magic name.
+"I was in Monte Carlo in the year '97, and if I'd had another fifty
+dollars... just fifty... I'd have..."
+
+At the far end of the table there was a stir, a cough, and the grating
+of a chair on the floor; and slowly, with that easy grace which actors
+of the old school learned in the days when acting was acting, Mr.
+Maxwell Faucitt, the boarding-house's oldest inhabitant, rose to his
+feet.
+
+"Ladies," said Mr. Faucitt, bowing courteously, "and..." ceasing to bow
+and casting from beneath his white and venerable eyebrows a quelling
+glance at certain male members of the boarding-house's younger set who
+were showing a disposition towards restiveness, "... gentlemen. I feel
+that I cannot allow this occasion to pass without saying a few words."
+
+His audience did not seem surprised.  It was possible that life, always
+prolific of incident in a great city like New York, might some day
+produce an occasion which Mr. Faucitt would feel that he could allow to
+pass without saying a few words; but nothing of the sort had happened as
+yet, and they had given up hope. Right from the start of the meal they
+had felt that it would be optimism run mad to expect the old gentleman
+to abstain from speech on the night of Sally Nicholas' farewell dinner
+party; and partly because they had braced themselves to it, but
+principally because Miss Nicholas' hospitality had left them with a
+genial feeling of repletion, they settled themselves to listen with
+something resembling equanimity. A movement on the part of the
+Marvellous Murphys--new arrivals, who had been playing the Bushwick
+with their equilibristic act during the preceding week--to form a party
+of the extreme left and heckle the speaker, broke down under a cold look
+from their hostess. Brief though their acquaintance had been, both of
+these lissom young gentlemen admired Sally immensely.
+
+And it should be set on record that this admiration of theirs was not
+misplaced. He would have been hard to please who had not been attracted
+by Sally. She was a small, trim, wisp of a girl with the tiniest hands
+and feet, the friendliest of smiles, and a dimple that came and went in
+the curve of her rounded chin. Her eyes, which disappeared when she
+laughed, which was often, were a bright hazel; her hair a soft mass of
+brown. She had, moreover, a manner, an air of distinction lacking in the
+majority of Mrs. Meecher's guests. And she carried youth like a banner.
+In approving of Sally, the Marvellous Murphys had been guilty of no
+lapse from their high critical standard.
+
+"I have been asked," proceeded Mr. Faucitt, "though I am aware that
+there are others here far worthier of such a task--Brutuses compared
+with whom I, like Marc Antony, am no orator--I have been asked to
+propose the health..."
+
+"Who asked you?" It was the smaller of the Marvellous Murphys who spoke.
+He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty. Still, he could
+balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while
+revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
+
+"I have been asked," repeated Mr. Faucitt, ignoring the unmannerly
+interruption, which, indeed, he would have found it hard to answer, "to
+propose the health of our charming hostess (applause), coupled with
+the name of her brother, our old friend Fillmore Nicholas."
+
+The gentleman referred to, who sat at the speaker's end of the table,
+acknowledged the tribute with a brief nod of the head. It was a nod of
+condescension; the nod of one who, conscious of being hedged about by
+social inferiors, nevertheless does his best to be not unkindly. And
+Sally, seeing it, debated in her mind for an instant the advisability of
+throwing an orange at her brother. There was one lying ready to her
+hand, and his glistening shirt-front offered an admirable mark; but she
+restrained herself. After all, if a hostess yields to her primitive
+impulses, what happens? Chaos. She had just frowned down the exuberance
+of the rebellious Murphys, and she felt that if, even with the highest
+motives, she began throwing fruit, her influence for good in that
+quarter would be weakened.
+
+She leaned back with a sigh.  The temptation had been hard to resist.  A
+democratic girl, pomposity was a quality which she thoroughly disliked;
+and though she loved him, she could not disguise from herself that, ever
+since affluence had descended upon him some months ago, her brother
+Fillmore had become insufferably pompous. If there are any young men
+whom inherited wealth improves, Fillmore Nicholas was not one of them.
+He seemed to regard himself nowadays as a sort of Man of Destiny. To
+converse with him was for the ordinary human being like being received
+in audience by some more than stand-offish monarch. It had taken Sally
+over an hour to persuade him to leave his apartment on Riverside Drive
+and revisit the boarding-house for this special occasion; and, when he
+had come, he had entered wearing such faultless evening dress that he
+had made the rest of the party look like a gathering of tramp-cyclists.
+His white waistcoat alone was a silent reproach to honest poverty, and
+had caused an awkward constraint right through the soup and fish
+courses. Most of those present had known Fillmore Nicholas as an
+impecunious young man who could make a tweed suit last longer than one
+would have believed possible; they had called him "Fill" and helped him
+in more than usually lean times with small loans: but to-night they had
+eyed the waistcoat dumbly and shrank back abashed.
+
+"Speaking," said Mr. Faucitt, "as an Englishman--for though I have long
+since taken out what are technically known as my 'papers' it was as a
+subject of the island kingdom that I first visited this great country--I
+may say that the two factors in American life which have always made the
+profoundest impression upon me have been the lavishness of American
+hospitality and the charm of the American girl. To-night we have been
+privileged to witness the American girl in the capacity of hostess, and
+I think I am right in saying, in asseverating, in committing myself to
+the statement that his has been a night which none of us present here
+will ever forget. Miss Nicholas has given us, ladies and gentlemen, a
+banquet. I repeat, a banquet. There has been alcoholic refreshment. I do
+not know where it came from: I do not ask how it was procured, but we
+have had it. Miss Nicholas..."
+
+Mr. Faucitt paused to puff at his cigar.  Sally's brother Fillmore
+suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch. Sally continued to lean
+forward raptly. She knew how happy it made the old gentleman to deliver
+a formal speech; and though she wished the subject had been different,
+she was prepared to listen indefinitely.
+
+"Miss Nicholas," resumed Mr. Faucitt, lowering his cigar, "... But why,"
+he demanded abruptly, "do I call her Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Because it's her name," hazarded the taller Murphy.
+
+Mr. Faucitt eyed him with disfavour.  He disapproved of the marvellous
+brethren on general grounds because, himself a resident of years
+standing, he considered that these transients from the vaudeville stage
+lowered the tone of the boarding-house; but particularly because the one
+who had just spoken had, on his first evening in the place, addressed
+him as "grandpa."
+
+"Yes, sir," he said severely, "it is her name.  But she has another
+name, sweeter to those who love her, those who worship her, those who
+have watched her with the eye of sedulous affection through the three
+years she has spent beneath this roof, though that name," said Mr.
+Faucitt, lowering the tone of his address and descending to what might
+almost be termed personalities, "may not be familiar to a couple of dud
+acrobats who have only been in the place a week-end, thank heaven, and
+are off to-morrow to infest some other city. That name," said Mr.
+Faucitt, soaring once more to a loftier plane, "is Sally. Our Sally. For
+three years our Sally has flitted about this establishment like--I
+choose the simile advisedly--like a ray of sunshine. For three years she
+has made life for us a brighter, sweeter thing. And now a sudden access
+of worldly wealth, happily synchronizing with her twenty-first
+birthday, is to remove her from our midst. From our midst, ladies and
+gentlemen, but not from our hearts. And I think I may venture to hope,
+to prognosticate, that, whatever lofty sphere she may adorn in the
+future, to whatever heights in the social world she may soar, she will
+still continue to hold a corner in her own golden heart for the comrades
+of her Bohemian days. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our hostess, Miss
+Sally Nicholas, coupled with the name of our old friend, her brother
+Fillmore."
+
+Sally, watching her brother heave himself to his feet as the cheers died
+away, felt her heart beat a little faster with anticipation. Fillmore
+was a fluent young man, once a power in his college debating society,
+and it was for that reason that she had insisted on his coming here
+tonight.
+
+She had guessed that Mr. Faucitt, the old dear, would say all sorts of
+delightful things about her, and she had mistrusted her ability to make
+a fitting reply. And it was imperative that a fitting reply should
+proceed from someone. She knew Mr. Faucitt so well. He looked on these
+occasions rather in the light of scenes from some play; and, sustaining
+his own part in them with such polished grace, was certain to be pained
+by anything in the nature of an anti-climax after he should have ceased
+to take the stage. Eloquent himself, he must be answered with eloquence,
+or his whole evening would be spoiled.
+
+Fillmore Nicholas smoothed a wrinkle out of his white waistcoat; and
+having rested one podgy hand on the table-cloth and the thumb of the
+other in his pocket, glanced down the table with eyes so haughtily
+drooping that Sally's fingers closed automatically about her orange, as
+she wondered whether even now it might not be a good thing...
+
+It seems to be one of Nature's laws that the most attractive girls
+should have the least attractive brothers. Fillmore Nicholas had not
+worn well. At the age of seven he had been an extraordinarily beautiful
+child, but after that he had gone all to pieces; and now, at the age of
+twenty-five, it would be idle to deny that he was something of a mess.
+For the three years preceding his twenty-fifth birthday, restricted
+means and hard work had kept his figure in check; but with money there
+had come an ever-increasing sleekness. He looked as if he fed too often
+and too well.
+
+All this, however, Sally was prepared to forgive him, if he would only
+make a good speech. She could see Mr. Faucitt leaning back in his chair,
+all courteous attention. Rolling periods were meat and drink to the old
+gentleman.
+
+Fillmore spoke.
+
+"I'm sure," said Fillmore, "you don't want a speech...   Very good of
+you to drink our health. Thank you."
+
+He sat down.
+
+The effect of these few simple words on the company was marked, but not
+in every case identical. To the majority the emotion which they brought
+was one of unmixed relief. There had been something so menacing, so easy
+and practised, in Fillmore's attitude as he had stood there that the
+gloomier-minded had given him at least twenty minutes, and even the
+optimists had reckoned that they would be lucky if they got off with
+ten. As far as the bulk of the guests were concerned, there was no
+grumbling. Fillmore's, to their thinking, had been the ideal
+after-dinner speech.
+
+Far different was it with Mr. Maxwell Faucitt.  The poor old man was
+wearing such an expression of surprise and dismay as he might have worn
+had somebody unexpectedly pulled the chair from under him. He was
+feeling the sick shock which comes to those who tread on a non-existent
+last stair. And Sally, catching sight of his face, uttered a sharp
+wordless exclamation as if she had seen a child fall down and hurt
+itself in the street. The next moment she had run round the table and
+was standing behind him with her arms round his neck. She spoke across
+him with a sob in her voice.
+
+"My brother," she stammered, directing a malevolent look at the
+immaculate Fillmore, who, avoiding her gaze, glanced down his nose and
+smoothed another wrinkle out of his waistcoat, "has not said
+quite--quite all I hoped he was going to say. I can't make a speech,
+but..." Sally gulped, "... but, I love you all and of course I shall
+never forget you, and... and..."
+
+Here Sally kissed Mr. Faucitt and burst into tears.
+
+"There, there," said Mr. Faucitt, soothingly.  The kindest critic could
+not have claimed that Sally had been eloquent: nevertheless Mr. Maxwell
+Faucitt was conscious of no sense of anti-climax.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.
+The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-house
+immediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, who had
+furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into the
+night, had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly indignant
+sister. Her remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating sounds from the
+accused, had lasted some ten minutes.
+
+As she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubber
+ball which has been sat on. Dignified as he was to the world, he had
+never been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally when in
+one of these moods of hers. He regretted this, for it hurt his
+self-esteem, but he did not see how the fact could be altered. Sally had
+always been like that. Even the uncle, who after the deaths of their
+parents had become their guardian, had never, though a grim man, been
+able to cope successfully with Sally. In that last hectic scene three
+years ago, which had ended in their going out into the world, together
+like a second Adam and Eve, the verbal victory had been hers. And it had
+been Sally who had achieved triumph in the one battle which Mrs.
+Meecher, apparently as a matter of duty, always brought about with each
+of her patrons in the first week of their stay. A sweet-tempered girl,
+Sally, like most women of a generous spirit, had cyclonic
+potentialities.
+
+As she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till he
+had reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the defence.
+
+"What have I done?" demanded Fillmore plaintively.
+
+"Do you want to hear all over again?"
+
+"No, no," said Fillmore hastily.  "But, listen.  Sally, you don't
+understand my position. You don't seem to realize that all that sort of
+thing, all that boarding-house stuff, is a thing of the past. One's got
+beyond it. One wants to drop it. One wants to forget it, darn it! Be
+fair. Look at it from my viewpoint. I'm going to be a big man ..."
+
+"You're going to be a fat man," said Sally, coldly.
+
+Fillmore refrained from discussing the point.  He was sensitive.
+
+"I'm going to do big things," he substituted.  "I've got a deal on at
+this very moment which... well, I can't tell you about it, but it's
+going to be big. Well, what I'm driving at, is about all this sort of
+thing"--he indicated the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher's home-from-home
+with a wide gesture--"is that it's over. Finished and done with. These
+people were all very well when..."
+
+"... when you'd lost your week's salary at poker and wanted to borrow a
+few dollars for the rent."
+
+"I always paid them back," protested Fillmore, defensively.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Well, we did," said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the air of a
+man who has no time for chopping straws. "Anyway, what I mean is, I
+don't see why, just because one has known people at a certain period in
+one's life when one was practically down and out, one should have them
+round one's neck for ever. One can't prevent people forming an
+I-knew-him-when club, but, darn it, one needn't attend the meetings."
+
+"One's friends..."
+
+"Oh, friends," said Fillmore.  "That's just where all this makes me so
+tired. One's in a position where all these people are entitled to call
+themselves one's friends, simply because father put it in his will that
+I wasn't to get the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting me
+have it at twenty-one like anybody else. I wonder where I should have
+been by now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one."
+
+"In the poor-house, probably," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore was wounded.
+
+"Ah! you don't believe in me," he sighed.
+
+"Oh, you would be all right if you had one thing," said Sally.
+
+Fillmore passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.
+Brains? Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct. He
+wondered where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.
+
+"One thing?" he said.  "What's that?"
+
+"A nurse."
+
+Fillmore's sense of injury deepened.  He supposed that this was always
+the way, that those nearest to a man never believed in his ability till
+he had proved it so masterfully that it no longer required the
+assistance of faith. Still, it was trying; and there was not much
+consolation to be derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to go
+through this sort of thing in his day. "I shall find my place in the
+world," he said sulkily.
+
+"Oh, you'll find your place all right," said Sally.  "And I'll come
+round and bring you jelly and read to you on the days when visitors are
+allowed... Oh, hullo."
+
+The last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swinging
+briskly along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who now,
+coming abreast of them, stopped.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Foster."
+
+"Good evening.  Miss Nicholas."
+
+"You don't know my brother, do you?"
+
+"I don't believe I do."
+
+"He left the underworld before you came to it," said Sally.  "You
+wouldn't think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater among
+the proletariat, even as you and I. Mrs. Meecher looks on him as a son."
+
+The two men shook hands.  Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Foster with
+his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him. He was an
+Englishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed, and
+very good to look at. Fillmore, who had recently been going in for one
+of those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the better to fit
+himself for his career of greatness, was rather impressed. It seemed to
+him that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was one of those who Get There.
+If you are that kind yourself, you get into the knack of recognizing the
+others. It is a sort of gift.
+
+There was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind that
+usually follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorry to
+get the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival to
+remove himself. He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it seemed
+probable that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less. He was glad
+that Mr. Foster had happened along at this particular juncture. Excusing
+himself briefly, he hurried off down the street.
+
+Sally stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round
+the corner. She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too
+late, she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would
+have been agreeable to say to him. And it had become obvious to her that
+Fillmore was not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing said to him
+nowadays. Then she dismissed him from her mind and turning to Gerald
+Foster, slipped her arm through his.
+
+"Well, Jerry, darling," she said.  "What a shame you couldn't come to
+the party. Tell me all about everything."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was exactly two months since Sally had become engaged to Gerald
+Foster; but so rigorously had they kept the secret that nobody at Mrs.
+Meecher's so much as suspected it. To Sally, who all her life had hated
+concealing things, secrecy of any kind was objectionable: but in this
+matter Gerald had shown an odd streak almost of furtiveness in his
+character. An announced engagement complicated life. People fussed about
+you and bothered you. People either watched you or avoided you. Such
+were his arguments, and Sally, who would have glossed over and found
+excuses for a disposition on his part towards homicide or arson, put
+them down to artistic sensitiveness. There is nobody so sensitive as
+your artist, particularly if he be unsuccessful: and when an artist has
+so little success that he cannot afford to make a home for the woman he
+loves, his sensitiveness presumably becomes great indeed. Putting
+herself in his place, Sally could see that a protracted engagement,
+known by everybody, would be a standing advertisement of Gerald's
+failure to make good: and she acquiesced in the policy of secrecy,
+hoping that it would not last long. It seemed absurd to think of Gerald
+as an unsuccessful man. He had in him, as the recent Fillmore had
+perceived, something dynamic. He was one of those men of whom one could
+predict that they would succeed very suddenly and rapidly--overnight, as
+it were.
+
+"The party," said Sally, "went off splendidly." They had passed the
+boarding-house door, and were walking slowly down the street. "Everybody
+enjoyed themselves, I think, even though Fillmore did his best to spoil
+things by coming looking like an advertisement of What The Smart Men
+Will Wear This Season. You didn't see his waistcoat just now. He had
+covered it up. Conscience, I suppose. It was white and bulgy and
+gleaming and full up of pearl buttons and everything. I saw Augustus
+Bartlett curl up like a burnt feather when he caught sight of it. Still,
+time seemed to heal the wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit. Mr.
+Faucitt made a speech and I made a speech and cried, and ...oh, it was all
+very festive. It only needed you."
+
+"I wish I could have come.  I had to go to that dinner, though.
+Sally..." Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with
+suppressed excitement. "Sally, the play's going to be put on!"
+
+Sally gave a little gasp.  She had lived this moment in anticipation for
+weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She
+had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were
+wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also
+admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was
+another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr.
+Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider
+that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with
+a future who would do something big directly she got her chance.
+
+"Jerry!" She gave his arm a hug.  "How simply terrific! Then Goble and
+Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would."
+
+A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.
+
+"No, not that one," he said reluctantly.  "No hope there, I'm afraid.  I
+saw Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right.
+The one that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember?
+It's got a big part for a girl in it."
+
+"Of course! The one Elsa liked so much.  Well, that's just as good.
+Who's going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again."
+
+"Well, it happens..." Gerald hesitated once more.  "It seems that this
+man I was dining with to-night--a man named Cracknell..."
+
+"Cracknell? Not the Cracknell?"
+
+"The Cracknell?"
+
+"The one people are always talking about.  The man they call the
+Millionaire Kid."
+
+"Yes.  Why, do you know him?"
+
+"He was at Harvard with Fillmore.  I never saw him, but he must be
+rather a painful person."
+
+"Oh, he's all right.  Not much brains, of course, but--well, he's all
+right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on."
+
+"Well, that's splendid," said Sally: but she could not get the right
+ring of enthusiasm into her voice. She had had ideals for Gerald. She
+had dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under the banner of
+one of the big managers whose name carried a prestige, and there seemed
+something unworthy in this association with a man whose chief claim to
+eminence lay in the fact that he was credited by metropolitan gossip
+with possessing the largest private stock of alcohol in existence.
+
+"I thought you would be pleased," said Gerald.
+
+"Oh, I am," said Sally.
+
+With the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had
+already begun to cast off her momentary depression. After all, did it
+matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A
+manager was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if he
+had money for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer
+sensibilities from him? The real thing that mattered was the question of
+who was going to play the leading part, that deftly drawn character
+which had so excited the admiration of Elsa Doland. She sought
+information on this point.
+
+"Who will play Ruth?" she asked.  "You must have somebody wonderful.
+It needs a tremendously clever woman. Did Mr. Cracknell say anything
+about that?"
+
+"Oh, yes, we discussed that, of course."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, it seems..." Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy
+embarrassment. Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night
+without feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a
+dark alley. She noticed it the more because it was so different from his
+usual direct method. Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who
+apologize for themselves. He was forthright and masterful and inclined
+to talk to her from a height. To-night he seemed different.
+
+He broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.
+
+"Do you know Mabel Hobson?"
+
+"Mabel Hobson? I've seen her in the 'Follies,' of course."
+
+Sally started.  A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its
+absurdity became manifest the moment it had formed. And yet was it
+absurd? Most Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the
+boarding-house, chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the
+mild young man who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler,
+and she was aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always
+getting itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss
+Hobson. It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth, for
+the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts the
+Cracknells of this world. But even so...
+
+"It seems that Cracknell..." said Gerald. "Apparently this man
+Cracknell..." He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat
+trying. "Well, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and...
+well, he thinks this part would suit her."
+
+"Oh, Jerry!"
+
+Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of
+a Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as
+to make him entrust a part like Ruth in "The Primrose Way" to one who,
+when desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses
+across the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that
+she had not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald
+could perceive that this was not the stuff of which great emotional
+actresses are made.
+
+"Oh, Jerry!" she said again.
+
+There was an uncomfortable silence.  They turned and walked back in the
+direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get
+itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache
+that was almost like a physical pain.
+
+"Jerry! Is it worth it?" she burst out vehemently.
+
+The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his
+usual decisive speech.
+
+"Worth it? Of course it's worth it.  It's a Broadway production.
+That's all that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to
+get a play on Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away
+my chance when it comes along just because one might do better in the
+way of casting."
+
+"But, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first
+degree."
+
+"Nonsense.  She'll be all right.  The part will play itself.  Besides,
+she has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the
+money in the world to make the thing a success. And it will be a start,
+whatever happens. Of course, it's worth it."
+
+Fillmore would have been impressed by this speech.  He would have
+recognized and respected in it the unmistakable ring which characterizes
+even the lightest utterances of those who get there. On Sally it had not
+immediately that effect. Nevertheless, her habit of making the best of
+things, working together with that primary article of her creed that the
+man she loved could do no wrong, succeeded finally in raising her
+spirits. Of course Jerry was right. It would have been foolish to refuse
+a contract because all its clauses were not ideal.
+
+"You old darling," she said affectionately attaching herself to the
+vacant arm once more and giving it a penitent squeeze, "you're quite
+right. Of course you are. I can see it now. I was only a little startled
+at first. Everything's going to be wonderful. Let's get all our chickens
+out and count 'em. How are you going to spend the money?"
+
+"I know how I'm going to spend a dollar of it," said Gerald completely
+restored.
+
+"I mean the big money.  What's a dollar?"
+
+"It pays for a marriage-licence."
+
+Sally gave his arm another squeeze.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," she said.  "Look at this man.  Observe him.  My
+partner!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+ENTER GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally was sitting with her back against a hillock of golden sand,
+watching with half-closed eyes the denizens of Roville-sur-Mer at their
+familiar morning occupations. At Roville, as at most French seashore
+resorts, the morning is the time when the visiting population assembles
+in force on the beach. Whiskered fathers of families made cheerful
+patches of colour in the foreground. Their female friends and relatives
+clustered in groups under gay parasols. Dogs roamed to and fro, and
+children dug industriously with spades, ever and anon suspending their
+labours in order to smite one another with these handy implements. One
+of the dogs, a poodle of military aspect, wandered up to Sally: and
+discovering that she was in possession of a box of sweets, decided to
+remain and await developments.
+
+Few things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them, but Sally's
+vacation had proved an exception to this rule. It had been a magic month
+of lazy happiness. She had drifted luxuriously from one French town to
+another, till the charm of Roville, with its blue sky, its Casino, its
+snow-white hotels along the Promenade, and its general glitter and
+gaiety, had brought her to a halt. Here she could have stayed
+indefinitely, but the voice of America was calling her back. Gerald had
+written to say that "The Primrose Way" was to be produced in Detroit,
+preliminary to its New York run, so soon that, if she wished to see the
+opening, she must return at once. A scrappy, hurried, unsatisfactory
+letter, the letter of a busy man: but one that Sally could not ignore.
+She was leaving Roville to-morrow.
+
+To-day, however, was to-day: and she sat and watched the bathers with a
+familiar feeling of peace, revelling as usual in the still novel
+sensation of having nothing to do but bask in the warm sunshine and
+listen to the faint murmur of the little waves.
+
+But, if there was one drawback, she had discovered, to a morning on the
+Roville plage, it was that you had a tendency to fall asleep: and this
+is a degrading thing to do so soon after breakfast, even if you are on a
+holiday. Usually, Sally fought stoutly against the temptation, but
+to-day the sun was so warm and the whisper of the waves so insinuating
+that she had almost dozed off, when she was aroused by voices close at
+hand. There were many voices on the beach, both near and distant, but
+these were talking English, a novelty in Roville, and the sound of the
+familiar tongue jerked Sally back from the borders of sleep. A few feet
+away, two men had seated themselves on the sand.
+
+From the first moment she had set out on her travels, it had been one of
+Sally's principal amusements to examine the strangers whom chance threw
+in her way and to try by the light of her intuition to fit them out with
+characters and occupations: nor had she been discouraged by an almost
+consistent failure to guess right. Out of the corner of her eye she
+inspected these two men.
+
+The first of the pair did not attract her.  He was a tall, dark man
+whose tight, precise mouth and rather high cheeks bones gave him an
+appearance vaguely sinister. He had the dusky look of the clean-shaven
+man whose life is a perpetual struggle with a determined beard. He
+certainly shaved twice a day, and just as certainly had the self-control
+not to swear when he cut himself. She could picture him smiling nastily
+when this happened.
+
+"Hard," diagnosed Sally.  "I shouldn't like him.  A lawyer or something,
+I think."
+
+She turned to the other and found herself looking into his eyes.  This
+was because he had been staring at Sally with the utmost intentness ever
+since his arrival. His mouth had opened slightly. He had the air of a
+man who, after many disappointments, has at last found something worth
+looking at.
+
+"Rather a dear," decided Sally.
+
+He was a sturdy, thick-set young man with an amiable, freckled face and
+the reddest hair Sally had ever seen. He had a square chin, and at one
+angle of the chin a slight cut. And Sally was convinced that, however he
+had behaved on receipt of that wound, it had not been with superior
+self-control.
+
+"A temper, I should think," she meditated.  "Very quick, but soon over.
+Not very clever, I should say, but nice."
+
+She looked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.
+
+The dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one
+felt, characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting a
+cigarette in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and
+resumed the conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by the
+process of sitting down.
+
+"And how is Scrymgeour?" he inquired.
+
+"Oh, all right," replied the young man with red hair absently.  Sally
+was looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his eyes were
+still busy.
+
+"I was surprised at his being here.  He told me he meant to stay in
+Paris."
+
+There was a slight pause.  Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
+nougat.
+
+"I say," observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating tones
+that vibrated with intense feeling, "that's the prettiest girl I've seen
+in my life!"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+At this frank revelation of the red-haired young man's personal
+opinions, Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased. A
+broad-minded girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on a
+matter of public interest. The young man's companion, on the other hand,
+was unmixedly shocked.
+
+"My dear fellow!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Oh, it's all right," said the red-haired young man, unmoved.  "She
+can't understand. There isn't a bally soul in this dashed place that can
+speak a word of English. If I didn't happen to remember a few odd bits
+of French, I should have starved by this time. That girl," he went on,
+returning to the subject most imperatively occupying his mind, "is an
+absolute topper! I give you my solemn word I've never seen anybody to
+touch her. Look at those hands and feet. You don't get them outside
+France. Of course, her mouth is a bit wide," he said reluctantly.
+
+Sally's immobility, added to the other's assurance concerning the
+linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to
+reassure the dark man. He breathed again. At no period of his life had
+he ever behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness
+himself, but he had quailed at the idea of being associated even
+remotely with incorrectness in another. It had been a black moment for
+him when the red-haired young man had uttered those few kind words.
+
+"Still you ought to be careful," he said austerely.
+
+He looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the
+poodle and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and
+returned to the topic of the mysterious Scrymgeour.
+
+"How is Scrymgeour's dyspepsia?"
+
+The red-haired young man seemed but faintly interested in the
+vicissitudes of Scrymgeour's interior.
+
+"Do you notice the way her hair sort of curls over her ears?" he said.
+"Eh? Oh, pretty much the same, I think."
+
+"What hotel are you staying at?"
+
+"The Normandie."
+
+Sally, dipping into the box for another chocolate cream, gave an
+imperceptible start. She, too, was staying at the Normandie. She
+presumed that her admirer was a recent arrival, for she had seen nothing
+of him at the hotel.
+
+"The Normandie?" The dark man looked puzzled.  "I know Roville pretty
+well by report, but I've never heard of any Hotel Normandie. Where is
+it?"
+
+"It's a little shanty down near the station.  Not much of a place.
+Still, it's cheap, and the cooking's all right."
+
+His companion's bewilderment increased.
+
+"What on earth is a man like Scrymgeour doing there?" he said.  Sally
+was conscious of an urgent desire to know more and more about the absent
+Scrymgeour. Constant repetition of his name had made him seem almost
+like an old friend. "If there's one thing he's fussy about..."
+
+"There are at least eleven thousand things he's fussy about,"
+interrupted the red-haired young man disapprovingly. "Jumpy old
+blighter!"
+
+"If there's one thing he's particular about, it's the sort of hotel he
+goes to. Ever since I've known him he has always wanted the best. I
+should have thought he would have gone to the Splendide." He mused on
+this problem in a dissatisfied sort of way for a moment, then seemed to
+reconcile himself to the fact that a rich man's eccentricities must be
+humoured. "I'd like to see him again. Ask him if he will dine with me at
+the Splendide to-night. Say eight sharp."
+
+Sally, occupied with her dogs, whose numbers had now been augmented by a
+white terrier with a black patch over its left eye, could not see the
+young man's face: but his voice, when he replied, told her that
+something was wrong. There was a false airiness in it.
+
+"Oh, Scrymgeour isn't in Roville."
+
+"No? Where is he?"
+
+"Paris, I believe."
+
+"What!" The dark man's voice sharpened.  He sounded as though he were
+cross-examining a reluctant witness. "Then why aren't you there? What
+are you doing here? Did he give you a holiday?"
+
+"Yes, he did."
+
+"When do you rejoin him?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"What!"
+
+The red-haired young man's manner was not unmistakably dogged.
+
+"Well, if you want to know," he said, "the old blighter fired me the day
+before yesterday."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+There was a shuffling of sand as the dark man sprang up.  Sally, intent
+on the drama which was unfolding itself beside her, absent-mindedly gave
+the poodle a piece of nougat which should by rights have gone to the
+terrier. She shot a swift glance sideways, and saw the dark man standing
+in an attitude rather reminiscent of the stern father of melodrama about
+to drive his erring daughter out into the snow. The red-haired young
+man, outwardly stolid, was gazing before him down the beach at a fat
+bather in an orange suit who, after six false starts, was now actually
+in the water, floating with the dignity of a wrecked balloon.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," demanded the dark man, "that, after all the
+trouble the family took to get you what was practically a sinecure with
+endless possibilities if you only behaved yourself, you have
+deliberately thrown away..." A despairing gesture completed the
+sentence. "Good God, you're hopeless!"
+
+The red-haired young man made no reply.  He continued to gaze down the
+beach. Of all outdoor sports, few are more stimulating than watching
+middle-aged Frenchmen bathe. Drama, action, suspense, all are here. From
+the first stealthy testing of the water with an apprehensive toe to the
+final seal-like plunge, there is never a dull moment. And apart from the
+excitement of the thing, judging it from a purely aesthetic standpoint,
+his must be a dull soul who can fail to be uplifted by the spectacle of
+a series of very stout men with whiskers, seen in tight bathing suits
+against a background of brightest blue. Yet the young man with red hair,
+recently in the employment of Mr. Scrymgeour, eyed this free circus
+without any enjoyment whatever.
+
+"It's maddening! What are you going to do? What do you expect us to do?
+Are we to spend our whole lives getting you positions which you won't
+keep? I can tell you we're... it's monstrous! It's sickening! Good God!"
+
+And with these words the dark man, apparently feeling, as Sally had
+sometimes felt in the society of her brother Fillmore, the futility of
+mere language, turned sharply and stalked away up the beach, the dignity
+of his exit somewhat marred a moment later by the fact of his straw hat
+blowing off and being trodden on by a passing child.
+
+He left behind him the sort of electric calm which follows the falling
+of a thunderbolt; that stunned calm through which the air seems still to
+quiver protestingly. How long this would have lasted one cannot say: for
+towards the end of the first minute it was shattered by a purely
+terrestrial uproar. With an abruptness heralded only by one short, low
+gurgling snarl, there sprang into being the prettiest dog fight that
+Roville had seen that season.
+
+It was the terrier with the black patch who began it.  That was Sally's
+opinion: and such, one feels, will be the verdict of history. His best
+friend, anxious to make out a case for him, could not have denied that
+he fired the first gun of the campaign. But we must be just. The fault
+was really Sally's. Absorbed in the scene which had just concluded and
+acutely inquisitive as to why the shadowy Scrymgeour had seen fit to
+dispense with the red-haired young man's services, she had thrice in
+succession helped the poodle out of his turn. The third occasion was too
+much for the terrier.
+
+There is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the
+average mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast
+clashing of the elements. It seems so outside one's jurisdiction. One is
+oppressed with a sense of the futility of interference. And this was no
+ordinary dog fight. It was a stunning mêlée, which would have excited
+favourable comment even among the blasé residents of a negro quarter or
+the not easily-pleased critics of a Lancashire mining-village. From all
+over the beach dogs of every size, breed, and colour were racing to the
+scene: and while some of these merely remained in the ringside seats and
+barked, a considerable proportion immediately started fighting one
+another on general principles, well content to be in action without
+bothering about first causes. The terrier had got the poodle by the left
+hind-leg and was restating his war-aims. The raffish mongrel was
+apparently endeavouring to fletcherize a complete stranger of the
+Sealyham family.
+
+Sally was frankly unequal to the situation, as were the entire crowd of
+spectators who had come galloping up from the water's edge. She had been
+paralysed from the start. Snarling bundles bumped against her legs and
+bounced away again, but she made no move. Advice in fluent French rent
+the air. Arms waved, and well-filled bathing suits leaped up and down.
+But nobody did anything practical until in the centre of the theatre of
+war there suddenly appeared the red-haired young man.
+
+The only reason why dog fights do not go on for ever is that Providence
+has decided that on each such occasion there shall always be among those
+present one Master Mind; one wizard who, whatever his shortcomings in
+other battles of life, is in this single particular sphere competent and
+dominating. At Roville-sur-Mer it was the red-haired young man. His dark
+companion might have turned from him in disgust: his services might not
+have seemed worth retaining by the haughty Scrymgeour: he might be a
+pain in the neck to "the family"; but he did know how to stop a dog
+fight. From the first moment of his intervention calm began to steal
+over the scene. He had the same effect on the almost inextricably
+entwined belligerents as, in mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail, sliding
+down the sunbeam, used to have on battling knights. He did not look like
+a dove of peace, but the most captious could not have denied that he
+brought home the goods. There was a magic in his soothing hands, a spell
+in his voice: and in a shorter time than one would have believed
+possible dog after dog had been sorted out and calmed down; until
+presently all that was left of Armageddon was one solitary small Scotch
+terrier, thoughtfully licking a chewed leg. The rest of the combatants,
+once more in their right mind and wondering what all the fuss was about,
+had been captured and haled away in a whirl of recrimination by voluble
+owners.
+
+Having achieved this miracle, the young man turned to Sally.  Gallant,
+one might say reckless, as he had been a moment before, he now gave
+indications of a rather pleasing shyness. He braced himself with that
+painful air of effort which announces to the world that an Englishman is
+about to speak a language other than his own.
+
+"J'espère," he said, having swallowed once or twice to brace himself up
+for the journey through the jungle of a foreign tongue, "J'espère que
+vous n'êtes pas--oh, dammit, what's the word--J'espère que vous n'êtes
+pas blessée?"
+
+"Blessée?"
+
+"Yes, blessée.  Wounded.  Hurt, don't you know.  Bitten.  Oh, dash it.
+J'espère..."
+
+"Oh, bitten!" said Sally, dimpling.  "Oh, no, thanks very much.  I
+wasn't bitten. And I think it was awfully brave of you to save all our
+lives."
+
+The compliment seemed to pass over the young man's head.  He stared at
+Sally with horrified eyes. Over his amiable face there swept a vivid
+blush. His jaw dropped.
+
+"Oh, my sainted aunt!" he ejaculated.
+
+Then, as if the situation was too much for him and flights the only
+possible solution, he spun round and disappeared at a walk so rapid that
+it was almost a run. Sally watched him go and was sorry that he had torn
+himself away. She still wanted to know why Scrymgeour had fired him.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Bedtime at Roville is an hour that seems to vary according to one's
+proximity to the sea. The gilded palaces along the front keep deplorable
+hours, polluting the night air till dawn with indefatigable jazz: but at
+the pensions of the economical like the Normandie, early to bed is the
+rule. True, Jules, the stout young native who combined the offices of
+night-clerk and lift attendant at that establishment, was on duty in the
+hall throughout the night, but few of the Normandie's patrons made use
+of his services.
+
+Sally, entering shortly before twelve o'clock on the night of the day on
+which the dark man, the red-haired young man, and their friend
+Scrymgeour had come into her life, found the little hall dim and silent.
+Through the iron cage of the lift a single faint bulb glowed: another,
+over the desk in the far corner, illuminated the upper half of Jules,
+slumbering in a chair. Jules seemed to Sally to be on duty in some
+capacity or other all the time. His work, like women's, was never done.
+He was now restoring his tissues with a few winks of much-needed beauty
+sleep. Sally, who had been to the Casino to hear the band and afterwards
+had strolled on the moonlit promenade, had a guilty sense of intrusion.
+
+As she stood there, reluctant to break in on Jules' rest--for her
+sympathetic heart, always at the disposal of the oppressed, had long
+ached for this overworked peon--she was relieved to hear footsteps in
+the street outside, followed by the opening of the front door. If Jules
+would have had to wake up anyway, she felt her sense of responsibility
+lessened. The door, having opened, closed again with a bang. Jules
+stirred, gurgled, blinked, and sat up, and Sally, turning, perceived
+that the new arrival was the red-haired young man.
+
+"Oh, good evening," said Sally welcomingly.
+
+The young man stopped, and shuffled uncomfortably.  The morning's
+happenings were obviously still green in his memory. He had either not
+ceased blushing since their last meeting or he was celebrating their
+reunion by beginning to blush again: for his face was a familiar
+scarlet.
+
+"Er--good evening," he said, disentangling his feet, which, in the
+embarrassment of the moment, had somehow got coiled up together.
+
+"Or bon soir, I suppose you would say," murmured Sally.
+
+The young man acknowledged receipt of this thrust by dropping his hat
+and tripping over it as he stooped to pick it up.
+
+Jules, meanwhile, who had been navigating in a sort of somnambulistic
+trance in the neighbourhood of the lift, now threw back the cage with a
+rattle.
+
+"It's a shame to have woken you up," said Sally, commiseratingly,
+stepping in.
+
+Jules did not reply, for the excellent reason that he had not been woken
+up. Constant practice enabled him to do this sort of work without
+breaking his slumber. His brain, if you could call it that, was working
+automatically. He had shut up the gate with a clang and was tugging
+sluggishly at the correct rope, so that the lift was going slowly up
+instead of retiring down into the basement, but he was not awake.
+
+Sally and the red-haired young man sat side by side on the small seat,
+watching their conductor's efforts. After the first spurt, conversation
+had languished. Sally had nothing of immediate interest to say, and her
+companion seemed to be one of these strong, silent men you read about.
+Only a slight snore from Jules broke the silence.
+
+At the third floor Sally leaned forward and prodded Jules in the lower
+ribs. All through her stay at Roville, she had found in dealing with the
+native population that actions spoke louder than words. If she wanted
+anything in a restaurant or at a shop, she pointed; and, when she wished
+the lift to stop, she prodded the man in charge. It was a system worth a
+dozen French conversation books.
+
+Jules brought the machine to a halt: and it was at this point that he
+should have done the one thing connected with his professional
+activities which he did really well--the opening, to wit, of the iron
+cage. There are ways of doing this. Jules' was the right way. He was
+accustomed to do it with a flourish, and generally remarked "V'la!" in a
+modest but self-congratulatory voice as though he would have liked to
+see another man who could have put through a job like that. Jules'
+opinion was that he might not be much to look at, but that he could open
+a lift door.
+
+To-night, however, it seemed as if even this not very exacting feat was
+beyond his powers. Instead of inserting his key in the lock, he stood
+staring in an attitude of frozen horror. He was a man who took most
+things in life pretty seriously, and whatever was the little difficulty
+just now seemed to have broken him all up.
+
+"There appears," said Sally, turning to her companion, "to be a hitch.
+Would you mind asking what's the matter? I don't know any French myself
+except 'oo la la!'"
+
+The young man, thus appealed to, nerved himself to the task.  He eyed
+the melancholy Jules doubtfully, and coughed in a strangled sort of way.
+
+"Oh, esker... esker vous..."
+
+"Don't weaken," said Sally.  "I think you've got him going."
+
+"Esker vous...   Pourquoi vous ne... I mean ne vous... that is to say,
+quel est le raison..."
+
+He broke off here, because at this point Jules began to explain.  He
+explained very rapidly and at considerable length. The fact that neither
+of his hearers understood a word of what he was saying appeared not to
+have impressed itself upon him. Or, if he gave a thought to it, he
+dismissed the objection as trifling. He wanted to explain, and he
+explained. Words rushed from him like water from a geyser. Sounds which
+you felt you would have been able to put a meaning to if he had detached
+them from the main body and repeated them slowly, went swirling down the
+stream and were lost for ever.
+
+"Stop him!" said Sally firmly.
+
+The red-haired young man looked as a native of Johnstown might have
+looked on being requested to stop that city's celebrated flood.
+
+"Stop him?"
+
+"Yes.  Blow a whistle or something."
+
+Out of the depths of the young man's memory there swam to the surface a
+single word--a word which he must have heard somewhere or read
+somewhere: a legacy, perhaps, from long-vanished school-days.
+
+"Zut!" he barked, and instantaneously Jules turned himself off at the
+main. There was a moment of dazed silence, such as might occur in a
+boiler-factory if the works suddenly shut down.
+
+"Quick! Now you've got him!" cried Sally.  "Ask him what he's talking
+about--if he knows, which I doubt--and tell him to speak slowly. Then
+we shall get somewhere."
+
+The young man nodded intelligently.  The advice was good.
+
+"Lentement," he said.  "Parlez lentement.  Pas si--you know what I
+mean--pas si dashed vite!"
+
+"Ah-a-ah!" cried Jules, catching the idea on the fly.  "Lentement.  Ah,
+oui, lentement."
+
+There followed a lengthy conversation which, while conveying nothing to
+Sally, seemed intelligible to the red-haired linguist.
+
+"The silly ass," he was able to announce some few minutes later, "has
+made a bloomer. Apparently he was half asleep when we came in, and he
+shoved us into the lift and slammed the door, forgetting that he had
+left the keys on the desk."
+
+"I see," said Sally.  "So we're shut in?"
+
+"I'm afraid so.  I wish to goodness," said the young man, "I knew French
+well. I'd curse him with some vim and not a little animation, the chump!
+I wonder what 'blighter' is in French," he said, meditating.
+
+"It's the merest suggestion," said Sally, "but oughtn't we to do
+something?"
+
+"What could we do?"
+
+"Well, for one thing, we might all utter a loud yell.  It would scare
+most of the people in the hotel to death, but there might be a survivor
+or two who would come and investigate and let us out."
+
+"What a ripping idea!" said the young man, impressed.
+
+"I'm glad you like it.  Now tell him the main out-line, or he'll think
+we've gone mad."
+
+The young man searched for words, and eventually found some which
+expressed his meaning lamely but well enough to cause Jules to nod in a
+depressed sort of way.
+
+"Fine!" said Sally.  "Now, all together at the word 'three.'
+One--two--Oh, poor darling!" she broke off. "Look at him!"
+
+In the far corner of the lift, the emotional Jules was sobbing silently
+into the bunch of cotton-waste which served him in the office of a
+pocket-handkerchief. His broken-hearted gulps echoed hollowly down the
+shaft.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+In these days of cheap books of instruction on every subject under the
+sun, we most of us know how to behave in the majority of life's little
+crises. We have only ourselves to blame if we are ignorant of what to do
+before the doctor comes, of how to make a dainty winter coat for baby
+out of father's last year's under-vest and of the best method of coping
+with the cold mutton. But nobody yet has come forward with practical
+advice as to the correct method of behaviour to be adopted when a
+lift-attendant starts crying. And Sally and her companion, as a
+consequence, for a few moments merely stared at each other helplessly.
+
+"Poor darling!" said Sally, finding speech.  "Ask him what's the
+matter."
+
+The young man looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"You know," he said, "I don't enjoy chatting with this blighter.  I mean
+to say, it's a bit of an effort. I don't know why it is, but talking
+French always makes me feel as if my nose were coming off. Couldn't we
+just leave him to have his cry out by himself?"
+
+"The idea!" said Sally.  "Have you no heart? Are you one of those fiends
+in human shape?"
+
+He turned reluctantly to Jules, and paused to overhaul his vocabulary.
+
+"You ought to be thankful for this chance," said Sally.  "It's the only
+real way of learning French, and you're getting a lesson for nothing.
+What did he say then?"
+
+"Something about losing something, it seemed to me.  I thought I caught
+the word perdu."
+
+"But that means a partridge, doesn't it? I'm sure I've seen it on the
+menus."
+
+"Would he talk about partridges at a time like this?"
+
+"He might.  The French are extraordinary people."
+
+"Well, I'll have another go at him.  But he's a difficult chap to chat
+with. If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of goes off like
+a rocket." He addressed another question to the sufferer, and listened
+attentively to the voluble reply.
+
+"Oh!" he said with sudden enlightenment.  "Your job?" He turned to
+Sally. "I got it that time," he said. "The trouble is, he says, that if
+we yell and rouse the house, we'll get out all right, but he will lose
+his job, because this is the second time this sort of thing has
+happened, and they warned him last time that once more would mean the
+push."
+
+"Then we mustn't dream of yelling," said Sally, decidedly.  "It means a
+pretty long wait, you know. As far as I can gather, there's just a
+chance of somebody else coming in later, in which case he could let us
+out. But it's doubtful. He rather thinks that everybody has gone to
+roost."
+
+"Well, we must try it.  I wouldn't think of losing the poor man his job.
+Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then we'll just
+sit and amuse ourselves till something happens. We've lots to talk
+about. We can tell each other the story of our lives."
+
+Jules, cheered by his victims' kindly forbearance, lowered the car to
+the ground floor, where, after a glance of infinite longing at the keys
+on the distant desk, the sort of glance which Moses must have cast at
+the Promised Land from the summit of Mount Pisgah, he sagged down in a
+heap and resumed his slumbers. Sally settled herself as comfortably as
+possible in her corner.
+
+"You'd better smoke," she said.  "It will be something to do."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And now," said Sally, "tell me why Scrymgeour fired you."
+
+Little by little, under the stimulating influence of this nocturnal
+adventure, the red-haired young man had lost that shy confusion which
+had rendered him so ill at ease when he had encountered Sally in the
+hall of the hotel; but at this question embarrassment gripped him once
+more. Another of those comprehensive blushes of his raced over his face,
+and he stammered.
+
+"I say, I'm glad... I'm fearfully sorry about that, you know!"
+
+"About Scrymgeour?"
+
+"You know what I mean.  I mean, about making such a most ghastly ass of
+myself this morning. I... I never dreamed you understood English."
+
+"Why, I didn't object.  I thought you were very nice and complimentary.
+Of course, I don't know how many girls you've seen in your life, but..."
+
+"No, I say, don't! It makes me feel such a chump."
+
+"And I'm sorry about my mouth.  It is wide.  But I know you're a
+fair-minded man and realize that it isn't my fault."
+
+"Don't rub it in," pleaded the young man.  "As a matter of fact, if you
+want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect. I think," he
+proceeded, a little feverishly, "that you are the most indescribable
+topper that ever..."
+
+"You were going to tell me about Scrymgeour," said Sally.
+
+The young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
+sleep-walking. Eloquence had carried him away.
+
+"Scrymgeour?" he said.  "Oh, that would bore you."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally reprovingly.  "Can't you realize that we're
+practically castaways on a desert island? There's nothing to do till
+to-morrow but talk about ourselves. I want to hear all about you, and
+then I'll tell you all about myself. If you feel diffident about
+starting the revelations, I'll begin. Better start with names. Mine is
+Sally Nicholas. What's yours?"
+
+"Mine? Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean."
+
+"I thought you would.  I put it as clearly as I could.  Well, what is
+it?"
+
+"Kemp."
+
+"And the first name?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said the young man, "I've always rather
+hushed up my first name, because when I was christened they worked a
+low-down trick on me!"
+
+"You can't shock me," said Sally, encouragingly.  "My father's name was
+Ezekiel, and I've a brother who was christened Fillmore."
+
+Mr. Kemp brightened.  "Well, mine isn't as bad as that... No, I don't
+mean that," he broke off apologetically. "Both awfully jolly names, of
+course..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+"Well, they called me Lancelot.  And, of course, the thing is that I
+don't look like a Lancelot and never shall. My pals," he added in a more
+cheerful strain, "call me Ginger."
+
+"I don't blame them," said Sally.
+
+"Perhaps you wouldn't mind thinking of me as Ginger?'' suggested the
+young man diffidently.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's awfully good of you."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+Jules stirred in his sleep and grunted.  No other sound came to disturb
+the stillness of the night.
+
+"You were going to tell me about yourself?" said Mr. Lancelot (Ginger)
+Kemp.
+
+"I'm going to tell you all about myself," said Sally, "not because I
+think it will interest you..."
+
+"Oh, it will!"
+
+"Not, I say, because I think it will interest you..."
+
+"It will, really."
+
+Sally looked at him coldly.
+
+"Is this a duet?" she inquired, "or have I the floor?"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry."
+
+"Not, I repeat for the third time, because I think It will interest you,
+but because if I do you won't have any excuse for not telling me your
+life-history, and you wouldn't believe how inquisitive I am. Well, in
+the first place, I live in America. I'm over here on a holiday. And it's
+the first real holiday I've had in three years--since I left home, in
+fact." Sally paused. "I ran away from home," she said.
+
+"Good egg!" said Ginger Kemp.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"I mean, quite right.  I bet you were quite right."
+
+"When I say home," Sally went on, "it was only a sort of imitation home,
+you know. One of those just-as-good homes which are never as
+satisfactory as the real kind. My father and mother both died a good
+many years ago. My brother and I were dumped down on the reluctant
+doorstep of an uncle."
+
+"Uncles," said Ginger Kemp, feelingly, "are the devil.  I've got an...
+but I'm interrupting you."
+
+"My uncle was our trustee.  He had control of all my brother's money and
+mine till I was twenty-one. My brother was to get his when he was
+twenty-five. My poor father trusted him blindly, and what do you think
+happened?"
+
+"Good Lord! The blighter embezzled the lot?"
+
+"No, not a cent.  Wasn't it extraordinary! Have you ever heard of a
+blindly trusted uncle who was perfectly honest? Well, mine was. But the
+trouble was that, while an excellent man to have looking after one's
+money, he wasn't a very lovable character. He was very hard. Hard! He
+was as hard as--well, nearly as hard as this seat. He hated poor
+Fill..."
+
+"Phil?"
+
+"I broke it to you just now that my brother's name was Fillmore."
+
+"Oh, your brother.  Oh, ah, yes."
+
+"He was always picking on poor Fill.  And I'm bound to say that Fill
+rather laid himself out as what you might call a pickee. He was always
+getting into trouble. One day, about three years ago, he was expelled
+from Harvard, and my uncle vowed he would have nothing more to do with
+him. So I said, if Fill left, I would leave. And, as this seemed to be
+my uncle's idea of a large evening, no objection was raised, and Fill
+and I departed. We went to New York, and there we've been ever since.
+About six months' ago Fill passed the twenty-five mark and collected his
+money, and last month I marched past the given point and got mine. So it
+all ends happily, you see. Now tell me about yourself."
+
+"But, I say, you know, dash it, you've skipped a lot.  I mean to say,
+you must have had an awful time in New York, didn't you? How on earth
+did you get along?"
+
+"Oh, we found work.  My brother tried one or two things, and finally
+became an assistant stage-manager with some theatre people. The only
+thing I could do, having been raised in enervating luxury, was ballroom
+dancing, so I ball-room danced. I got a job at a place in Broadway
+called 'The Flower Garden' as what is humorously called an
+'instructress,' as if anybody could 'instruct' the men who came there.
+One was lucky if one saved one's life and wasn't quashed to death."
+
+"How perfectly foul!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  It was rather fun for a while.  Still," said Sally,
+meditatively, "I'm not saying I could have held out much longer: I was
+beginning to give. I suppose I've been trampled underfoot by more fat
+men than any other girl of my age in America. I don't know why it was,
+but every man who came in who was a bit overweight seemed to make for me
+by instinct. That's why I like to sit on the sands here and watch these
+Frenchmen bathing. It's just heavenly to lie back and watch a two
+hundred and fifty pound man, coming along and feel that he isn't going
+to dance with me."
+
+"But, I say! How absolutely rotten it must have been for you!"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing.  It's going to make me a very
+domesticated wife one of these days. You won't find me gadding about in
+gilded jazz-palaces! For me, a little place in the country somewhere,
+with my knitting and an Elsie book, and bed at half-past nine! And now
+tell me the story of your life. And make it long because I'm perfectly
+certain there's going to be no relief-expedition. I'm sure the last
+dweller under this roof came in years ago. We shall be here till
+morning."
+
+"I really think we had better shout, you know."
+
+"And lose Jules his job? Never!"
+
+"Well, of course, I'm sorry for poor old Jules' troubles, but I hate to
+think of you having to..."
+
+"Now get on with the story," said Sally.
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+
+Ginger Kemp exhibited some of the symptoms of a young bridegroom called
+upon at a wedding-breakfast to respond to the toast. He moved his feet
+restlessly and twisted his fingers.
+
+"I hate talking about myself, you know," he said.
+
+"So I supposed," said Sally.  "That's why I gave you my autobiography
+first, to give you no chance of backing out. Don't be such a shrinking
+violet. We're all shipwrecked mariners here. I am intensely interested
+in your narrative. And, even if I wasn't, I'd much rather listen to it
+than to Jules' snoring."
+
+"He is snoring a bit, what? Does it annoy you? Shall I stir him?"
+
+"You seem to have an extraordinary brutal streak in your nature," said
+Sally. "You appear to think of nothing else but schemes for harassing
+poor Jules. Leave him alone for a second, and start telling me about
+yourself."
+
+"Where shall I start?"
+
+"Well, not with your childhood, I think.  We'll skip that."
+
+"Well..." Ginger Kemp knitted his brow, searching for a dramatic
+opening. "Well, I'm more or less what you might call an orphan, like
+you. I mean to say, both my people are dead and all that sort of thing."
+
+"Thanks for explaining.  That has made it quite clear."
+
+"I can't remember my mother.  My father died when I was in my last year
+at Cambridge. I'd been having a most awfully good time at the 'varsity,'"
+said Ginger, warming to his theme. "Not thick, you know, but good. I'd
+got my rugger and boxing blues and I'd just been picked for scrum-half
+for England against the North in the first trial match, and between
+ourselves it really did look as if I was more or less of a snip for my
+international."
+
+Sally gazed at him wide eyed.
+
+"Is that good or bad?" she asked.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Are you reciting a catalogue of your crimes, or do you expect me to get
+up and cheer? What is a rugger blue, to start with?"
+
+"Well, it's... it's a rugger blue, you know."
+
+"Oh, I see," said Sally.  "You mean a rugger blue."
+
+"I mean to say, I played rugger--footer--that's to say, football--Rugby
+football--for Cambridge, against Oxford. I was scrum-half."
+
+"And what is a scrum-half?" asked Sally, patiently.  "Yes, I know you're
+going to say it's a scrum-half, but can't you make it easier?"
+
+"The scrum-half," said Ginger, "is the half who works the scrum.  He
+slings the pill out to the fly-half, who starts the three-quarters
+going. I don't know if you understand?"
+
+"I don't."
+
+"It's dashed hard to explain," said Ginger Kemp, unhappily.  "I mean, I
+don't think I've ever met anyone before who didn't know what a
+scrum-half was."
+
+"Well, I can see that it has something to do with football, so we'll
+leave it at that. I suppose it's something like our quarter-back. And
+what's an international?"
+
+"It's called getting your international when you play for England, you
+know. England plays Wales, France, Ireland, and Scotland. If it hadn't
+been for the smash, I think I should have played for England against
+Wales."
+
+"I see at last.  What you're trying to tell me is that you were very
+good at football."
+
+Ginger Kemp blushed warmly.
+
+"Oh, I don't say that.  England was pretty short of scrum-halves that
+year."
+
+"What a horrible thing to happen to a country! Still, you were likely to
+be picked on the All-England team when the smash came? What was the
+smash?"
+
+"Well, it turned out that the poor old pater hadn't left a penny.  I
+never understood the process exactly, but I'd always supposed that we
+were pretty well off; and then it turned out that I hadn't anything at
+all. I'm bound to say it was a bit of a jar. I had to come down from
+Cambridge and go to work in my uncle's office. Of course, I made an
+absolute hash of it."
+
+"Why, of course?"
+
+"Well, I'm not a very clever sort of chap, you see.  I somehow didn't
+seem able to grasp the workings. After about a year, my uncle, getting a
+bit fed-up, hoofed me out and got me a mastership at a school, and I
+made a hash of that. He got me one or two other jobs, and I made a hash
+of those."
+
+"You certainly do seem to be one of our most prominent young hashers!"
+gasped Sally.
+
+"I am," said Ginger, modestly.
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"And what about Scrymgeour?" Sally asked.
+
+"That was the last of the jobs," said Ginger.  "Scrymgeour is a pompous
+old ass who think's he's going to be Prime Minister some day. He's a big
+bug at the Bar and has just got into Parliament. My cousin used to devil
+for him. That's how I got mixed up with the blighter."
+
+"Your cousin used... ? I wish you would talk English."
+
+"That was my cousin who was with me on the beach this morning."
+
+"And what did you say he used to do for Mr. Scrymgeour?"
+
+"Oh, it's called devilling.  My cousin's at the Bar, too--one of our
+rising nibs, as a matter of fact..."
+
+"I thought he was a lawyer of some kind."
+
+"He's got a long way beyond it now, but when he started he used to devil
+for Scrymgeour--assist him, don't you know. His name's Carmyle, you
+know. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's rather a prominent johnny in his
+way. Bruce Carmyle, you know."
+
+"I haven't."
+
+"Well, he got me this job of secretary to Scrymgeour."
+
+"And why did Mr. Scrymgeour fire you?"
+
+Ginger Kemp's face darkened.  He frowned.  Sally, watching him, felt
+that she had been right when she had guessed that he had a temper. She
+liked him none the worse for it. Mild men did not appeal to her.
+
+"I don't know if you're fond of dogs?" said Ginger.
+
+"I used to be before this morning," said Sally.  "And I suppose I shall
+be again in time. For the moment I've had what you might call rather a
+surfeit of dogs. But aren't you straying from the point? I asked you why
+Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed you."
+
+"I'm telling you."
+
+"I'm glad of that.  I didn't know."
+
+"The old brute," said Ginger, frowning again, "has a dog.  A very jolly
+little spaniel. Great pal of mine. And Scrymgeour is the sort of fool
+who oughtn't to be allowed to own a dog. He's one of those asses who
+isn't fit to own a dog. As a matter of fact, of all the blighted,
+pompous, bullying, shrivelled-souled old devils..."
+
+"One moment," said Sally.  "I'm getting an impression that you don't
+like Mr. Scrymgeour. Am I right?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"I thought so.  Womanly intuition! Go on."
+
+"He used to insist on the poor animal doing tricks.  I hate seeing a dog
+do tricks. Dogs loathe it, you know. They're frightfully sensitive.
+Well, Scrymgeour used to make this spaniel of his do tricks--fool-things
+that no self-respecting dogs would do: and eventually poor old Billy got
+fed up and jibbed. He was too polite to bite, but he sort of shook his
+head and crawled under a chair. You'd have thought anyone would have
+let it go at that, but would old Scrymgeour? Not a bit of it! Of all the
+poisonous..."
+
+"Yes, I know.  Go on."
+
+"Well, the thing ended in the blighter hauling him out from under the
+chair and getting more and more shirty, until finally he laid into him
+with a stick. That is to say," said Ginger, coldly accurate, "he started
+laying into him with a stick." He brooded for a moment with knit brows.
+"A spaniel, mind you! Can you imagine anyone beating a spaniel? It's
+like hitting a little girl. Well, he's a fairly oldish man, you know,
+and that hampered me a bit: but I got hold of the stick and broke it
+into about eleven pieces, and by great good luck it was a stick he
+happened to value rather highly. It had a gold knob and had been
+presented to him by his constituents or something. I minced it up a
+goodish bit, and then I told him a fair amount about himself. And then--
+well, after that he shot me out, and I came here."
+
+Sally did not speak for a moment.
+
+"You were quite right," she said at last, in a sober voice that had
+nothing in it of her customary flippancy. She paused again. "And what
+are you going to do now?" she said.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You'll get something?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall get something, I suppose.  The family will be pretty
+sick, of course."
+
+"For goodness' sake! Why do you bother about the family?" Sally burst
+out. She could not reconcile this young man's flabby dependence on his
+family with the enterprise and vigour which he had shown in his dealings
+with the unspeakable Scrymgeour. Of course, he had been brought up to
+look on himself as a rich man's son and appeared to have drifted as such
+young men are wont to do; but even so... "The whole trouble with you,"
+she said, embarking on a subject on which she held strong views, "is
+that..."
+
+Her harangue was interrupted by what--at the Normandie, at one o'clock
+in the morning--practically amounted to a miracle. The front door of the
+hotel opened, and there entered a young man in evening dress. Such
+persons were sufficiently rare at the Normandie, which catered
+principally for the staid and middle-aged, and this youth's presence was
+due, if one must pause to explain it, to the fact that, in the middle of
+his stay at Roville, a disastrous evening at the Casino had so
+diminished his funds that he had been obliged to make a hurried shift
+from the Hotel Splendide to the humbler Normandie. His late appearance
+to-night was caused by the fact that he had been attending a dance at
+the Splendide, principally in the hope of finding there some
+kind-hearted friend of his prosperity from whom he might borrow.
+
+A rapid-fire dialogue having taken place between Jules and the newcomer,
+the keys were handed through the cage, the door opened and the lift was
+set once more in motion. And a few minutes later, Sally, suddenly aware
+of an overpowering sleepiness, had switched off her light and jumped
+into bed. Her last waking thought was a regret that she had not been
+able to speak at length to Mr. Ginger Kemp on the subject of enterprise,
+and resolve that the address should be delivered at the earliest
+opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+THE DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+By six o'clock on the following evening, however.   Sally had been
+forced to the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through life
+as best he could without the assistance of her contemplated remarks: for
+she had seen nothing of him all day and in another hour she would have
+left Roville on the seven-fifteen express which was to take her to
+Paris, en route for Cherbourg and the liner whereon she had booked her
+passage for New York.
+
+It was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,
+having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of an
+amiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale. She
+disliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted him. Like
+so many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a great degree
+the quality of interesting herself in--or, as her brother Fillmore
+preferred to put it, messing about with--the private affairs of others.
+Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom it was worth while to give a
+friendly shove on the right path; and it was with much gratification,
+therefore, that, having entered the Casino, she perceived a flaming head
+shining through the crowd which had gathered at one of the
+roulette-tables.
+
+There are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer.  The one on the Promenade goes
+in mostly for sea-air and a mild game called boule. It is the big Casino
+Municipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway station which is
+the haunt of the earnest gambler who means business; and it was plain to
+Sally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not only meant business but
+was getting results. Ginger was going extremely strong. He was
+entrenched behind an opulent-looking mound of square counters: and, even
+as Sally looked, a wooden-faced croupier shoved a further instalment
+across the table to him at the end of his long rake.
+
+"Epatant!" murmured a wistful man at Sally's side, removing an elbow
+from her ribs in order the better to gesticulate Sally, though no French
+scholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified. The entire crowd
+seemed to be startled and gratified. There is undoubtedly a certain
+altruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continental
+roulette-table. They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeing
+somebody else win.
+
+The croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheel
+a twist with his right, and silence fell again. Sally, who had shifted
+to a spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was now able
+to see Ginger's face, and as she saw it she gave an involuntary laugh.
+He looked exactly like a dog at a rat-hole. His hair seemed to bristle
+with excitement. One could almost fancy that his ears were pricked up.
+
+In the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of the
+wheel, Sally's laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness. It had a
+marked effect on all those within hearing. There is something almost of
+religious ecstasy in the deportment of the spectators at a table where
+anyone is having a run of luck at roulette, and if she had guffawed in a
+cathedral she could not have caused a more pained consternation. The
+earnest worshippers gazed at her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turning
+with a start, saw her and jumped up. As he did so, the ball fell with a
+rattling click into a red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased to
+revolve and it was seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrong
+colour, a shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that which
+convulses the penitents' bench at a negro revival meeting. More glances
+of reproach were cast at Sally. It was generally felt that her
+injudicious behaviour had changed Ginger's luck.
+
+The only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself.
+He gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his way
+to where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of the
+crowd as a pariah. There was universal regret that he had decided to
+call it a day. It was to the spectators as though a star had suddenly
+walked off the stage in the middle of his big scene; and not even a loud
+and violent quarrel which sprang up at this moment between two excitable
+gamblers over a disputed five-franc counter could wholly console them.
+
+"I say," said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd, "this
+is topping, meeting you like this. I've been looking for you
+everywhere."
+
+"It's funny you didn't find me, then, for that's where I've been.  I was
+looking for you."
+
+"No, really?" Ginger seemed pleased.  He led the way to the quiet
+ante-room outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner. It
+was pleasant here, with nobody near except the gorgeously uniformed
+attendant over by the door. "That was awfully good of you."
+
+"I felt I must have a talk with you before my train went."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"Your train? What do you mean?"
+
+"The puff-puff," explained Sally.  "I'm leaving to-night, you know."
+
+"Leaving?" Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of the
+congregation of which Sally had just ceased to be a member. "You don't
+mean leaving? You're not going away from Roville?"
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why? Where are you going?"
+
+"Back to America.  My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow."
+
+"Oh, my aunt!"
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally, touched by his concern.  She was a warm-hearted
+girl and liked being appreciated. "But..."
+
+"I say..." Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him at
+the uniformed official, who was regarding their tête-à-tête with the
+indulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. "I
+say, look here, will you marry me?"
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement.  Ginger, she
+had realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but
+she had not expected him to be as surprising as this.
+
+"Marry you!"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+"Well, yes, I suppose I do.  You allude to the holy state.  Yes, I know
+what you mean."
+
+"Then how about it?"
+
+Sally began to regain her composure.  Her sense of humour was tickled.
+She looked at Ginger gravely. He did not meet her eye, but continued to
+drink in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by the
+romance of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under his
+breath. The official could not hear what they were saying, and would not
+have been able to understand it even if he could have heard; but he was
+an expert in the language of the eyes.
+
+"But isn't this--don't think I am trying to make difficulties--isn't
+this a little sudden?"
+
+"It's got to be sudden," said Ginger Kemp, complainingly.  "I thought
+you were going to be here for weeks."
+
+"But, my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practically
+strangers?" She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the uniformed
+official to heave a tender sigh. "I see what has happened," she said.
+"You're mistaking me for some other girl, some girl you know really
+well, and were properly introduced to. Take a good look at me, and
+you'll see."
+
+"If I take a good look at you," said Ginger, feverishly, "I'm dashed if
+I'll answer for the consequences."
+
+"And this is the man I was going to lecture on 'Enterprise.'"
+
+"You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, dash it!" said Ginger,
+his gaze still riveted on the official by the door "I dare say it is
+sudden. I can't help that. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,
+and there you are!"
+
+"But..."
+
+"Now, look here, I know I'm not much of a chap and all that, but...
+well, I've just won the deuce of a lot of money in there..."
+
+"Would you buy me with your gold?"
+
+"I mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I've
+made an infernal hash of everything I've tried up till now, but there
+must be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I'd have a
+goodish stab at it. I mean to say, with you to buck me up and so forth,
+don't you know. Well, I mean..."
+
+"Has it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?"
+
+"Oh, golly! Are you?"
+
+For the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in his
+eyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out of
+her. Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.
+
+"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am," she said soberly.
+
+Ginger Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.
+
+"Oh, well, that's torn it!" he said at last.
+
+Sally was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse.  There was pity in
+it, but amusement too. The emotion, though she did not recognize it, was
+maternal. Mothers, listening to their children pleading with engaging
+absurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow, feel that
+same wavering between tears and laughter. Sally wanted to pick Ginger up
+and kiss him. The one thing she could not do was to look on him, sorry
+as she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.
+
+"You don't really mean it, you know."
+
+"Don't I!" said Ginger, hollowly.  "Oh, don't I!"
+
+"You can't! There isn't such a thing in real life as love at first
+sight. Love's a thing that comes when you know a person well and..." She
+paused. It had just occurred to her that she was hardly the girl to
+lecture in this strain. Her love for Gerald Foster had been sufficiently
+sudden, even instantaneous. What did she know of Gerald except that she
+loved him? They had become engaged within two weeks of their first
+meeting. She found this recollection damping to her eloquence, and ended
+by saying tamely:
+
+"It's ridiculous."
+
+Ginger had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.
+
+"I couldn't have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway," he
+said, sombrely. "I'm not much of a chap."
+
+It was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sally
+had been longing to find. She welcomed the chance of continuing the
+conversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.
+
+"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, seizing
+the opportunity offered by this display of humility. "I've been looking
+for you all day to go on with what I was starting to say in the lift
+last night when we were interrupted. Do you mind if I talk to you like
+an aunt--or a sister, suppose we say? Really, the best plan would be for
+you to adopt me as an honorary sister. What do you think?"
+
+Ginger did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.
+
+"Because I really do take a tremendous interest in you."
+
+Ginger brightened.  "That's awfully good of you."
+
+"I'm going to speak words of wisdom.  Ginger, why don't you brace up?"
+
+"Brace up?"
+
+"Yes, stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square your
+elbows, and really amount to something. Why do you simply flop about and
+do nothing and leave everything to what you call 'the family'? Why do
+you have to be helped all the time? Why don't you help yourself? Why do
+you have to have jobs found for you? Why don't you rush out and get one?
+Why do you have to worry about what, 'the family' thinks of you? Why
+don't you make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck,
+suddenly finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens,
+everybody else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke at
+one time or another. It's part of the fun. You'll never get anywhere by
+letting yourself be picked up by the family like... like a floppy
+Newfoundland puppy and dumped down in any old place that happens to suit
+them. A job's a thing you've got to choose for yourself and get for
+yourself. Think what you can do--there must be something--and then go at
+it with a snort and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take a
+joke. You've managed to collect some money. It will give you time to
+look round. And, when you've had a look round, do something! Try to
+realize you're alive, and try to imagine the family isn't!"
+
+Sally stopped and drew a deep breath.  Ginger Kemp did not reply for a
+moment. He seemed greatly impressed.
+
+"When you talk quick," he said at length, in a serious meditative voice,
+"your nose sort of goes all squiggly. Ripping, it looks!"
+
+Sally uttered an indignant cry.
+
+"Do you mean to say you haven't been listening to a word I've been
+saying," she demanded.
+
+"Oh, rather! Oh, by Jove, yes."
+
+"Well, what did I say?"
+
+"You... er... And your eyes sort of shine, too."
+
+"Never mind my eyes.  What did I say?"
+
+"You told me," said Ginger, on reflection, "to get a job."
+
+"Well, yes.  I put it much better than that, but that's what it amounted
+to, I suppose. All right, then. I'm glad you..."
+
+Ginger was eyeing her with mournful devotion.  "I say," he interrupted,
+"I wish you'd let me write to you. Letters, I mean, and all that. I have
+an idea it would kind of buck me up."
+
+"You won't have time for writing letters."
+
+"I'll have time to write them to you.  You haven't an address or
+anything of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, so
+that I'd know where to write to."
+
+"I can give you an address which will always find me." She told him the
+number and street of Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house, and he wrote them
+down reverently on his shirt-cuff. "Yes, on second thoughts, do write,"
+she said. "Of course, I shall want to know how you've got on. I... oh,
+my goodness! That clock's not right?"
+
+"Just about.  What time does your train go?"
+
+"Go! It's gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds." She made a
+rush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed official who
+had not been expecting this sudden activity. "Good-bye, Ginger. Write to
+me, and remember what I said."
+
+Ginger, alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question of
+physical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and they
+emerged together and started running down the square.
+
+"Stick it!" said Ginger, encouragingly.  He was running easily and well,
+as becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his international
+at scrum-half.
+
+Sally saved her breath.  The train was beginning to move slowly out of
+the station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform. Ginger dived
+for the nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in his
+arms, and flung her in. She landed squarely on the toes of a man who
+occupied the corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the window.
+Ginger, faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train as it
+gathered speed.
+
+"Ginger! My poor porter! Tip him.  I forgot."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"And don't forget what I've been saying."
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+"Look after yourself and 'Death to the Family!'"
+
+"Right ho!"
+
+The train passed smoothly out of the station.  Sally cast one last look
+back at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving a
+handkerchief. Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of the
+carriage.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said, breathlessly.  "I hope I didn't hurt you."
+
+She found herself facing Ginger's cousin, the dark man of yesterday's
+episode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed by
+life's little surprises, but at the present moment he could not help
+feeling slightly dazed. He recognized Sally now as the French girl who
+had attracted his cousin Lancelot's notice on the beach. At least he had
+assumed that she was French, and it was startling to be addressed by her
+now in fluent English. How had she suddenly acquired this gift of
+tongues? And how on earth had she had time since yesterday, when he had
+been a total stranger to her, to become sufficiently intimate with
+Cousin Lancelot to be sprinting with him down station platforms and
+addressing him out of railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmyle
+was aware that most members of that sub-species of humanity, his
+cousin's personal friends, called him by that familiar--and, so Carmyle
+held, vulgar--nickname: but how had this girl got hold of it?
+
+If Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly have
+looked disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid sense
+of the proprieties a nasty jar. But as, panting and flushed from her
+run, she was prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived to
+smile.
+
+"Not at all," he said in answer to her question, though it was far from
+the truth. His left big toe was aching confoundedly. Even a girl with a
+foot as small as Sally's can make her presence felt on a man's toe if
+the scrum-half who is handling her aims well and uses plenty of vigour.
+
+"If you don't mind," said Sally, sitting down, "I think I'll breathe a
+little."
+
+She breathed.  The train sped on.
+
+"Quite a close thing," said Bruce Carmyle, affably.  The pain in his toe
+was diminishing. "You nearly missed it."
+
+"Yes.  It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me.  He throws very straight,
+doesn't he."
+
+"Tell me," said Carmyle, "how do you come to know my Cousin? On the
+beach yesterday morning..."
+
+"Oh, we didn't know each other then.  But we were staying at the same
+hotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator together. That
+was when we really got acquainted."
+
+A waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English that
+dinner was served in the restaurant car. "Would you care for dinner?"
+
+"I'm starving," said Sally.
+
+She reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, for
+being so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance. This man was
+perfectly pleasant in spite of his grim exterior. She had decided by the
+time they had seated themselves at the table she liked him.
+
+At the table, however, Mr. Carmyle's manner changed for the worse.  He
+lost his amiability. He was evidently a man who took his meals seriously
+and believed in treating waiters with severity. He shuddered austerely
+at a stain on the table-cloth, and then concentrated himself frowningly
+on the bill of fare. Sally, meanwhile, was establishing cosy relations
+with the much too friendly waiter, a cheerful old man who from the start
+seemed to have made up his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter.
+The waiter talked no English and Sally no French, but they were getting
+along capitally, when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving aside
+the servitor's light-hearted advice--at the Hotel Splendide the waiters
+never bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side of
+your face--gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of the
+travelling Briton. The waiter remarked, "Boum!" in a pleased sort of
+way, and vanished.
+
+"Nice old man!" said Sally.
+
+"Infernally familiar!" said Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Sally perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did not
+see eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived from
+any discussion centring about him. She changed the subject. She was not
+liking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few minutes ago, but
+it was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she tried to like him as
+much as she could.
+
+"By the way," she said, "my name is Nicholas.  I always think it's a
+good thing to start with names, don't you?"
+
+"Mine..."
+
+"Oh, I know yours.  Ginger--Mr. Kemp told me."
+
+Mr. Carmyle, who since the waiter's departure, had been thawing,
+stiffened again at the mention of Ginger.
+
+"Indeed?" he said, coldly.  "Apparently you got intimate."
+
+Sally did not like his tone.  He seemed to be criticizing her, and she
+resented criticism from a stranger. Her eyes opened wide and she looked
+dangerously across the table.
+
+"Why 'apparently'? I told you that we had got intimate, and I explained
+how. You can't stay shut up in an elevator half the night with anybody
+without getting to know him. I found Mr. Kemp very pleasant."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"And very interesting."
+
+Mr. Carmyle raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Would you call him interesting?"
+
+"I did call him interesting." Sally was beginning to feel the
+exhilaration of battle. Men usually made themselves extremely agreeable
+to her, and she reacted belligerently under the stiff unfriendliness
+which had come over her companion in the last few minutes.
+
+"He told me all about himself."
+
+"And you found that interesting?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well..." A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle's dark
+face. "My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt--he used to play
+football well, and I understand that he is a capable amateur
+pugilist--but I should not have supposed him entertaining. We find him a
+little dull."
+
+"I thought it was only royalty that called themselves 'we.'"
+
+"I meant myself--and the rest of the family."
+
+The mention of the family was too much for Sally.  She had to stop
+talking in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.
+
+"Mr. Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour," she went on at length.
+
+Bruce Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French bread
+which the waiter had placed on the table.
+
+"Indeed?" he said.  "He has an engaging lack of reticence."
+
+The waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.
+
+"V'la!" he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who has
+successfully performed a difficult conjuring trick. He smiled at Sally
+expectantly, as though confident of applause from this section of his
+audience at least. But Sally's face was set and rigid. She had been
+snubbed, and the sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.
+
+"I think Mr. Kemp had hard luck," she said.
+
+"If you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter."
+
+Mr. Carmyle's attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but she
+was a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not to be
+discussed with strangers, however prepossessing.
+
+"He was quite in the right.  Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog..."
+
+"I've heard the details."
+
+"Oh, I didn't know that.  Well, don't you agree with me, then?"
+
+"I do not.  A man who would throw away an excellent position simply
+because..."
+
+"Oh, well, if that's your view, I suppose it is useless to talk about
+it."
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Still, there's no harm in asking what you propose to do about
+Gin--about Mr. Kemp."
+
+Mr. Carmyle became more glacial.
+
+"I'm afraid I cannot discuss..."
+
+Sally's quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got the
+better of her.
+
+"Oh, for goodness' sake," she snapped, "do try to be human, and don't
+always be snubbing people. You remind me of one of those portraits of
+men in the eighteenth century, with wooden faces, who look out of heavy
+gold frames at you with fishy eyes as if you were a regrettable
+incident."
+
+"Rosbif," said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly beside
+them as if he had popped up out of a trap.
+
+Bruce Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely.  Sally who was in the
+mood when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, but
+was full of battle at the moment, sat in silence.
+
+"I am sorry," said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, "if my eyes are fishy.  The
+fact has not been called to my attention before."
+
+"I suppose you never had any sisters," said Sally.  "They would have
+told you."
+
+Mr. Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till the
+waiter had brought the coffee.
+
+"I think," said Sally, getting up, "I'll be going now.  I don't seem to
+want any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say something rude. I thought
+I might be able to put in a good word for Mr. Kemp and save him from
+being massacred, but apparently it's no use. Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, and
+thank you for giving me dinner."
+
+She made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle's indignant,
+yet fascinated, gaze. Strange emotions were stirring in Mr. Carmyle's
+bosom.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD
+
+
+
+Some few days later, owing to the fact that the latter, being
+preoccupied, did not see him first, Bruce Carmyle met his cousin
+Lancelot in Piccadilly. They had returned by different routes from
+Roville, and Ginger would have preferred the separation to continue. He
+was hurrying on with a nod, when Carmyle stopped him.
+
+"Just the man I wanted to see," he observed.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" said Ginger, without joy.
+
+"I was thinking of calling at your club."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes.  Cigarette?"
+
+Ginger peered at the proffered case with the vague suspicion of the man
+who has allowed himself to be lured on to the platform and is accepting
+a card from the conjurer. He felt bewildered. In all the years of their
+acquaintance he could not recall another such exhibition of geniality on
+his cousin's part. He was surprised, indeed, at Mr. Carmyle's speaking
+to him at all, for the affaire Scrymgeour remained an un-healed wound,
+and the Family, Ginger knew, were even now in session upon it.
+
+"Been back in London long?"
+
+"Day or two."
+
+"I heard quite by accident that you had returned and that you were
+staying at the club. By the way, thank you for introducing me to Miss
+Nicholas."
+
+Ginger started violently.
+
+"What!"
+
+"I was in that compartment, you know, at Roville Station.  You threw her
+right on top of me. We agreed to consider that an introduction. An
+attractive girl."
+
+Bruce Carmyle had not entirely made up his mind regarding Sally, but on
+one point he was clear, that she should not, if he could help it, pass
+out of his life. Her abrupt departure had left him with that baffled and
+dissatisfied feeling which, though it has little in common with love at
+first sight, frequently produces the same effects. She had had, he
+could not disguise it from himself, the better of their late encounter
+and he was conscious of a desire to meet her again and show her that
+there was more in him than she apparently supposed. Bruce Carmyle, in a
+word, was piqued: and, though he could not quite decide whether he liked
+or disliked Sally, he was very sure that a future without her would have
+an element of flatness.
+
+"A very attractive girl.  We had a very pleasant talk."
+
+"I bet you did," said Ginger enviously.
+
+"By the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?"
+
+"Why?" said Ginger suspiciously.  His attitude towards Sally's address
+resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique work
+of art. He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.
+
+"Well, I--er--I promised to send her some books she was anxious to
+read..."
+
+"I shouldn't think she gets much time for reading."
+
+"Books which are not published in America."
+
+"Oh, pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to
+be, I mean."
+
+"Well, these particular books are not," said Mr. Carmyle shortly.  He
+was finding Ginger's reserve a little trying, and wished that he had
+been more inventive.
+
+"Give them to me and I'll send them to her," suggested Ginger.
+
+"Good Lord, man!" snapped Mr. Carmyle.  "I'm capable of sending a few
+books to America. Where does she live?"
+
+Ginger revealed the sacred number of the holy street which had the luck
+to be Sally's headquarters. He did it because with a persistent devil
+like his cousin there seemed no way of getting out of it: but he did it
+grudgingly.
+
+"Thanks." Bruce Carmyle wrote the information down with a gold pencil in
+a dapper little morocco-bound note-book. He was the sort of man who
+always has a pencil, and the backs of old envelopes never enter into his
+life.
+
+There was a pause.  Bruce Carmyle coughed.
+
+"I saw Uncle Donald this morning," he said.
+
+His manner had lost its geniality.  There was no need for it now, and he
+was a man who objected to waste. He spoke coldly, and in his voice there
+was a familiar sub-tingle of reproof.
+
+"Yes?" said Ginger moodily.  This was the uncle in whose office he had
+made his debut as a hasher: a worthy man, highly respected in the
+National Liberal Club, but never a favourite of Ginger's. There were
+other minor uncles and a few subsidiary aunts who went to make up the
+Family, but Uncle Donald was unquestionably the managing director of
+that body and it was Ginger's considered opinion that in this capacity
+he approximated to a human blister.
+
+"He wants you to dine with him to-night at Bleke's."
+
+Ginger's depression deepened.  A dinner with Uncle Donald would hardly
+have been a cheerful function, even in the surroundings of a banquet in
+the Arabian Nights. There was that about Uncle Donald's personality
+which would have cast a sobering influence over the orgies of the
+Emperor Tiberius at Capri. To dine with him at a morgue like that relic
+of Old London, Bleke's Coffee House, which confined its custom
+principally to regular patrons who had not missed an evening there for
+half a century, was to touch something very near bed-rock. Ginger was
+extremely doubtful whether flesh and blood were equal to it.
+
+"To-night?" he said.  "Oh, you mean to-night? Well..."
+
+"Don't be a fool.  You know as well as I do that you've got to go."
+Uncle Donald's invitations were royal commands in the Family. "If
+you've another engagement you must put it off."
+
+"Oh, all right."
+
+"Seven-thirty sharp."
+
+"All right," said Ginger gloomily.
+
+The two men went their ways, Bruce Carmyle eastwards because he had
+clients to see in his chambers at the Temple; Ginger westwards because
+Mr. Carmyle had gone east. There was little sympathy between these
+cousins: yet, oddly enough, their thoughts as they walked centred on the
+same object. Bruce Carmyle, threading his way briskly through the crowds
+of Piccadilly Circus, was thinking of Sally: and so was Ginger as he
+loafed aimlessly towards Hyde Park Corner, bumping in a sort of coma
+from pedestrian to pedestrian.
+
+Since his return to London Ginger had been in bad shape.  He mooned
+through the days and slept poorly at night. If there is one thing
+rottener than another in a pretty blighted world, one thing which gives
+a fellow the pip and reduces him to the condition of an absolute onion,
+it is hopeless love. Hopeless love had got Ginger all stirred up. His
+had been hitherto a placid soul. Even the financial crash which had so
+altered his life had not bruised him very deeply. His temperament had
+enabled him to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with a
+philosophic "Right ho!" But now everything seemed different. Things
+irritated him acutely, which before he had accepted as inevitable--his
+Uncle Donald's moustache, for instance, and its owner's habit of
+employing it during meals as a sort of zareba or earthwork against the
+assaults of soup.
+
+"By gad!" thought Ginger, stopping suddenly opposite Devonshire House.
+"If he uses that damned shrubbery as soup-strainer to-night, I'll slosh
+him with a fork!"
+
+Hard thoughts... hard thoughts! And getting harder all the time, for
+nothing grows more quickly than a mood of rebellion. Rebellion is a
+forest fire that flames across the soul. The spark had been lighted in
+Ginger, and long before he reached Hyde Park Corner he was ablaze and
+crackling. By the time he returned to his club he was practically a
+menace to society--to that section of it, at any rate, which embraced
+his Uncle Donald, his minor uncles George and William, and his aunts
+Mary, Geraldine, and Louise.
+
+Nor had the mood passed when he began to dress for the dismal
+festivities of Bleke's Coffee House. He scowled as he struggled morosely
+with an obstinate tie. One cannot disguise the fact--Ginger was warming
+up. And it was just at this moment that Fate, as though it had been
+waiting for the psychological instant, applied the finishing touch.
+There was a knock at the door, and a waiter came in with a telegram.
+
+Ginger looked at the envelope.  It had been readdressed and forwarded on
+from the Hotel Normandie. It was a wireless, handed in on board the
+White Star liner Olympic, and it ran as follows:
+
+Remember.  Death to the Family.  S.
+
+Ginger sat down heavily on the bed.
+
+The driver of the taxi-cab which at twenty-five minutes past seven drew
+up at the dingy door of Bleke's Coffee House in the Strand was rather
+struck by his fare's manner and appearance. A determined-looking sort of
+young bloke, was the taxi-driver's verdict.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+SALLY HEARS NEWS
+
+
+
+It had been Sally's intention, on arriving in New York, to take a room
+at the St. Regis and revel in the gilded luxury to which her wealth
+entitled her before moving into the small but comfortable apartment
+which, as soon as she had the time, she intended to find and make her
+permanent abode. But when the moment came and she was giving directions
+to the taxi-driver at the dock, there seemed to her something
+revoltingly Fillmorian about the scheme. It would be time enough to
+sever herself from the boarding-house which had been her home for three
+years when she had found the apartment. Meanwhile, the decent thing to
+do, if she did not want to brand herself in the sight of her conscience
+as a female Fillmore, was to go back temporarily to Mrs. Meecher's
+admirable establishment and foregather with her old friends. After all,
+home is where the heart is, even if there are more prunes there than the
+gourmet would consider judicious.
+
+Perhaps it was the unavoidable complacency induced by the thought that
+she was doing the right thing, or possibly it was the tingling
+expectation of meeting Gerald Foster again after all these weeks of
+separation, that made the familiar streets seem wonderfully bright as
+she drove through them. It was a perfect, crisp New York morning, all
+blue sky and amber sunshine, and even the ash-cans had a stimulating
+look about them. The street cars were full of happy people rollicking
+off to work: policemen directed the traffic with jaunty affability: and
+the white-clad street-cleaners went about their poetic tasks with a
+quiet but none the less noticeable relish. It was improbable that any of
+these people knew that she was back, but somehow they all seemed to be
+behaving as though this were a special day.
+
+The first discordant note in this overture of happiness was struck by
+Mrs. Meecher, who informed Sally, after expressing her gratification at
+the news that she required her old room, that Gerald Foster had left
+town that morning.
+
+"Gone to Detroit, he has," said Mrs. Meecher.  "Miss Doland, too." She
+broke off to speak a caustic word to the boarding-house handyman, who,
+with Sally's trunk as a weapon, was depreciating the value of the
+wall-paper in the hall. "There's that play of his being tried out there,
+you know, Monday," resumed Mrs. Meecher, after the handyman had bumped
+his way up the staircase. "They been rehearsing ever since you left."
+
+Sally was disappointed, but it was such a beautiful morning, and New
+York was so wonderful after the dull voyage in the liner that she was
+not going to allow herself to be depressed without good reason. After
+all, she could go on to Detroit tomorrow. It was nice to have something
+to which she could look forward.
+
+"Oh, is Elsa in the company?" she said.
+
+"Sure.  And very good too, I hear." Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of
+theatrical gossip. She was an ex-member of the profession herself,
+having been in the first production of "Florodora," though, unlike
+everybody else, not one of the original Sextette. "Mr. Faucitt was down
+to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy
+to please, as you know."
+
+"How is Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+Mrs. Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
+tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
+Sally's uplifted mood.
+
+"Poor old gentleman, he ain't over and above well.  Went to bed early
+last night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he
+don't look well. There's a lot of this Spanish influenza about. It might
+be that. Lots o' people have been dying of it, if you believe what you
+see in the papers," said Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.
+
+"Good gracious! You don't think... ?"
+
+"Well, he ain't turned black," admitted Mrs. Meecher with regret.  "They
+say they turn black. If you believe what you see in the papers, that is.
+Of course, that may come later," she added with the air of one confident
+that all will come right in the future. "The doctor'll be in to see him
+pretty soon. He's quite happy. Toto's sitting with him."
+
+Sally's concern increased.  Like everyone who had ever spent any length
+of time in the house, she had strong views on Toto. This quadruped, who
+stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a
+small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to bear
+with equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range of a
+sick man. Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt. Mrs. Meecher, on the other
+hand, who held a faith in her little pet's amiability and power to
+soothe which seven years' close association had been unable to shake,
+seemed to feel that, with Toto on the spot, all that could be done had
+been done as far as pampering the invalid was concerned.
+
+"I must go up and see him," cried Sally.  "Poor old dear."
+
+"Sure.  You know his room.  You can hear Toto talking to him now," said
+Mrs. Meecher complacently. "He wants a cracker, that's what he wants.
+Toto likes a cracker after breakfast."
+
+The invalid's eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to the
+door. At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous rapture.
+Almost any intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at that moment,
+for his little playmate had long outstayed any welcome that might
+originally have been his: but that the caller should be his beloved
+Sally seemed to the old man something in the nature of a return of the
+age of miracles.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+"One moment.  Here, Toto!"
+
+Toto, struck momentarily dumb by the sight of food, had jumped off the
+bed and was standing with his head on one side, peering questioningly at
+the cracker. He was a suspicious dog, but he allowed himself to be lured
+into the passage, upon which Sally threw the cracker down and slipped in
+and shut the door. Toto, after a couple of yaps, which may have been
+gratitude or baffled fury, trotted off downstairs, and Mr. Faucitt drew
+a deep breath.
+
+"Sally, you come, as ever, as an angel of mercy.  Our worthy Mrs.
+Meecher means well, and I yield to no man in my respect for her innate
+kindness of heart: but she errs in supposing that that thrice-damned
+whelp of hers is a combination of sick-nurse, soothing medicine, and a
+week at the seaside. She insisted on bringing him here. He was yapping
+then, as he was yapping when, with womanly resource which I cannot
+sufficiently praise, you decoyed him hence. And each yap went through me
+like hammer-strokes on sheeted tin. Sally, you stand alone among
+womankind. You shine like a good deed in a naughty world. When did you
+get back?"
+
+"I've only just arrived in my hired barouche from the pier."
+
+"And you came to see your old friend without delay? I am grateful and
+flattered. Sally, my dear."
+
+"Of course I came to see you.  Do you suppose that, when Mrs. Meecher
+told me you were sick, I just said 'Is that so?' and went on talking
+about the weather? Well, what do you mean by it? Frightening everybody.
+Poor old darling, do you feel very bad?"
+
+"One thousand individual mice are nibbling the base of my spine, and I
+am conscious of a constant need of cooling refreshment. But what of
+that? Your presence is a tonic. Tell me, how did our Sally enjoy foreign
+travel?"
+
+"Our Sally had the time of her life."
+
+"Did you visit England?"
+
+"Only passing through."
+
+"How did it look?" asked Mr. Faucitt eagerly.
+
+"Moist.  Very moist."
+
+"It would," said Mr. Faucitt indulgently.  "I confess that, happy as I
+have been in this country, there are times when I miss those wonderful
+London days, when a sort of cosy brown mist hangs over the streets and
+the pavements ooze with a perspiration of mud and water, and you see
+through the haze the yellow glow of the Bodega lamps shining in the
+distance like harbour-lights. Not," said Mr. Faucitt, "that I specify
+the Bodega to the exclusion of other and equally worthy hostelries. I
+have passed just as pleasant hours in Rule's and Short's. You missed
+something by not lingering in England, Sally."
+
+"I know I did--pneumonia."
+
+Mr. Faucitt shook his head reproachfully.
+
+"You are prejudiced, my dear.  You would have enjoyed London if you had
+had the courage to brave its superficial gloom. Where did you spend your
+holiday? Paris?"
+
+"Part of the time.  And the rest of the while I was down by the sea.  It
+was glorious. I don't think I would ever have come back if I hadn't had
+to. But, of course, I wanted to see you all again. And I wanted to be at
+the opening of Mr. Foster's play. Mrs. Meecher tells me you went to one
+of the rehearsals."
+
+"I attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal," said Mr.
+Faucitt severely. "There is no rehearsing nowadays."
+
+"Oh dear! Was it as bad as all that?"
+
+"The play is good.  The play--I will go further--is excellent.  It has
+fat. But the acting..."
+
+"Mrs. Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good."
+
+"Our worthy hostess did not misreport me.  Miss Doland has great
+possibilities. She reminds me somewhat of Matilda Devine, under whose
+banner I played a season at the Old Royalty in London many years ago.
+She has the seeds of greatness in her, but she is wasted in the present
+case on an insignificant part. There is only one part in the play. I
+allude to the one murdered by Miss Mabel Hobson."
+
+"Murdered!" Sally's heart sank.  She had been afraid of this, and it was
+no satisfaction to feel that she had warned Gerald. "Is she very
+terrible?"
+
+"She has the face of an angel and the histrionic ability of that curious
+suet pudding which our estimable Mrs. Meecher is apt to give us on
+Fridays. In my professional career I have seen many cases of what I may
+term the Lady Friend in the role of star, but Miss Hobson eclipses them
+all. I remember in the year '94 a certain scion of the plutocracy took
+it into his head to present a female for whom he had conceived an
+admiration in a part which would have taxed the resources of the ablest.
+I was engaged in her support, and at the first rehearsal I recollect
+saying to my dear old friend, Arthur Moseby--dead, alas, these many
+years. An excellent juvenile, but, like so many good fellows, cursed
+with a tendency to lift the elbow--I recollect saying to him 'Arthur,
+dear boy, I give it two weeks.' 'Max,' was his reply, 'you are an
+incurable optimist. One consecutive night, laddie, one consecutive
+night.' We had, I recall, an even half-crown upon it. He won. We opened
+at Wigan, our leading lady got the bird, and the show closed next day. I
+was forcibly reminded of this incident as I watched Miss Hobson
+rehearsing."
+
+"Oh, poor Ger--poor Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I do not share your commiseration for that young man," said Mr. Faucitt
+austerely. "You probably are almost a stranger to him, but he and I have
+been thrown together a good deal of late. A young man upon whom, mark my
+words, success, if it ever comes, will have the worst effects. I dislike
+him. Sally. He is, I think, without exception, the most selfish and
+self-centred young man of my acquaintance. He reminds me very much of
+old Billy Fothergill, with whom I toured a good deal in the later
+eighties. Did I ever tell you the story of Billy and the amateur who...?"
+
+Sally was in no mood to listen to the adventures of Mr. Fothergill.  The
+old man's innocent criticism of Gerald had stabbed her deeply. A
+momentary impulse to speak hotly in his defence died away as she saw Mr.
+Faucitt's pale, worn old face. He had meant no harm, after all. How
+could he know what Gerald was to her?
+
+She changed the conversation abruptly.
+
+"Have you seen anything of Fillmore while I've been away?"
+
+"Fillmore? Why yes, my dear, curiously enough I happened to run into him
+on Broadway only a few days ago. He seemed changed--less stiff and aloof
+than he had been for some time past. I may be wronging him, but there
+have been times of late when one might almost have fancied him a trifle
+up-stage. All that was gone at our last encounter. He appeared glad to
+see me and was most cordial."
+
+Sally found her composure restored.  Her lecture on the night of the
+party had evidently, she thought, not been wasted. Mr. Faucitt, however,
+advanced another theory to account for the change in the Man of Destiny.
+
+"I rather fancy," he said, "that the softening influence has been the
+young man's fiancée."
+
+"What? Fillmore's not engaged?"
+
+"Did he not write and tell you? I suppose he was waiting to inform you
+when you returned. Yes, Fillmore is betrothed. The lady was with him
+when we met. A Miss Winch. In the profession, I understand. He
+introduced me. A very charming and sensible young lady, I thought."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"She can't be.  Fillmore would never have got engaged to anyone like
+that. Was her hair crimson?"
+
+"Brown, if I recollect rightly."
+
+"Very loud, I suppose, and overdressed?"
+
+"On the contrary, neat and quiet."
+
+"You've made a mistake," said Sally decidedly.  "She can't have been
+like that. I shall have to look into this. It does seem hard that I
+can't go away for a few weeks without all my friends taking to beds of
+sickness and all my brothers getting ensnared by vampires."
+
+A knock at the door interrupted her complaint.  Mrs. Meecher entered,
+ushering in a pleasant little man with spectacles and black bag.
+
+"The doctor to see you, Mr. Faucitt." Mrs. Meecher cast an appraising
+eye at the invalid, as if to detect symptoms of approaching
+discoloration. "I've been telling him that what I think you've gotten is
+this here new Spanish influenza. Two more deaths there were in the paper
+this morning, if you can believe what you see..."
+
+"I wonder," said the doctor, "if you would mind going and bringing me a
+small glass of water?"
+
+"Why, sure."
+
+"Not a large glass--a small glass.  Just let the tap run for a few
+moments and take care not to spill any as you come up the stairs. I
+always ask ladies, like our friend who has just gone," he added as the
+door closed, "to bring me a glass of water. It keeps them amused and
+interested and gets them out of the way, and they think I am going to do
+a conjuring trick with it. As a matter of fact, I'm going to drink it.
+Now let's have a look at you."
+
+The examination did not take long.  At the end of it the doctor seemed
+somewhat chagrined.
+
+"Our good friend's diagnosis was correct.  I'd give a leg to say it
+wasn't, but it was. It is this here new Spanish influenza. Not a bad
+attack. You want to stay in bed and keep warm, and I'll write you out a
+prescription. You ought to be nursed. Is this young lady a nurse?"
+
+"No, no, merely..."
+
+"Of course I'm a nurse," said Sally decidedly.  "It isn't difficult, is
+it, doctor? I know nurses smooth pillows. I can do that. Is there
+anything else?"
+
+"Their principal duty is to sit here and prevent the excellent and
+garrulous lady who has just left us from getting in. They must also be
+able to aim straight with a book or an old shoe, if that small woolly
+dog I met downstairs tries to force an entrance. If you are equal to
+these tasks, I can leave the case in your hands with every confidence."
+
+"But, Sally, my dear," said Mr. Faucitt, concerned, "you must not waste
+your time looking after me. You have a thousand things to occupy you."
+
+"There's nothing I want to do more than help you to get better.  I'll
+just go out and send a wire, and then I'll be right back."
+
+Five minutes later, Sally was in a Western Union office, telegraphing to
+Gerald that she would be unable to reach Detroit in time for the
+opening.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+FIRST AID FOR FILLMORE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It was not till the following Friday that Sally was able to start for
+Detroit. She arrived on the Saturday morning and drove to the Hotel
+Statler. Having ascertained that Gerald was stopping in the hotel and
+having 'phoned up to his room to tell him to join her, she went into the
+dining-room and ordered breakfast.
+
+She felt low-spirited as she waited for the food to arrive.  The nursing
+of Mr. Faucitt had left her tired, and she had not slept well on the
+train. But the real cause of her depression was the fact that there had
+been a lack of enthusiasm in Gerald's greeting over the telephone just
+now. He had spoken listlessly, as though the fact of her returning after
+all these weeks was a matter of no account, and she felt hurt and
+perplexed.
+
+A cup of coffee had a stimulating effect.  Men, of course, were always
+like this in the early morning. It would, no doubt, be a very different
+Gerald who would presently bound into the dining-room, quickened and
+restored by a cold shower-bath. In the meantime, here was food, and she
+needed it.
+
+She was pouring out her second cup of coffee when a stout young man, of
+whom she had caught a glimpse as he moved about that section of the
+hotel lobby which was visible through the open door of the dining-room,
+came in and stood peering about as though in search of someone. The
+momentary sight she had had of this young man had interested Sally. She
+had thought how extraordinarily like he was to her brother Fillmore. Now
+she perceived that it was Fillmore himself.
+
+Sally was puzzled.  What could Fillmore be doing so far west? She had
+supposed him to be a permanent resident of New York. But, of course,
+your man of affairs and vast interests flits about all over the place.
+At any rate, here he was, and she called him. And, after he had stood in
+the doorway looking in every direction except the right one for another
+minute, he saw her and came over to her table.
+
+"Why, Sally?" His manner, she thought, was nervous--one might almost
+have said embarrassed. She attributed this to a guilty conscience.
+Presently he would have to break to her the news that he had become
+engaged to be married without her sisterly sanction, and no doubt he was
+wondering how to begin. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in
+Europe."
+
+"I got back a week ago, but I've been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt ever
+since then. He's been ill, poor old dear. I've come here to see Mr.
+Foster's play, 'The Primrose Way,' you know. Is it a success?"
+
+"It hasn't opened yet."
+
+"Don't be silly, Fill.  Do pull yourself together.  It opened last
+Monday."
+
+"No, it didn't.  Haven't you heard? They've closed all the theatres
+because of this infernal Spanish influenza. Nothing has been playing
+this week. You must have seen it in the papers."
+
+"I haven't had time to read the papers.  Oh, Fill, what an awful shame!"
+
+"Yes, it's pretty tough.  Makes the company all on edge.  I've had the
+darndest time, I can tell you."
+
+"Why, what have you got to do with it?"
+
+Fillmore coughed.
+
+"I--er--oh, I didn't tell you that.  I'm sort of--er--mixed up in the
+show. Cracknell--you remember he was at college with me--suggested that
+I should come down and look at it. Shouldn't wonder if he wants me to
+put money into it and so on."
+
+"I thought he had all the money in the world."
+
+"Yes, he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
+thing."
+
+"Is it a good thing?"
+
+"The play's fine."
+
+"That's what Mr. Faucitt said.  But Mabel Hobson..."
+
+Fillmore's ample face registered emotion.
+
+"She's an awful woman, Sally! She can't act, and she throws her weight
+about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a
+paper-knife..."
+
+"How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?"
+
+"One of the props, you know.  It got mislaid.  I'm certain it wasn't my
+fault..."
+
+"How could it have been your fault?" asked Sally wonderingly.  Love
+seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality.
+
+"Well--er--you know how it is.  Angry woman... blames the first person
+she sees... This paper-knife..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off into pained silence.
+
+"Mr. Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good."
+
+"Oh, she's all right," said Fillmore indifferently.  "But--" His face
+brightened and animation crept into his voice. "But the girl you want to
+watch is Miss Winch. Gladys Winch. She plays the maid. She's only in the
+first act, and hasn't much to say, except 'Did you ring, madam?' and
+things like that. But it's the way she says 'em! Sally, that girl's a
+genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark my
+words, in a darned little while you'll see her name up on Broadway in
+electric light. Personality? Ask me! Charm? She wrote the words and
+music! Looks?..."
+
+"All right! All right! I know all about it, Fill.  And will you kindly
+inform me how you dared to get engaged without consulting me?"
+
+Fillmore blushed richly.
+
+"Oh, do you know?"
+
+"Yes.  Mr. Faucitt told me."
+
+"Well..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I'm only human," argued Fillmore.
+
+"I call that a very handsome admission.  You've got quite modest,
+Fill."
+
+He had certainly changed for the better since their last meeting.
+
+It was as if someone had punctured him and let out all the pomposity.
+If this was due, as Mr. Faucitt had suggested, to the influence of Miss
+Winch, Sally felt that she could not but approve of the romance.
+
+"I'll introduce you sometime,' said Fillmore.
+
+"I want to meet her very much."
+
+"I'll have to be going now.  I've got to see Bunbury.  I thought he
+might be in here."
+
+"Who's Bunbury?"
+
+"The producer.  I suppose he is breakfasting in his room.  I'd better go
+up."
+
+"You are busy, aren't you.  Little marvel! It's lucky they've got you to
+look after them."
+
+Fillmore retired and Sally settled down to wait for Gerald, no longer
+hurt by his manner over the telephone. Poor Gerald! No wonder he had
+seemed upset.
+
+A few minutes later he came in.
+
+"Oh, Jerry darling," said Sally, as he reached the table, "I'm so sorry.
+I've just been hearing about it."
+
+Gerald sat down.  His appearance fulfilled the promise of his voice over
+the telephone. A sort of nervous dullness wrapped him about like a
+garment.
+
+"It's just my luck," he said gloomily.  "It's the kind of thing that
+couldn't happen to anyone but me. Damned fools! Where's the sense in
+shutting the theatres, even if there is influenza about? They let people
+jam against one another all day in the stores. If that doesn't hurt them
+why should it hurt them to go to theatres? Besides, it's all infernal
+nonsense about this thing. I don't believe there is such a thing as
+Spanish influenza. People get colds in their heads and think they're
+dying. It's all a fake scare."
+
+"I don't think it's that," said Sally.  "Poor Mr. Faucitt had it quite
+badly. That's why I couldn't come earlier."
+
+Gerald did not seem interested either by the news of Mr. Faucitt's
+illness or by the fact that Sally, after delay, had at last arrived. He
+dug a spoon sombrely into his grape-fruit.
+
+"We've been hanging about here day after day, getting bored to death all
+the time... The company's going all to pieces. They're sick of
+rehearsing and rehearsing when nobody knows if we'll ever open. They
+were all keyed up a week ago, and they've been sagging ever since. It
+will ruin the play, of course. My first chance! Just chucked away."
+
+Sally was listening with a growing feeling of desolation.  She tried to
+be fair, to remember that he had had a terrible disappointment and was
+under a great strain. And yet... it was unfortunate that self-pity was a
+thing she particularly disliked in a man. Her vanity, too, was hurt. It
+was obvious that her arrival, so far from acting as a magic restorative,
+had effected nothing. She could not help remembering, though it made her
+feel disloyal, what Mr. Faucitt had said about Gerald. She had never
+noticed before that he was remarkably self-centred, but he was
+thrusting the fact upon her attention now.
+
+"That Hobson woman is beginning to make trouble," went on Gerald,
+prodding in a despairing sort of way at scrambled eggs. "She ought never
+to have had the part, never. She can't handle it. Elsa Doland could play
+it a thousand times better. I wrote Elsa in a few lines the other day,
+and the Hobson woman went right up in the air. You don't know what a
+star is till you've seen one of these promoted clothes-props from the
+Follies trying to be one. It took me an hour to talk her round and keep
+her from throwing up her part."
+
+"Why not let her throw up her part?"
+
+"For heaven's sake talk sense," said Gerald querulously.  "Do you
+suppose that man Cracknell would keep the play on if she wasn't in it?
+He would close the show in a second, and where would I be then? You
+don't seem to realize that this is a big chance for me. I'd look a fool
+throwing it away."
+
+"I see," said Sally, shortly.  She had never felt so wretched in her
+life. Foreign travel, she decided, was a mistake. It might be pleasant
+and broadening to the mind, but it seemed to put you so out of touch
+with people when you got back. She analysed her sensations, and arrived
+at the conclusion that what she was resenting was the fact that Gerald
+was trying to get the advantages of two attitudes simultaneously. A man
+in trouble may either be the captain of his soul and superior to pity,
+or he may be a broken thing for a woman to pet and comfort. Gerald, it
+seemed to her, was advertising himself as an object for her
+commiseration, and at the same time raising a barrier against it. He
+appeared to demand her sympathy while holding himself aloof from it. She
+had the uncomfortable sensation of feeling herself shut out and useless.
+
+"By the way," said Gerald, "there's one thing.  I have to keep her
+jollying along all the time, so for goodness' sake don't go letting it
+out that we're engaged."
+
+Sally's chin went up with a jerk.  This was too much.
+
+"If you find it a handicap being engaged to me..."
+
+"Don't be silly." Gerald took refuge in pathos.  "Good God! It's tough!
+Here am I, worried to death, and you..."
+
+Before he could finish the sentence, Sally's mood had undergone one of
+those swift changes which sometimes made her feel that she must be
+lacking in character. A simple, comforting thought had come to her,
+altering her entire outlook. She had come off the train tired and
+gritty, and what seemed the general out-of-jointness of the world was
+entirely due, she decided, to the fact that she had not had a bath and
+that her hair was all anyhow. She felt suddenly tranquil. If it was
+merely her grubby and dishevelled condition that made Gerald seem to her
+so different, all was well. She put her hand on his with a quick gesture
+of penitence.
+
+"I'm so sorry," she said.  "I've been a brute, but I do sympathize,
+really."
+
+"I've had an awful time," mumbled Gerald.
+
+"I know, I know.  But you never told me you were glad to see me."
+
+"Of course I'm glad to see you."
+
+"Why didn't you say so, then, you poor fish? And why didn't you ask me
+if I had enjoyed myself in Europe?"
+
+"Did you enjoy yourself?"
+
+"Yes, except that I missed you so much.  There! Now we can consider my
+lecture on foreign travel finished, and you can go on telling me your
+troubles."
+
+Gerald accepted the invitation.  He spoke at considerable length, though
+with little variety. It appeared definitely established in his mind that
+Providence had invented Spanish influenza purely with a view to wrecking
+his future. But now he seemed less aloof, more open to sympathy. The
+brief thunderstorm had cleared the air. Sally lost that sense of
+detachment and exclusion which had weighed upon her.
+
+"Well," said Gerald, at length, looking at his watch, "I suppose I had
+better be off."
+
+"Rehearsal?"
+
+"Yes, confound it.  It's the only way of getting through the day.  Are
+you coming along?"
+
+"I'll come directly I've unpacked and tidied myself up."
+
+"See you at the theatre, then."
+
+Sally went out and rang for the lift to take her up to her room.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The rehearsal had started when she reached the theatre.  As she entered
+the dark auditorium, voices came to her with that thin and reedy effect
+which is produced by people talking in an empty building. She sat down
+at the back of the house, and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom,
+was able to see Gerald sitting in the front row beside a man with a bald
+head fringed with orange hair whom she took correctly to be Mr. Bunbury,
+the producer. Dotted about the house in ones and twos were members of
+the company whose presence was not required in the first act. On the
+stage, Elsa Doland, looking very attractive, was playing a scene with a
+man in a bowler hat. She was speaking a line, as Sally came in.
+
+"Why, what do you mean, father?"
+
+"Tiddly-omty-om," was the bowler-hatted one's surprising reply.
+"Tiddly-omty-om... long speech ending in 'find me in the library.' And
+exit," said the man in the bowler hat, starting to do so.
+
+For the first time Sally became aware of the atmosphere of nerves.  Mr.
+Bunbury, who seemed to be a man of temperament, picked up his
+walking-stick, which was leaning against the next seat, and flung it
+with some violence across the house.
+
+"For God's sake!" said Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Now what?" inquired the bowler hat, interested, pausing hallway across
+the stage.
+
+"Do speak the lines, Teddy," exclaimed Gerald.  "Don't skip them in that
+sloppy fashion."
+
+"You don't want me to go over the whole thing?" asked the bowler hat,
+amazed.
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Not the whole damn thing?" queried the bowler hat, fighting with
+incredulity.
+
+"This is a rehearsal," snapped Mr. Bunbury.  "If we are not going to do
+it properly, what's the use of doing it at all?"
+
+This seemed to strike the erring Teddy, if not as reasonable, at any
+rate as one way of looking at it. He delivered the speech in an injured
+tone and shuffled off. The atmosphere of tenseness was unmistakable now.
+Sally could feel it. The world of the theatre is simply a large nursery
+and its inhabitants children who readily become fretful if anything goes
+wrong. The waiting and the uncertainty, the loafing about in strange
+hotels in a strange city, the dreary rehearsing of lines which had been
+polished to the last syllable more than a week ago--these things had
+sapped the nerve of the Primrose Way company and demoralization had set
+in. It would require only a trifle to produce an explosion.
+
+Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a
+magazine from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights. A
+moment later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be
+greeted instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.
+
+"Miss Winch!"
+
+The new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
+pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of genial
+indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse the
+children. She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking girl with a
+serious face, the gravity of which was contradicted by the faint smile
+that seemed to lurk about the corner of her mouth. She was certainly not
+pretty, and Sally, watching her with keen interest, was surprised that
+Fillmore had had the sense to disregard surface homeliness and recognize
+her charm. Deep down in Fillmore, Sally decided, there must lurk an
+unsuspected vein of intelligence.
+
+"Hello?" said Miss Winch, amiably.
+
+Mr. Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.
+
+"Miss Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum
+during rehearsal?"
+
+"That's right, so you did," admitted Miss Winch, chummily.
+
+"Then why are you doing it?"
+
+Fillmore's fiancée revolved the criticized refreshment about her tongue
+for a moment before replying.
+
+"Bit o' business," she announced, at length.
+
+"What do you mean, a bit of business?"
+
+"Character stuff," explained Miss Winch in her pleasant, drawling voice.
+"Thought it out myself. Maids chew gum, you know."
+
+Mr. Bunbury ruffled his orange hair in an over-wrought manner with the
+palm of his right hand.
+
+"Have you ever seen a maid?" he asked, despairingly.
+
+"Yes, sir.  And they chew gum."
+
+"I mean a parlour-maid in a smart house," moaned Mr. Bunbury.  "Do you
+imagine for a moment that in a house such as this is supposed to be the
+parlour-maid would be allowed to come into the drawing-room champing
+that disgusting, beastly stuff?"
+
+Miss Winch considered the point.
+
+"Maybe you're right." She brightened.  "Listen! Great idea! Mr. Foster
+can write in a line for Elsa, calling me down, and another giving me a
+good come-back, and then another for Elsa saying something else, and
+then something really funny for me, and so on. We can work it up into a
+big comic scene. Five or six minutes, all laughs."
+
+This ingenious suggestion had the effect of depriving the producer
+momentarily of speech, and while he was struggling for utterance, there
+dashed out from the wings a gorgeous being in blue velvet and a hat of
+such unimpeachable smartness that Sally ached at the sight of it with a
+spasm of pure envy.
+
+"Say!"
+
+Miss Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which nature
+can bestow with the exception of a musical voice. Her figure was
+perfect, her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but her
+voice in moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.
+
+"Say, listen to me for just one moment!"
+
+Mr. Bunbury recovered from his trance.
+
+"Miss Hobson! Please!"
+
+"Yes, that's all very well..."
+
+"You are interrupting the rehearsal."
+
+"You bet your sorrowful existence I'm interrupting the rehearsal,"
+agreed Miss Hobson, with emphasis. "And, if you want to make a little
+easy money, you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I'm going to
+interrupt it again every time there's any talk of writing up any darned
+part in the show except mine. Write up other people's parts? Not while I
+have my strength!"
+
+A young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings in
+close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.
+
+"Now, sweetie!"
+
+"Oh, can it, Reggie!" said Miss Hobson, curtly.
+
+Mr. Cracknell obediently canned it.  He was not one of your brutal
+cave-men. He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began to
+chew the knob of his stick.
+
+"I'm the star," resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, "and, if you think
+anybody else's part's going to be written up... well, pardon me while I
+choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable is written into anybody's
+part, I walk straight out on my two feet. You won't see me go, I'll be
+so quick."
+
+Mr. Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.
+
+"For heaven's sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating society?
+Miss Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody's part. Now are
+you satisfied?"
+
+"She said..."
+
+"Oh, never mind," observed Miss Winch, equably.  "It was only a random
+thought. Working for the good of the show all the time. That's me."
+
+"Now, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like a
+tortoise.
+
+Miss Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.
+
+"Oh, well, that's all right, then.  But don't forget I know how to look
+after myself," she said, stating a fact which was abundantly obvious to
+all who had had the privilege of listening to her. "Any raw work, and
+out I walk so quick it'll make you giddy."
+
+She retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.
+
+"Shall I say my big speech now?" inquired Miss Winch, over the
+footlights.
+
+"Yes, yes! Get on with the rehearsal.  We've wasted half the morning."
+
+"Did you ring, madam?" said Miss Winch to Elsa, who had been reading her
+magazine placidly through the late scene.
+
+The rehearsal proceeded, and Sally watched it with a sinking heart.  It
+was all wrong. Novice as she was in things theatrical, she could see
+that. There was no doubt that Miss Hobson was superbly beautiful and
+would have shed lustre on any part which involved the minimum of words
+and the maximum of clothes: but in the pivotal role of a serious play,
+her very physical attributes only served to emphasize and point her
+hopeless incapacity. Sally remembered Mr. Faucitt's story of the lady
+who got the bird at Wigan. She did not see how history could fail to
+repeat itself. The theatrical public of America will endure much from
+youth and beauty, but there is a limit.
+
+A shrill, passionate cry from the front row, and Mr. Bunbury was on his
+feet again. Sally could not help wondering whether things were going
+particularly wrong to-day, or whether this was one of Mr. Bunbury's
+ordinary mornings.
+
+"Miss Hobson!"
+
+The action of the drama had just brought that emotional lady on left
+centre and had taken her across to the desk which stood on the other
+side of the stage. The desk was an important feature of the play, for
+it symbolized the absorption in business which, exhibited by her
+husband, was rapidly breaking Miss Hobson's heart. He loved his desk
+better than his young wife, that was what it amounted to, and no wife
+can stand that sort of thing.
+
+"Oh, gee!" said Miss Hobson, ceasing to be the distressed wife and
+becoming the offended star. "What's it this time?"
+
+"I suggested at the last rehearsal and at the rehearsal before and the
+rehearsal before that, that, on that line, you, should pick up the
+paper-knife and toy negligently with it. You did it yesterday, and
+to-day you've forgotten it again."
+
+"My God!" cried Miss Hobson, wounded to the quick. "If this don't beat
+everything! How the heck can I toy negligently with a paper-knife when
+there's no paper-knife for me to toy negligently with?"
+
+"The paper-knife is on the desk."
+
+"It's not on the desk."
+
+"No paper-knife?"
+
+"No paper-knife.  And it's no good picking on me.  I'm the star, not the
+assistant stage manager. If you're going to pick on anybody, pick on
+him."
+
+The advice appeared to strike Mr. Bunbury as good.  He threw back his
+head and bayed like a bloodhound.
+
+There was a momentary pause, and then from the wings on the prompt side
+there shambled out a stout and shrinking figure, in whose hand was a
+script of the play and on whose face, lit up by the footlights, there
+shone a look of apprehension. It was Fillmore, the Man of Destiny.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Alas, poor Fillmore! He stood in the middle of the stage with the
+lightning of Mr. Bunbury's wrath playing about his defenceless head, and
+Sally, recovering from her first astonishment, sent a wave of sisterly
+commiseration floating across the theatre to him. She did not often pity
+Fillmore. His was a nature which in the sunshine of prosperity had a
+tendency to grow a trifle lush; and such of the minor ills of life as
+had afflicted him during the past three years, had, she considered, been
+wholesome and educative and a matter not for concern but for
+congratulation. Unmoved, she had watched him through that lean period
+lunching on coffee and buckwheat cakes, and curbing from motives of
+economy a somewhat florid taste in dress. But this was different. This
+was tragedy. Somehow or other, blasting disaster must have smitten the
+Fillmore bank-roll, and he was back where he had started. His presence
+here this morning could mean nothing else.
+
+She recalled his words at the breakfast-table about financing the play.
+How like Fillmore to try to save his face for the moment with an
+outrageous bluff, though well aware that he would have to reveal the
+truth sooner or later. She realized how he must have felt when he had
+seen her at the hotel. Yes, she was sorry for Fillmore.
+
+And, as she listened to the fervent eloquence of Mr. Bunbury, she
+perceived that she had every reason to be. Fillmore was having a bad
+time. One of the chief articles of faith in the creed of all theatrical
+producers is that if anything goes wrong it must be the fault of the
+assistant stage manager and Mr. Bunbury was evidently orthodox in his
+views. He was showing oratorical gifts of no mean order. The paper-knife
+seemed to inspire him. Gradually, Sally began to get the feeling that
+this harmless, necessary stage-property was the source from which sprang
+most, if not all, of the trouble in the world. It had disappeared
+before. Now it had disappeared again. Could Mr. Bunbury go on
+struggling in a universe where this sort of thing happened? He seemed to
+doubt it. Being a red-blooded, one-hundred-per-cent American man, he
+would try hard, but it was a hundred to one shot that he would get
+through. He had asked for a paper-knife. There was no paper-knife. Why
+was there no paper-knife? Where was the paper-knife anyway?
+
+"I assure you, Mr. Bunbury," bleated the unhappy Fillmore, obsequiously.
+"I placed it with the rest of the properties after the last rehearsal."
+
+"You couldn't have done."
+
+"I assure you I did."
+
+"And it walked away, I suppose," said Miss Hobson with cold scorn,
+pausing in the operation of brightening up her lower lip with a
+lip-stick.
+
+A calm, clear voice spoke.
+
+"It was taken away," said the calm, clear voice.
+
+Miss Winch had added herself to the symposium.  She stood beside
+Fillmore, chewing placidly. It took more than raised voices and
+gesticulating hands to disturb Miss Winch.
+
+"Miss Hobson took it," she went on in her cosy, drawling voice.  "I saw
+her."
+
+Sensation in court.  The prisoner, who seemed to feel his position
+deeply, cast a pop-eyed glance full of gratitude at his advocate. Mr.
+Bunbury, in his capacity of prosecuting attorney, ran his fingers
+through his hair in some embarrassment, for he was regretting now that
+he had made such a fuss. Miss Hobson thus assailed by an underling, spun
+round and dropped the lip-stick, which was neatly retrieved by the
+assiduous Mr. Cracknell. Mr. Cracknell had his limitations, but he was
+rather good at picking up lip-sticks.
+
+"What's that? I took it? I never did anything of the sort."
+
+"Miss Hobson took it after the rehearsal yesterday," drawled Gladys
+Winch, addressing the world in general, "and threw it negligently at the
+theatre cat."
+
+Miss Hobson seemed taken aback.  Her composure was not restored by Mr.
+Bunbury's next remark. The producer, like his company, had been feeling
+the strain of the past few days, and, though as a rule he avoided
+anything in the nature of a clash with the temperamental star, this
+matter of the missing paper-knife had bitten so deeply into his soul
+that he felt compelled to speak his mind.
+
+"In future, Miss Hobson, I should be glad if, when you wish to throw
+anything at the cat, you would not select a missile from the property
+box. Good heavens!" he cried, stung by the way fate was maltreating him,
+"I have never experienced anything like this before. I have been
+producing plays all my life, and this is the first time this has
+happened. I have produced Nazimova. Nazimova never threw paper-knives at
+cats."
+
+"Well, I hate cats," said Miss Hobson, as though that settled it.
+
+"I," murmured Miss Winch, "love little pussy, her fur is so warm, and if
+I don't hurt her she'll do me no..."
+
+"Oh, my heavens!" shouted Gerald Foster, bounding from his seat and for
+the first time taking a share in the debate. "Are we going to spend the
+whole day arguing about cats and paper-knives? For goodness' sake, clear
+the stage and stop wasting time."
+
+Miss Hobson chose to regard this intervention as an affront.
+
+"Don't shout at me, Mr. Foster!"
+
+"I wasn't shouting at you."
+
+"If you have anything to say to me, lower your voice."
+
+"He can't," observed Miss Winch.  "He's a tenor."
+
+"Nazimova never..." began Mr. Bunbury.
+
+Miss Hobson was not to be diverted from her theme by reminiscences of
+Nazimova. She had not finished dealing with Gerald.
+
+"In the shows I've been in," she said, mordantly, "the author wasn't
+allowed to go about the place getting fresh with the leading lady. In
+the shows I've been in the author sat at the back and spoke when he was
+spoken to. In the shows I've been in..."
+
+Sally was tingling all over.  This reminded her of the dog-fight on the
+Roville sands. She wanted to be in it, and only the recognition that it
+was a private fight and that she would be intruding kept her silent. The
+lure of the fray, however, was too strong for her wholly to resist it.
+Almost unconsciously, she had risen from her place and drifted down the
+aisle so as to be nearer the white-hot centre of things. She was now
+standing in the lighted space by the orchestra-pit, and her presence
+attracted the roving attention of Miss Hobson, who, having concluded her
+remarks on authors and their legitimate sphere of activity, was looking
+about for some other object of attack.
+
+"Who the devil," inquired Miss Hobson, "is that?"
+
+Sally found herself an object of universal scrutiny and wished that she
+had remained in the obscurity of the back rows.
+
+"I am Mr. Nicholas' sister," was the best method of identification that
+she could find.
+
+"Who's Mr. Nicholas?"
+
+Fillmore timidly admitted that he was Mr. Nicholas.  He did it in the
+manner of one in the dock pleading guilty to a major charge, and at
+least half of those present seemed surprised. To them, till now,
+Fillmore had been a nameless thing, answering to the shout of "Hi!"
+
+Miss Hobson received the information with a laugh of such exceeding
+bitterness that strong men blanched and Mr. Cracknell started so
+convulsively that he nearly jerked his collar off its stud.
+
+"Now, sweetie!" urged Mr. Cracknell.
+
+Miss Hobson said that Mr. Cracknell gave her a pain in the gizzard.  She
+recommended his fading away, and he did so--into his collar. He seemed
+to feel that once well inside his collar he was "home" and safe from
+attack.
+
+"I'm through!" announced Miss Hobson.  It appeared that Sally's presence
+had in some mysterious fashion fulfilled the function of the last straw.
+"This is the by-Goddest show I was ever in! I can stand for a whole lot,
+but when it comes to the assistant stage manager being allowed to fill
+the theatre with his sisters and his cousins and his aunts it's time to
+quit."
+
+"But, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, coming to the surface.
+
+"Oh, go and choke yourself!" said Miss Hobson, crisply.  And, swinging
+round like a blue panther, she strode off. A door banged, and the sound
+of it seemed to restore Mr. Cracknell's power of movement. He, too, shot
+up stage and disappeared.
+
+"Hello, Sally," said Elsa Doland, looking up from her magazine.  The
+battle, raging all round her, had failed to disturb her detachment.
+"When did you get back?"
+
+Sally trotted up the steps which had been propped against the stage to
+form a bridge over the orchestra pit.
+
+"Hello, Elsa."
+
+The late debaters had split into groups.  Mr. Bunbury and Gerald were
+pacing up and down the central aisle, talking earnestly. Fillmore had
+subsided into a chair.
+
+"Do you know Gladys Winch?" asked Elsa.
+
+Sally shook hands with the placid lodestar of her brother's affections.
+Miss Winch, on closer inspection, proved to have deep grey eyes and
+freckles. Sally's liking for her increased.
+
+"Thank you for saving Fillmore from the wolves," she said.  "They would
+have torn him in pieces but for you."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Winch.
+
+"It was noble."
+
+"Oh, well!"
+
+"I think," said Sally, "I'll go and have a talk with Fillmore.  He looks
+as though he wanted consoling."
+
+She made her way to that picturesque ruin.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Fillmore had the air of a man who thought it wasn't loaded.  A wild,
+startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he was
+breathing heavily.
+
+"Cheer up!" said Sally.  Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly.  "Tell
+me all," said Sally, sitting down beside him. "I leave you a gentleman
+of large and independent means, and I come back and find you one of the
+wage-slaves again. How did it all happen?"
+
+"Sally," said Fillmore, "I will be frank with you.  Can you lend me ten
+dollars?"
+
+"I don't see how you make that out an answer to my question, but here
+you are."
+
+"Thanks." Fillmore pocketed the bill.  "I'll let you have it back next
+week. I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch."
+
+"If that's what you want it for, don't look on it as a loan, take it as
+a gift with my blessing thrown in." She looked over her shoulder at Miss
+Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being temporarily suspended, was
+practising golf-shots with an umbrella at the other side of the stage.
+"However did you have the sense to fall in love with her, Fill?"
+
+"Do you like her?" asked Fillmore, brightening.
+
+"I love her."
+
+"I knew you would.  She's just the right girl for me, isn't she?"
+
+"She certainly is."
+
+"So sympathetic."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So kind."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity
+the girl who marries you will need."
+
+Fillmore drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting in
+a low chair can achieve.
+
+"Some day I will make you believe in me, Sally."
+
+"Less of the Merchant Prince, my lad," said Sally, firmly.  "You just
+confine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of taking
+up my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the future. You've
+lost all your money?"
+
+"I have suffered certain reverses," said Fillmore, with dignity, "which
+have left me temporarily... Yes, every bean," he concluded simply.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well..." Fillmore hesitated.  "I've had bad luck, you know.  First I
+bought Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell. So that went
+wrong."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose.  So that
+went wrong."
+
+"Good gracious! Why, I've heard all this before."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"No, I remember now.  It's just that you remind me of a man I met at
+Roville. He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had made a
+hash of everything. Well, that took all you had, I suppose?"
+
+"Not quite.  I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal that
+really did look cast-iron."
+
+"And that went wrong!"
+
+"It wasn't my fault," said Fillmore querulously.  "It was just my
+poisonous luck. A man I knew got me to join a syndicate which had bought
+up a lot of whisky. The idea was to ship it into Chicago in
+herring-barrels. We should have cleaned up big, only a mutt of a
+detective took it into his darned head to go fooling about with a
+crowbar. Officious ass! It wasn't as if the barrels weren't labelled
+'Herrings' as plainly as they could be," said Fillmore with honest
+indignation. He shuddered. "I nearly got arrested."
+
+"But that went wrong? Well, that's something to be thankful for.
+Stripes wouldn't suit your figure." Sally gave his arm a squeeze. She
+was very fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his soul she generally
+concealed her affection beneath a manner which he had once compared, not
+without some reason, to that of a governess who had afflicted their
+mutual childhood. "Never mind, you poor ill-used martyr. Things are sure
+to come right. We shall see you a millionaire some day. And, oh heavens,
+brother Fillmore, what a bore you'll be when you are! I can just see you
+being interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good.
+'Mr. Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work. He can lay his
+hand on his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged in
+those rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise and
+watch things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and watch 'em
+rise.' Fill... I'll tell you what I'll do. They all say it's the first
+bit of money that counts in building a vast fortune. I'll lend you some
+of mine."
+
+"You will? Sally, I always said you were an ace."
+
+"I never heard you.  You oughtn't to mumble so."
+
+"Will you lend me twenty thousand dollars?"
+
+Sally patted his hand soothingly.
+
+"Come slowly down to earth," she said.  "Two hundred was the sum I had
+in mind."
+
+"I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You'd better rob a bank.  Any policeman will direct you to a good
+bank."
+
+"I'll tell you why I want twenty thousand."
+
+"You might just mention it."
+
+"If I had twenty thousand, I'd buy this production from Cracknell.
+He'll be back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman has
+quit: and, if she really has, you take it from me that he will close the
+show. And, even if he manages to jolly her along this time and she comes
+back, it's going to happen sooner or later. It's a shame to let a show
+like this close. I believe in it, Sally. It's a darn good play. With
+Elsa Doland in the big part, it couldn't fail."
+
+Sally started.  Her money was too recent for her to have grown fully
+accustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a position
+to wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale. The financing of
+a theatrical production had always been to her something mysterious and
+out of the reach of ordinary persons like herself. Fillmore, that
+spacious thinker, had brought it into the sphere of the possible.
+
+"He'd sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit in
+hand. You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York.
+I'd give you ten per cent on your money, Sally."
+
+Sally found herself wavering.  The prudent side of her nature, which
+hitherto had steered her safely through most of life's rapids, seemed
+oddly dormant. Sub-consciously she was aware that on past performances
+Fillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control of anybody's
+little fortune, but somehow the thought did not seem to grip her. He had
+touched her imagination.
+
+"It's a gold-mine!"
+
+Sally's prudent side stirred in its sleep.  Fillmore had chosen an
+unfortunate expression. To the novice in finance the word gold-mine had
+repellent associations. If there was one thing in which Sally had
+proposed not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she had had
+in view, as a matter of fact, had been one of those little fancy shops
+which are called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or something like
+that, where you sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy at extortionate
+prices. She knew two girls who were doing splendidly in that line. As
+Fillmore spoke those words, Ye Corner Shoppe suddenly looked very good
+to her.
+
+At this moment, however, two things happened.  Gerald and Mr. Bunbury,
+in the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of the
+footlights, and she was able to see Gerald's face: and at the same time
+Mr. Reginald Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole demeanour that
+of the bearer of evil tidings.
+
+The sight of Gerald's face annihilated Sally's prudence at a single
+stroke. Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been shining
+brightly before her mental eye, flickered and melted out. The whole
+issue became clear and simple. Gerald was miserable and she had it in
+her power to make him happy. He was sullenly awaiting disaster and she
+with a word could avert it. She wondered that she had ever hesitated.
+
+"All right," she said simply.
+
+Fillmore quivered from head to foot.  A powerful electric shock could
+not have produced a stronger convulsion. He knew Sally of old as
+cautious and clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother's
+eloquence; and he had never looked on this thing as anything better than
+a hundred to one shot.
+
+"You'll do it?" he whispered, and held his breath.  After all he might
+not have heard correctly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+All the complex emotion in Fillmore's soul found expression in one vast
+whoop. It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump, beating
+against the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very gallery.
+Mr. Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr. Cracknell across the
+footlights, shied like a startled mule. There was reproach and menace in
+the look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute earlier it would have reduced
+that financial magnate to apologetic pulp. But Fillmore was not to be
+intimidated now by a look. He strode down to the group at the
+footlights,
+
+"Cracknell," he said importantly, "one moment, I should like a word with
+you."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS
+
+
+
+If actors and actresses are like children in that they are readily
+depressed by disaster, they have the child's compensating gift of being
+easily uplifted by good fortune. It amazed Sally that any one mortal
+should have been able to spread such universal happiness as she had done
+by the simple act of lending her brother Fillmore twenty thousand
+dollars. If the Millennium had arrived, the members of the Primrose Way
+Company could not have been on better terms with themselves. The
+lethargy and dispiritedness, caused by their week of inaction, fell from
+them like a cloak. The sudden elevation of that creature of the abyss,
+the assistant stage manager, to the dizzy height of proprietor of the
+show appealed to their sense of drama. Most of them had played in pieces
+where much the same thing had happened to the persecuted heroine round
+about eleven o'clock, and the situation struck them as theatrically
+sound. Also, now that she had gone, the extent to which Miss Hobson had
+acted as a blight was universally recognized.
+
+A spirit of optimism reigned, and cheerful rumours became current.  The
+bowler-hatted Teddy had it straight from the lift-boy at his hotel that
+the ban on the theatres was to be lifted on Tuesday at the latest; while
+no less an authority than the cigar-stand girl at the Pontchatrain had
+informed the man who played the butler that Toledo and Cleveland were
+opening to-morrow. It was generally felt that the sun was bursting
+through the clouds and that Fate would soon despair of the hopeless task
+of trying to keep good men down.
+
+Fillmore was himself again.  We all have our particular mode of
+self-expression in moments of elation. Fillmore's took the shape of
+buying a new waistcoat and a hundred half-dollar cigars and being very
+fussy about what he had for lunch. It may have been an optical illusion,
+but he appeared to Sally to put on at least six pounds in weight on the
+first day of the new regime. As a serf looking after paper-knives and
+other properties, he had been--for him--almost slim. As a manager he
+blossomed out into soft billowy curves, and when he stood on the
+sidewalk in front of the theatre, gloating over the new posters which
+bore the legend,
+
+
+
+FILLMORE NICHOLAS
+
+PRESENTS
+
+
+
+the populace had to make a detour to get round him.
+
+In this era of bubbling joy, it was hard that Sally, the fairy godmother
+responsible for it all, should not have been completely happy too; and
+it puzzled her why she was not. But whatever it was that cast the faint
+shadow refused obstinately to come out from the back of her mind and
+show itself and be challenged. It was not till she was out driving in a
+hired car with Gerald one afternoon on Belle Isle that enlightenment
+came.
+
+Gerald, since the departure of Miss Hobson, had been at his best.  Like
+Fillmore, he was a man who responded to the sunshine of prosperity. His
+moodiness had vanished, and all his old charm had returned. And yet...
+it seemed to Sally, as the car slid smoothly through the pleasant woods
+and fields by the river, that there was something that jarred.
+
+Gerald was cheerful and talkative.  He, at any rate, found nothing wrong
+with life. He held forth spaciously on the big things he intended to do.
+
+"If this play get over--and it's going to--I'll show 'em!" His jaw was
+squared, and his eyes glowed as they stared into the inviting future.
+"One success--that's all I need--then watch me! I haven't had a chance
+yet, but..."
+
+His voice rolled on, but Sally had ceased to listen.  It was the time of
+year when the chill of evening follows swiftly on the mellow warmth of
+afternoon. The sun had gone behind the trees, and a cold wind was
+blowing up from the river. And quite suddenly, as though it was the wind
+that had cleared her mind, she understood what it was that had been
+lurking at the back of her thoughts. For an instant it stood out nakedly
+without concealment, and the world became a forlorn place. She had
+realized the fundamental difference between man's outlook on life and
+woman's.
+
+Success! How men worshipped it, and how little of themselves they had
+to spare for anything else. Ironically, it was the theme of this very
+play of Gerald's which she had saved from destruction. Of all the men
+she knew, how many had any view of life except as a race which they must
+strain every nerve to win, regardless of what they missed by the wayside
+in their haste? Fillmore--Gerald--all of them. There might be a woman in
+each of their lives, but she came second--an afterthought--a thing for
+their spare time. Gerald was everything to her. His success would never
+be more than a side-issue as far as she was concerned. He himself,
+without any of the trappings of success, was enough for her. But she was
+not enough for him. A spasm of futile jealousy shook her. She shivered.
+
+"Cold?" said Gerald.  "I'll tell the man to drive back... I don't see
+any reason why this play shouldn't run a year in New York. Everybody
+says it's good... if it does get over, they'll all be after me. I..."
+
+Sally stared out into a bleak world.  The sky was a leaden grey, and the
+wind from the river blew with a dismal chill.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE--AND GINGER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+When Sally left Detroit on the following Saturday, accompanied by
+Fillmore, who was returning to the metropolis for a few days in order to
+secure offices and generally make his presence felt along Broadway, her
+spirits had completely recovered. She felt guiltily that she had been
+fanciful, even morbid. Naturally men wanted to get on in the world. It
+was their job. She told herself that she was bound up with Gerald's
+success, and that the last thing of which she ought to complain was the
+energy he put into efforts of which she as well as he would reap the
+reward.
+
+To this happier frame of mind the excitement of the last few days had
+contributed. Detroit, that city of amiable audiences, had liked "The
+Primrose Way." The theatre, in fulfilment of Teddy's prophecy, had been
+allowed to open on the Tuesday, and a full house, hungry for
+entertainment after its enforced abstinence, had welcomed the play
+wholeheartedly. The papers, not always in agreement with the applause
+of a first-night audience, had on this occasion endorsed the verdict,
+with agreeable unanimity hailing Gerald as the coming author and Elsa
+Doland as the coming star. There had even been a brief mention of
+Fillmore as the coming manager. But there is always some trifle that
+jars in our greatest moments, and Fillmore's triumph had been almost
+spoilt by the fact that the only notice taken of Gladys Winch was by the
+critic who printed her name--spelt Wunch--in the list of those whom the
+cast "also included."
+
+"One of the greatest character actresses on the stage," said Fillmore
+bitterly, talking over this outrage with Sally on the morning after the
+production.
+
+From this blow, however, his buoyant nature had soon enabled him to
+rally. Life contained so much that was bright that it would have been
+churlish to concentrate the attention on the one dark spot. Business had
+been excellent all through the week. Elsa Doland had got better at every
+performance. The receipt of a long and agitated telegram from Mr.
+Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the passage of
+time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a pleasant incident.
+And, best of all, the great Ike Schumann, who owned half the theatres in
+New York and had been in Detroit superintending one of his musical
+productions, had looked in one evening and stamped "The Primrose Way"
+with the seal of his approval. As Fillmore sat opposite Sally on the
+train, he radiated contentment and importance.
+
+"Yes, do," said Sally, breaking a long silence.
+
+Fillmore awoke from happy dreams.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I said 'Yes, do.' I think you owe it to your position."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Buy a fur coat.  Wasn't that what you were meditating about?"
+
+"Don't be a chump," said Fillmore, blushing nevertheless.  It was true
+that once or twice during the past week he had toyed negligently, as Mr.
+Bunbury would have said, with the notion, and why not? A fellow must
+keep warm.
+
+"With an astrakhan collar," insisted Sally.
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Fillmore loftily, his great soul ill-attuned
+to this badinage, "what I was really thinking about at the moment was
+something Ike said."
+
+"Ike?"
+
+"Ike Schumann.  He's on the train.  I met him just now."
+
+"We call him Ike!"
+
+"Of course I call him Ike," said Fillmore heatedly.  "Everyone calls
+him Ike."
+
+"He wears a fur coat," Sally murmured.
+
+Fillmore registered annoyance.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't keep on harping on that damned coat.  And, anyway,
+why shouldn't I have a fur coat?"
+
+"Fill... ! How can you be so brutal as to suggest that I ever said you
+shouldn't? Why, I'm one of the strongest supporters of the fur coat.
+With big cuffs. And you must roll up Fifth Avenue in your car, and I'll
+point and say 'That's my brother!' 'Your brother? No!' 'He is, really.'
+'You're joking. Why, that's the great Fillmore Nicholas.' 'I know. But
+he really is my brother. And I was with him when he bought that coat.'"
+
+"Do leave off about the coat!"
+
+"'And it isn't only the coat,' I shall say.  'It's what's underneath.
+Tucked away inside that mass of fur, dodging about behind that dollar
+cigar, is one to whom we point with pride... '"
+
+Fillmore looked coldly at his watch.
+
+"I've got to go and see Ike Schumann."
+
+"We are in hourly consultation with Ike."
+
+"He wants to see me about the show.  He suggests putting it into Chicago
+before opening in New York."
+
+"Oh no," cried Sally, dismayed.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Sally recovered herself.  Identifying Gerald so closely with his play,
+she had supposed for a moment that if the piece opened in Chicago it
+would mean a further prolonged separation from him. But of course there
+would be no need, she realized, for him to stay with the company after
+the first day or two.
+
+"You're thinking that we ought to have a New York reputation before
+tackling Chicago. There's a lot to be said for that. Still, it works
+both ways. A Chicago run would help us in New York. Well, I'll have to
+think it over," said Fillmore, importantly, "I'll have to think it
+over."
+
+He mused with drawn brows.
+
+"All wrong," said Sally.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Not a bit like it.  The lips should be compressed and the forefinger of
+the right hand laid in a careworn way against the right temple. You've a
+lot to learn. Fill."
+
+"Oh, stop it!"
+
+"Fillmore Nicholas," said Sally, "if you knew what pain it gives me to
+josh my only brother, you'd be sorry for me. But you know it's for your
+good. Now run along and put Ike out of his misery. I know he's waiting
+for you with his watch out. 'You do think he'll come, Miss Nicholas?'
+were his last words to me as he stepped on the train, and oh, Fill, the
+yearning in his voice. 'Why, of course he will, Mr. Schumann,' I said.
+'For all his exalted position, my brother is kindliness itself. Of
+course he'll come.' 'If I could only think so!' he said with a gulp. 'If
+I could only think so. But you know what these managers are. A thousand
+calls on their time. They get brooding on their fur coats and forget
+everything else.' 'Have no fear, Mr. Schumann,' I said. 'Fillmore
+Nicholas is a man of his word.'"
+
+She would have been willing, for she was a girl who never believed in
+sparing herself where it was a question of entertaining her nearest and
+dearest, to continue the dialogue, but Fillmore was already moving down
+the car, his rigid back a silent protest against sisterly levity. Sally
+watched him disappear, then picked up a magazine and began to read.
+
+She had just finished tracking a story of gripping interest through a
+jungle of advertisements, only to find that it was in two parts, of
+which the one she was reading was the first, when a voice spoke.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Nicholas?"
+
+Into the seat before her, recently released from the weight of the
+coming manager, Bruce Carmyle of all people in the world insinuated
+himself with that well-bred air of deferential restraint which never
+left him.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally was considerably startled.  Everybody travels nowadays, of
+course, and there is nothing really remarkable in finding a man in
+America whom you had supposed to be in Europe: but nevertheless she was
+conscious of a dream-like sensation, as though the clock had been turned
+back and a chapter of her life reopened which she had thought closed for
+ever.
+
+"Mr. Carmyle!" she cried.
+
+If Sally had been constantly in Bruce Carmyle's thoughts since they had
+parted on the Paris express, Mr. Carmyle had been very little in
+Sally's--so little, indeed, that she had had to search her memory for a
+moment before she identified him.
+
+"We're always meeting on trains, aren't we?" she went on, her composure
+returning. "I never expected to see you in America."
+
+"I came over."
+
+Sally was tempted to reply that she gathered that, but a sudden
+embarrassment curbed her tongue. She had just remembered that at their
+last meeting she had been abominably rude to this man. She was never
+rude to anyone, without subsequent remorse. She contented herself with a
+tame "Yes."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, "it is a good many years since I have taken a
+real holiday. My doctor seemed to think I was a trifle run down. It
+seemed a good opportunity to visit America. Everybody," said Mr. Carmyle
+oracularly, endeavouring, as he had often done since his ship had left
+England, to persuade himself that his object in making the trip had not
+been merely to renew his acquaintance with Sally, "everybody ought to
+visit America at least once. It is part of one's education."
+
+"And what are your impressions of our glorious country?" said Sally
+rallying.
+
+Mr. Carmyle seemed glad of the opportunity of lecturing on an impersonal
+subject. He, too, though his face had shown no trace of it, had been
+embarrassed in the opening stages of the conversation. The sound of his
+voice restored him.
+
+"I have been visiting Chicago," he said after a brief travelogue.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"A wonderful city."
+
+"I've never seen it.  I've come from Detroit."
+
+"Yes, I heard you were in Detroit."
+
+Sally's eyes opened.
+
+"You heard I was in Detroit? Good gracious! How?"
+
+"I--ah--called at your New York address and made inquiries," said Mr.
+Carmyle a little awkwardly.
+
+"But how did you know where I lived?"
+
+"My cousin--er--Lancelot told me."
+
+Sally was silent for a moment.  She had much the same feeling that comes
+to the man in the detective story who realizes that he is being
+shadowed. Even if this almost complete stranger had not actually come
+to America in direct pursuit of her, there was no disguising the fact
+that he evidently found her an object of considerable interest. It was
+a compliment, but Sally was not at all sure that she liked it. Bruce
+Carmyle meant nothing to her, and it was rather disturbing to find that
+she was apparently of great importance to him. She seized on the mention
+of Ginger as a lever for diverting the conversation from its present too
+intimate course.
+
+"How is Mr. Kemp?" she asked.
+
+Mr. Carmyle's dark face seemed to become a trifle darker.
+
+"We have had no news of him," he said shortly.
+
+"No news? How do you mean? You speak as though he had disappeared."
+
+"He has disappeared!"
+
+"Good heavens! When?"
+
+"Shortly after I saw you last."
+
+"Disappeared!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle frowned.  Sally, watching him, found her antipathy stirring
+again. There was something about this man which she had disliked
+instinctively from the first, a sort of hardness.
+
+"But where has he gone to?"
+
+"I don't know." Mr. Carmyle frowned again.  The subject of Ginger was
+plainly a sore one. "And I don't want to know," he went on heatedly, a
+dull flush rising in the cheeks which Sally was sure he had to shave
+twice a day. "I don't care to know. The Family have washed their hands
+of him. For the future he may look after himself as best he can. I
+believe he is off his head."
+
+Sally's rebellious temper was well ablaze now, but she fought it down.
+She would dearly have loved to give battle to Mr. Carmyle--it was odd,
+she felt, how she seemed to have constituted herself Ginger's champion
+and protector--but she perceived that, if she wished, as she did, to
+hear more of her red-headed friend, he must be humoured and
+conciliated.
+
+"But what happened? What was all the trouble about?"
+
+Mr. Carmyle's eyebrows met.
+
+"He--insulted his uncle.  His uncle Donald.  He insulted him--grossly.
+The one man in the world he should have made a point of--er--"
+
+"Keeping in with?"
+
+"Yes.  His future depended upon him."
+
+"But what did he do?" cried Sally, trying hard to keep a thoroughly
+reprehensible joy out of her voice.
+
+"I have heard no details.  My uncle is reticent as to what actually took
+place. He invited Lancelot to dinner to discuss his plans, and it
+appears that Lancelot--defied him. Defied him! He was rude and
+insulting. My uncle refuses to have anything more to do with him.
+Apparently the young fool managed to win some money at the tables at
+Roville, and this seems to have turned his head completely. My uncle
+insists that he is mad. I agree with him. Since the night of that dinner
+nothing has been heard of Lancelot."
+
+Mr. Carmyle broke off to brood once more, and before Sally could speak
+the impressive bulk of Fillmore loomed up in the aisle beside them.
+Explanations seemed to Fillmore to be in order. He cast a questioning
+glance at the mysterious stranger, who, in addition to being in
+conversation with his sister, had collared his seat.
+
+"Oh, hullo, Fill," said Sally.  "Fillmore, this is Mr. Carmyle.  We met
+abroad. My brother Fillmore, Mr. Carmyle."
+
+Proper introduction having been thus effected, Fillmore approved of Mr.
+Carmyle. His air of being someone in particular appealed to him.
+
+"Strange you meeting again like this," he said affably.
+
+The porter, who had been making up berths along the car, was now
+hovering expectantly in the offing.
+
+"You two had better go into the smoking room," suggested Sally.  "I'm
+going to bed."
+
+She wanted to be alone, to think.  Mr. Carmyle's tale of a roused and
+revolting Ginger had stirred her.
+
+The two men went off to the smoking-room, and Sally found an empty seat
+and sat down to wait for her berth to be made up. She was aglow with a
+curious exhilaration. So Ginger had taken her advice! Excellent Ginger!
+She felt proud of him. She also had that feeling of complacency,
+amounting almost to sinful pride, which comes to those who give advice
+and find it acted upon. She had the emotions of a creator. After all,
+had she not created this new Ginger? It was she who had stirred him up.
+It was she who had unleashed him. She had changed him from a meek
+dependent of the Family to a ravening creature, who went about the place
+insulting uncles.
+
+It was a feat, there was no denying it.  It was something attempted,
+something done: and by all the rules laid down by the poet it should,
+therefore, have earned a night's repose. Yet, Sally, jolted by the
+train, which towards the small hours seemed to be trying out some new
+buck-and-wing steps of its own invention, slept ill, and presently, as
+she lay awake, there came to her bedside the Spectre of Doubt, gaunt and
+questioning. Had she, after all, wrought so well? Had she been wise in
+tampering with this young man's life?
+
+"What about it?" said the Spectre of Doubt.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Daylight brought no comforting answer to the question.  Breakfast failed
+to manufacture an easy mind. Sally got off the train, at the Grand
+Central station in a state of remorseful concern. She declined the offer
+of Mr. Carmyle to drive her to the boarding-house, and started to walk
+there, hoping that the crisp morning air would effect a cure.
+
+She wondered now how she could ever have looked with approval on her
+rash act. She wondered what demon of interference and meddling had
+possessed her, to make her blunder into people's lives, upsetting them.
+She wondered that she was allowed to go around loose. She was nothing
+more nor less than a menace to society. Here was an estimable young man,
+obviously the sort of young man who would always have to be assisted
+through life by his relatives, and she had deliberately egged him on to
+wreck his prospects. She blushed hotly as she remembered that mad
+wireless she had sent him from the boat.
+
+Miserable Ginger! She pictured him, his little stock of money gone,
+wandering foot-sore about London, seeking in vain for work; forcing
+himself to call on Uncle Donald; being thrown down the front steps by
+haughty footmen; sleeping on the Embankment; gazing into the dark waters
+of the Thames with the stare of hopelessness; climbing to the parapet
+and...
+
+"Ugh!" said Sally.
+
+She had arrived at the door of the boarding-house, and Mrs. Meecher was
+regarding her with welcoming eyes, little knowing that to all practical
+intents and purposes she had slain in his prime a red-headed young man
+of amiable manners and--when not ill-advised by meddling, muddling
+females--of excellent behaviour.
+
+Mrs. Meecher was friendly and garrulous.  Variety, the journal which,
+next to the dog Toto, was the thing she loved best in the world, had
+informed her on the Friday morning that Mr. Foster's play had got over
+big in Detroit, and that Miss Doland had made every kind of hit. It was
+not often that the old alumni of the boarding-house forced their way
+after this fashion into the Hall of Fame, and, according to Mrs.
+Meecher, the establishment was ringing with the news. That blue ribbon
+round Toto's neck was worn in honour of the triumph. There was also,
+though you could not see it, a chicken dinner in Toto's interior, by way
+of further celebration.
+
+And was it true that Mr. Fillmore had bought the piece? A great man, was
+Mrs. Meecher's verdict. Mr. Faucitt had always said so...
+
+"Oh, how is Mr. Faucitt?" Sally asked, reproaching herself for having
+allowed the pressure of other matters to drive all thoughts of her late
+patient from her mind.
+
+"He's gone," said Mrs. Meecher with such relish that to Sally, in her
+morbid condition, the words had only one meaning. She turned white and
+clutched at the banisters.
+
+"Gone!"
+
+"To England," added Mrs. Meecher.  Sally was vastly relieved.
+
+"Oh, I thought you meant..."
+
+"Oh no, not that." Mrs. Meecher sighed, for she had been a little
+disappointed in the old gentleman, who started out as such a promising
+invalid, only to fall away into the dullness of robust health once more.
+"He's well enough. I never seen anybody better. You'd think," said Mrs.
+Meecher, bearing bearing up with difficulty under her grievance, "you'd
+think this here new Spanish influenza was a sort of a tonic or somep'n,
+the way he looks now. Of course," she added, trying to find
+justification for a respected lodger, "he's had good news. His brother's
+dead."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Not, I don't mean, that that was good news, far from it, though, come
+to think of it, all flesh is as grass and we all got to be prepared for
+somep'n of the sort breaking loose...but it seems this here new brother of
+his--I didn't know he'd a brother, and I don't suppose you knew he had a
+brother. Men are secretive, ain't they!--this brother of his has left
+him a parcel of money, and Mr. Faucitt he had to get on the Wednesday
+boat quick as he could and go right over to the other side to look after
+things. Wind up the estate, I believe they call it. Left in a awful
+hurry, he did. Sent his love to you and said he'd write. Funny him
+having a brother, now, wasn't it? Not," said Mrs. Meecher, at heart a
+reasonable woman, "that folks don't have brothers. I got two myself, one
+in Portland, Oregon, and the other goodness knows where he is. But what
+I'm trying to say..."
+
+Sally disengaged herself, and went up to her room.  For a brief while
+the excitement which comes of hearing good news about those of whom we
+are fond acted as a stimulant, and she felt almost cheerful. Dear old
+Mr. Faucitt. She was sorry for his brother, of course, though she had
+never had the pleasure of his acquaintance and had only just heard that
+he had ever existed; but it was nice to think that her old friend's
+remaining years would be years of affluence.
+
+Presently, however, she found her thoughts wandering back into their
+melancholy groove. She threw herself wearily on the bed. She was tired
+after her bad night.
+
+But she could not sleep.  Remorse kept her awake.  Besides, she could
+hear Mrs. Meecher prowling disturbingly about the house, apparently in
+search of someone, her progress indicated by creaking boards and the
+strenuous yapping of Toto.
+
+Sally turned restlessly, and, having turned remained for a long instant
+transfixed and rigid. She had seen something, and what she had seen was
+enough to surprise any girl in the privacy of her bedroom. From
+underneath the bed there peeped coyly forth an undeniably masculine shoe
+and six inches of a grey trouser-leg.
+
+Sally bounded to the floor.  She was a girl of courage, and she meant to
+probe this matter thoroughly.
+
+"What are you doing under my bed?"
+
+The question was a reasonable one, and evidently seemed to the intruder
+to deserve an answer. There was a muffled sneeze, and he began to crawl
+out.
+
+The shoe came first.  Then the legs.  Then a sturdy body in a dusty
+coat. And finally there flashed on Sally's fascinated gaze a head of so
+nearly the maximum redness that it could only belong to one person in
+the world.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+Mr. Lancelot Kemp, on all fours, blinked up at her.
+
+"Oh, hullo!" he said.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+GINGER BECOMES A RIGHT-HAND MAN
+
+
+
+It was not till she saw him actually standing there before her with his
+hair rumpled and a large smut on the tip of his nose, that Sally really
+understood how profoundly troubled she had been about this young man,
+and how vivid had been that vision of him bobbing about on the waters of
+the Thames, a cold and unappreciated corpse. She was a girl of keen
+imagination, and she had allowed her imagination to riot unchecked.
+Astonishment, therefore, at the extraordinary fact of his being there
+was for the moment thrust aside by relief. Never before in her life had
+she experienced such an overwhelming rush of exhilaration. She flung
+herself into a chair and burst into a screech of laughter which even to
+her own ears sounded strange. It struck Ginger as hysterical.
+
+"I say, you know!" said Ginger, as the merriment showed no signs of
+abating. Ginger was concerned. Nasty shock for a girl, finding blighters
+under her bed.
+
+Sally sat up, gurgling, and wiped her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I am glad to see you," she gasped.
+
+"No, really?" said Ginger, gratified.  "That's fine." It occurred to him
+that some sort of apology would be a graceful act. "I say, you know,
+awfully sorry. About barging in here, I mean. Never dreamed it was your
+room. Unoccupied, I thought."
+
+"Don't mention it.  I ought not to have disturbed you.  You were having
+a nice sleep, of course. Do you always sleep on the floor?"
+
+"It was like this..."
+
+"Of course, if you're wearing it for ornament, as a sort of
+beauty-spot," said Sally, "all right. But in case you don't know, you've
+a smut on your nose."
+
+"Oh, my aunt! Not really?"
+
+"Now would I deceive you on an important point like that?"
+
+"Do you mind if I have a look in the glass?"
+
+"Certainly, if you can stand it."
+
+Ginger moved hurriedly to the dressing-table.
+
+"You're perfectly right," he announced, applying his handkerchief.
+
+"I thought I was.  I'm very quick at noticing things."
+
+"My hair's a bit rumpled, too."
+
+"Very much so."
+
+"You take my tis," said Ginger, earnestly, "and never lie about under
+beds. There's nothing in it."
+
+"That reminds me.  You won't be offended if I asked you something?"
+
+"No, no.  Go ahead."
+
+"It's rather an impertinent question.  You may resent it."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Well, then, what were you doing under my bed?"
+
+"Oh, under your bed?"
+
+"Yes.  Under my bed.  This.  It's a bed, you know.  Mine.  My bed.  You
+were under it. Why? Or putting it another way, why were you under my
+bed?"
+
+"I was hiding."
+
+"Playing hide-and-seek? That explains it."
+
+"Mrs. What's-her-name--Beecher--Meecher--was after me.
+
+Sally shook her head disapprovingly.
+
+"You mustn't encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes.  It
+unsettles her."
+
+Ginger passed an agitated hand over his forehead.
+
+"It's like this..."
+
+"I hate to keep criticizing your appearance," said Sally, "and
+personally I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you
+put about a pound of dust on it. Your hands are probably grubby."
+
+Ginger inspected them.
+
+"They are!"
+
+"Why not make a really good job of it and have a wash?"
+
+"Do you mind?"
+
+"I'd prefer it."
+
+"Thanks awfully.  I mean to say it's your basin, you know, and all that.
+What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Touching the matter of soap..."
+
+"Use mine.  We Americans are famous for our hospitality."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"The towel is on your right."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+"And I've a clothes brush in my bag."
+
+"Thanks awfully."
+
+Splashing followed like a sea-lion taking a dip.  "Now, then," said
+Sally, "why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+A careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger's face.  "I say, you
+know, that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads, what! Scares
+me! Word was brought that she was on the prowl, so it seemed to me a
+judicious move to take cover till she sort of blew over. If she'd found
+me, she'd have made me take that dog of hers for a walk."
+
+"Toto?"
+
+"Toto.  You know," said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, "no dog's
+got a right to be a dog like that. I don't suppose there's anyone keener
+on dogs than I am, but a thing like a woolly rat." He shuddered
+slightly. "Well, one hates to be seen about with it in the public
+streets."
+
+"Why couldn't you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to take
+Toto out?"
+
+"Ah! There you rather touch the spot.  You see, the fact of the matter
+is, I'm a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard to
+take what you might call a firm stand."
+
+"But how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday
+before last and you weren't in the place then. You can't have been here
+more than a week."
+
+"I've been here just a week.  That's the week I'm behind with."
+
+"But why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville."
+
+"Well, the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night
+and lost a goodish bit of what I'd won. And, somehow or another, when I
+got to America, the stuff seemed to slip away."
+
+"What made you come to America at all?" said Sally, asking the question
+which, she felt, any sensible person would have asked at the opening of
+the conversation.
+
+One of his familiar blushes raced over Ginger's face.  "Oh, I thought I
+would. Land of opportunity, you know."
+
+"Have you managed to find any of the opportunities yet?"
+
+"Well, I have got a job of sorts, I'm a waiter at a rummy little place
+on Second Avenue. The salary isn't big, but I'd have wangled enough out
+of it to pay last week's rent, only they docked me a goodish bit for
+breaking plates and what not. The fact is, I'm making rather a hash of
+it."
+
+"Oh, Ginger! You oughtn't to be a waiter!"
+
+"That's what the boss seems to think."
+
+"I mean, you ought to be doing something ever so much better."
+
+"But what? You've no notion how well all these blighters here seem to be
+able to get along without my help. I've tramped all over the place,
+offering my services, but they all say they'll try to carry on as they
+are."
+
+Sally reflected.
+
+"I know!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'll make Fillmore give you a job.  I wonder I didn't think of it
+before."
+
+"Fillmore?"
+
+"My brother.  Yes, he'll be able to use you."
+
+"What as?"
+
+Sally considered.
+
+"As a--as a--oh, as his right-hand man."
+
+"Does he want a right-hand man?"
+
+"Sure to.  He's a young fellow trying to get along.  Sure to want a
+right-hand man."
+
+"'M yes," said Ginger reflectively.  "Of course, I've never been a
+right-hand man, you know."
+
+"Oh, you'd pick it up.  I'll take you round to him now.  He's staying at
+the Astor."
+
+"There's just one thing," said Ginger.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"I might make a hash of it."
+
+"Heavens, Ginger! There must be something in this world that you
+wouldn't make a hash of. Don't stand arguing any longer. Are you dry?
+and clean? Very well, then. Let's be off."
+
+"Right ho."
+
+Ginger took a step towards the door, then paused, rigid, with one leg in
+the air, as though some spell had been cast upon him. From the passage
+outside there had sounded a shrill yapping. Ginger looked at Sally. Then
+he looked--longingly--at the bed.
+
+"Don't be such a coward," said Sally, severely.
+
+"Yes, but..."
+
+"How much do you owe Mrs. Meecher?"
+
+"Round about twelve dollars, I think it is."
+
+"I'll pay her."
+
+Ginger flushed awkwardly.
+
+"No, I'm hanged if you will! I mean," he stammered, "it's frightfully
+good of you and all that, and I can't tell you how grateful I am, but
+honestly, I couldn't..."
+
+Sally did not press the point.  She liked him the better for a rugged
+independence, which in the days of his impecuniousness her brother
+Fillmore had never dreamed of exhibiting.
+
+"Very well," she said.  "Have it your own way.  Proud.  That's me all
+over, Mabel. Ginger!" She broke off sharply. "Pull yourself together.
+Where is your manly spirit? I'd be ashamed to be such a coward."
+
+"Awfully sorry, but, honestly, that woolly dog..."
+
+"Never mind the dog.  I'll see you through."
+
+They came out into the passage almost on top of Toto, who was stalking
+phantom rats. Mrs. Meecher was manoeuvring in the background. Her face
+lit up grimly at the sight of Ginger.
+
+"Mister Kemp!  I been looking for you."
+
+Sally intervened brightly.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Meecher," she said, shepherding her young charge through the
+danger zone, "I was so surprised to meet Mr. Kemp here. He is a great
+friend of mine. We met in France. We're going off now to have a long
+talk about old times, and then I'm taking him to see my brother..."
+
+"Toto..."
+
+"Dear little thing! You ought to take him for a walk," said Sally.
+"It's a lovely day. Mr. Kemp was saying just now that he would have
+liked to take him, but we're rather in a hurry and shall probably have
+to get into a taxi. You've no idea how busy my brother is just now. If
+we're late, he'll never forgive us."
+
+She passed on down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Meecher dissatisfied but
+irresolute. There was something about Sally which even in her
+pre-wealthy days had always baffled Mrs. Meecher and cramped her style,
+and now that she was rich and independent she inspired in the chatelaine
+of the boarding-house an emotion which was almost awe. The front door
+had closed before Mrs. Meecher had collected her faculties; and Ginger,
+pausing on the sidewalk, drew a long breath.
+
+"You know, you're wonderful!" he said, regarding Sally with unconcealed
+admiration.
+
+She accepted the compliment composedly.
+
+"Now we'll go and hunt up Fillmore," she said.  "But there's no need to
+hurry, of course, really. We'll go for a walk first, and then call at
+the Astor and make him give us lunch. I want to hear all about you. I've
+heard something already. I met your cousin, Mr. Carmyle. He was on the
+train coming from Detroit. Did you know that he was in America?"
+
+"No, I've--er--rather lost touch with the Family."
+
+"So I gathered from Mr. Carmyle.  And I feel hideously responsible.  It
+was all through me that all this happened."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Of course it was.  I made you what you are to-day--I hope I'm
+satisfied--I dragged and dragged you down until the soul within you
+died, so to speak. I know perfectly well that you wouldn't have dreamed
+of savaging the Family as you seem to have done if it hadn't been for
+what I said to you at Roville. Ginger, tell me, what did happen? I'm
+dying to know. Mr. Carmyle said you insulted your uncle!"
+
+"Donald.  Yes, we did have a bit of a scrap, as a matter of fact.  He
+made me go out to dinner with him and we--er--sort of disagreed. To
+start with, he wanted me to apologize to old Scrymgeour, and I rather
+gave it a miss."
+
+"Noble fellow!"
+
+"Scrymgeour?"
+
+"No, silly! You."
+
+"Oh, ah!" Ginger blushed.  "And then there was all that about the soup,
+you know."
+
+"How do you mean, 'all that about the soup'? What about the soup? What
+soup?"
+
+"Well, things sort of hotted up a bit when the soup arrived."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"I mean, the trouble seemed to start, as it were, when the waiter had
+finished ladling out the mulligatawny. Thick soup, you know."
+
+"I know mulligatawny is a thick soup.  Yes?"
+
+"Well, my old uncle--I'm not blaming him, don't you know--more his
+misfortune than his fault--I can see that now--but he's got a heavy
+moustache. Like a walrus, rather, and he's a bit apt to inhale the stuff
+through it. And I--well, I asked him not to. It was just a suggestion,
+you know. He cut up fairly rough, and by the time the fish came round we
+were more or less down on the mat chewing holes in one another. My
+fault, probably. I wasn't feeling particularly well-disposed towards the
+Family that night. I'd just had a talk with Bruce--my cousin, you
+know--in Piccadilly, and that had rather got the wind up me. Bruce
+always seems to get on my nerves a bit somehow and--Uncle Donald asking
+me to dinner and all that. By the way, did you get the books?"
+
+"What books?"
+
+"Bruce said he wanted to send you some books.  That was why I gave him
+your address." Sally stared.
+
+"He never sent me any books."
+
+"Well, he said he was going to, and I had to tell him where to send
+them."
+
+Sally walked on, a little thoughtfully.  She was not a vain girl, but it
+was impossible not to perceive in the light of this fresh evidence that
+Mr. Carmyle had made a journey of three thousand miles with the sole
+object of renewing his acquaintance with her. It did not matter, of
+course, but it was vaguely disturbing. No girl cares to be dogged by a
+man she rather dislikes.
+
+"Go on telling me about your uncle," she said.
+
+"Well, there's not much more to tell.  I'd happened to get that wireless
+of yours just before I started out to dinner with him, and I was more or
+less feeling that I wasn't going to stand any rot from the Family. I'd
+got to the fish course, hadn't I? Well, we managed to get through that
+somehow, but we didn't survive the fillet steak. One thing seemed to
+lead to another, and the show sort of bust up. He called me a good many
+things, and I got a bit fed-up, and finally I told him I hadn't any more
+use for the Family and was going to start out on my own. And--well, I
+did, don't you know. And here I am."
+
+Sally listened to this saga breathlessly.  More than ever did she feel
+responsible for her young protégé, and any faint qualms which she had
+entertained as to the wisdom of transferring practically the whole of
+her patrimony to the care of so erratic a financier as her brother
+vanished. It was her plain duty to see that Ginger was started well in
+the race of life, and Fillmore was going to come in uncommonly handy.
+
+"We'll go to the Astor now," she said, "and I'll introduce you to
+Fillmore. He's a theatrical manager and he's sure to have something for
+you."
+
+"It's awfully good of you to bother about me."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "I regard you as a grandson.  Hail that cab, will
+you?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+SALLY IN THE SHADOWS
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+It seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger
+Kemp that a sort of golden age had set in. On all the frontiers of her
+little kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each morning
+in a world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most captious
+pessimist could hardly have found anything in it to criticize.
+
+True, Gerald was still a thousand miles away.  Going to Chicago to
+superintend the opening of "The Primrose Way"; for Fillmore had acceded
+to his friend Ike's suggestion in the matter of producing it first in
+Chicago, and he had been called in by a distracted manager to revise the
+work of a brother dramatist, whose comedy was in difficulties at one of
+the theatres in that city; and this meant he would have to remain on the
+spot for some time to come. It was disappointing, for Sally had been
+looking forward to having him back in New York in a few days; but she
+refused to allow herself to be depressed. Life as a whole was much too
+satisfactory for that. Life indeed, in every other respect, seemed
+perfect. Fillmore was going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; she
+had found an apartment; her new hat suited her; and "The Primrose Way"
+was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore's account,
+was paying little attention to anything except "The Primrose Way."
+National problems had ceased to interest the citizens. Local problems
+left them cold. Their minds were riveted to the exclusion of all else on
+the problem of how to secure seats. The production of the piece,
+according to Fillmore, had been the most terrific experience that had
+come to stir Chicago since the great fire.
+
+Of all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally's
+thinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger's future had been
+solved. Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore
+Nicholas)--Fillmore would have made the title longer, only that was all
+that would go on the brass plate--and was to be found daily in the outer
+office, his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening
+papers. What exactly he was, even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he felt
+like the man at the wheel, sometimes like a glorified office boy, and
+not so very glorified at that. For the most part he had to prevent the
+mob rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in the
+inner office pondering great schemes.
+
+But, though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in
+Ginger's mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchange
+for the fifty dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertain
+about his gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabled
+him to do it. He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadays
+they were meeting frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish her
+new apartment. In this task, he spared no efforts. He said that it kept
+him in condition.
+
+"And what I mean to say is," said Ginger, pausing in the act of carrying
+a massive easy chair to the third spot which Sally had selected in the
+last ten minutes, "if I didn't sweat about a bit and help you after the
+way you got me that job..."
+
+"Ginger, desist," said Sally.
+
+"Yes, but honestly..."
+
+"If you don't stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the next
+room."
+
+"Shall I?" Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and took a new grip.
+"Anything you say."
+
+"Silly! Of course not.  The only other rooms are my bedroom, the
+bathroom and the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great lumbering
+chair in them for? All the same, I believe the first we chose was the
+best."
+
+"Back she goes, then, what?"
+
+Sally reflected frowningly.  This business of setting up house was
+causing her much thought.
+
+"No," she decided.  "By the window is better." She looked at him
+remorsefully. "I'm giving you a lot of trouble."
+
+"Trouble!" Ginger, accompanied by a chair, staggered across the room.
+"The way I look at it is this." He wiped a bead of perspiration from his
+freckled forehead. "You got me that job, and..."
+
+"Stop!"
+
+"Right ho... Still, you did, you know."
+
+Sally sat down in the armchair and stretched herself.  Watching Ginger
+work had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly.
+It was certainly beginning to look cosy. The pictures were up, the
+carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order. For almost the first
+time in her life she had the restful sensation of being at home. She had
+always longed, during the past three years of boarding-house existence,
+for a settled abode, a place where she could lock the door on herself
+and be alone. The apartment was small, but it was undeniably a haven.
+She looked about her and could see no flaw in it... except... She had a
+sudden sense of something missing.
+
+"Hullo!" she said.  "Where's that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
+the mantelpiece yesterday."
+
+His exertions seemed to have brought the blood to Ginger's face.  He was
+a rich red. He inspected the mantelpiece narrowly.
+
+"No.  No photograph here."
+
+"I know there isn't.  But it was there yesterday.  Or was it? I know I
+meant to put it there. Perhaps I forgot. It's the most beautiful thing
+you ever saw. Not a bit like me; but what of that? They touch 'em up in
+the dark-room, you know. I value it because it looks the way I should
+like to look if I could."
+
+"I've never had a beautiful photograph taken of myself," said Ginger,
+solemnly, with gentle regret.
+
+"Cheer up!"
+
+"Oh, I don't mind.  I only mentioned..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "pardon my interrupting your remarks, which I know
+are valuable, but this chair is--not--right! It ought to be where it
+was at the beginning. Could you give your imitation of a pack-mule just
+once more? And after that I'll make you some tea. If there's any tea--
+or milk--or cups."
+
+"There are cups all right.  I know, because I smashed two the day before
+yesterday. I'll nip round the corner for some milk, shall I?"
+
+"Yes, please nip.  All this hard work has taken it out of me terribly."
+
+Over the tea-table Sally became inquisitive.
+
+"What I can't understand about this job of yours.  Ginger--which as you
+are just about to observe, I was noble enough to secure for you--is the
+amount of leisure that seems to go with it. How is it that you are able
+to spend your valuable time--Fillmore's valuable time, rather--juggling
+with my furniture every day?"
+
+"Oh, I can usually get off."
+
+"But oughtn't you to be at your post doing--whatever it is you do? What
+do you do?"
+
+Ginger stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.
+
+"Well, I sort of mess about, you know." He pondered. "I interview
+divers blighters and tell 'em your brother is out and take their
+names and addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing."
+
+"Does Fillmore consult you much?"
+
+"He lets me read some of the plays that are sent in.  Awful tosh most of
+them. Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an evening."
+
+"As a treat?"
+
+"To see some special act, you know.  To report on it.  In case he might
+want to use it for this revue of his."
+
+"Which revue?"
+
+"Didn't you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather.  A whacking
+big affair. Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing."
+
+"But--my goodness!" Sally was alarmed.  It was just like Fillmore, she
+felt, to go branching out into these expensive schemes when he ought to
+be moving warily and trying to consolidate the small success he had had.
+All his life he had thought in millions where the prudent man would have
+been content with hundreds. An inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled
+eternally within him. "That's rather ambitious," she said.
+
+"Yes.  Ambitious sort of cove, your brother.  Quite the Napoleon."
+
+"I shall have to talk to him," said Sally decidedly.  She was annoyed
+with Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
+peaceful and happy and prosperous and no anxiety anywhere, till he had
+spoiled things. Now she would have to start worrying again.
+
+"Of course," argued Ginger, "there's money in revues.  Over in London
+fellows make pots out of them."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It won't do," she said.  "And I'll tell you another thing that won't
+do. This armchair. Of course it ought to be over by the window. You can
+see that yourself, can't you."
+
+"Absolutely!" said Ginger, patiently preparing for action once more.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Sally's anxiety with regard to her ebullient brother was not lessened by
+the receipt shortly afterwards of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
+
+Have you been feeding Fillmore meat?
+
+the telegram ran: and, while Sally could not have claimed that she
+completely understood it, there was a sinister suggestion about the
+message which decided her to wait no longer before making
+investigations. She tore herself away from the joys of furnishing and
+went round to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical
+Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas) without delay.
+
+Ginger, she discovered on arrival, was absent from his customary post,
+his place in the outer office being taken by a lad of tender years and
+pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a proud reserve on hearing
+Sally's name, and told her to walk right in. Sally walked right in, and
+found Fillmore with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared
+to be costume-designs.
+
+"Ah, Sally!" he said in the distrait, tired voice which speaks of vast
+preoccupations. Prosperity was still putting in its silent, deadly work
+on the Hope of the American Theatre. What, even at as late an epoch as
+the return from Detroit, had been merely a smooth fullness around the
+angle of the jaw was now frankly and without disguise a double chin. He
+was wearing a new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. "I am rather busy,"
+he went on. "Always glad to see you, but I am rather busy. I have a
+hundred things to attend to."
+
+"Well, attend to me.  That'll only make a hundred and one.  Fill, what's
+all this I hear about a revue?"
+
+Fillmore looked as like a small boy caught in the act of stealing jam as
+it is possible for a great theatrical manager to look. He had been
+wondering in his darker moments what Sally would say about that project
+when she heard of it, and he had hoped that she would not hear of it
+until all the preparations were so complete that interference would be
+impossible. He was extremely fond of Sally, but there was, he knew, a
+lamentable vein of caution in her make-up which might lead her to
+criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry on if women are buzzing
+round criticizing all the time? He picked up a pen and put it down;
+buttoned his waistcoat and unbuttoned it; and scratched his ear with one
+of the costume-designs.
+
+"Oh yes, the revue!"
+
+"It's no good saying 'Oh yes'! You know perfectly well it's a crazy
+idea."
+
+"Really... these business matters... this interference..."
+
+"I don't want to run your affairs for you, Fill, but that money of mine
+does make me a sort of partner, I suppose, and I think I have a right to
+raise a loud yell of agony when I see you risking it on a..."
+
+"Pardon me," said Fillmore loftily, looking happier.  "Let me explain.
+Women never understand business matters. Your money is tied up
+exclusively in 'The Primrose Way,' which, as you know, is a tremendous
+success. You have nothing whatever to worry about as regards any new
+production I may make."
+
+"I'm not worrying about the money.  I'm worrying about you."
+
+A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
+
+"Don't be alarmed about me.  I'm all right."
+
+"You aren't all right.  You've no business, when you've only just got
+started as a manager, to be rushing into an enormous production like
+this. You can't afford it."
+
+"My dear child, as I said before, women cannot understand these things.
+A man in my position can always command money for a new venture."
+
+"Do you mean to say you have found somebody silly enough to put up
+money?"
+
+"Certainly.  I don't know that there is any secret about it.  Your
+friend, Mr. Carmyle, has taken an interest in some of my forthcoming
+productions."
+
+"What!" Sally had been disturbed before, but she was aghast now.
+
+This was something she had never anticipated.  Bruce Carmyle seemed to
+be creeping into her life like an advancing tide. There appeared to be
+no eluding him. Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do
+nothing but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible.
+
+Fillmore misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice.
+
+"It's quite all right," he assured her.  "He's a very rich man.  Large
+private means, besides his big income. Even if anything goes wrong..."
+
+"It isn't that.  It's..."
+
+The hopelessness of explaining to Fillmore stopped Sally.  And while she
+was chafing at this new complication which had come to upset the orderly
+routine of her life there was an outburst of voices in the other office.
+Ginger's understudy seemed to be endeavouring to convince somebody that
+the Big Chief was engaged and not to be intruded upon. In this he was
+unsuccessful, for the door opened tempestuously and Miss Winch sailed
+in.
+
+"Fillmore, you poor nut," said Miss Winch, for though she might wrap up
+her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications, when
+it came to the spoken word she was directness itself, "stop picking
+straws in your hair and listen to me. You're dippy!"
+
+The last time Sally had seen Fillmore's fiancée, she had been impressed
+by her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch, in Detroit, had seemed a girl
+whom nothing could ruffle. That she had lapsed now from this serene
+placidity, struck Sally as ominous. Slightly though she knew her, she
+felt that it could be no ordinary happening that had so animated her
+sister-in-law-to-be.
+
+"Ah! Here you are!" said Fillmore.  He had started to his feet
+indignantly at the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in its den,
+but calm had returned when he saw who the intruder was.
+
+"Yes, here I am!" Miss Winch dropped despairingly into a swivel-chair,
+and endeavoured to restore herself with a stick of chewing-gum.
+"Fillmore, darling, you're the sweetest thing on earth, and I love you,
+but on present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale and
+they'd give you the royal suite."
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"What do you think?" demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sally.
+
+"I've just been telling him," said Sally, welcoming this ally, "I think
+it's absurd at this stage of things for him to put on an enormous
+revue..."
+
+"Revue?" Miss Winch stopped in the act of gnawing her gum.  "What
+revue?" She flung up her arms. "I shall have to swallow this gum," she
+said. "You can't chew with your head going round. Are you putting on a
+revue too?"
+
+Fillmore was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat.  He had a hounded
+look.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," he replied in a tone of some feverishness.  "I
+wish you girls would leave me to manage..."
+
+"Dippy!" said Miss Winch once more.  "Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot,
+Matteawan." She swivelled round to Sally again. "Say, listen! This boy
+must be stopped. We must form a gang in his best interests and get him
+put away. What do you think he proposes doing? I'll give you three
+guesses. Oh, what's the use? You'd never hit it. This poor wandering lad
+has got it all fixed up to star me--me--in a new show!"
+
+Fillmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved it
+protestingly.
+
+"I have used my own judgment..."
+
+"Yes, sir!" proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption.
+"That's what he's planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm
+sitting peacefully in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a few
+cents' worth of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper, when the
+telephone rings. Gentleman below would like to see me. Oh, ask him to
+wait. Business of flinging on a few clothes. Down in elevator. Bright
+sunrise effects in lobby."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?"
+
+"The gentleman had a head of red hair which had to be seen to be
+believed," explained Miss Winch. "Lit up the lobby. Management had
+switched off all the electrics for sake of economy. An Englishman he
+was. Nice fellow. Named Kemp."
+
+"Oh, is Ginger in Chicago?" said Sally.  "I wondered why he wasn't on
+his little chair in the outer office.
+
+"I sent Kemp to Chicago," said Fillmore, "to have a look at the show.
+It is my policy, if I am unable to pay periodical visits myself, to send
+a representative..."
+
+"Save it up for the long winter evenings," advised Miss Winch, cutting
+in on this statement of managerial tactics. "Mr. Kemp may have been
+there to look at the show, but his chief reason for coming was to tell
+me to beat it back to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted
+me on the spot, he told me, so that I could sit around in this office
+here, interviewing my supporting company. Me! Can you or can you not,"
+inquired Miss Winch frankly, "tie it?"
+
+"Well..." Sally hesitated.
+
+"Don't say it! I know it just as well as you do.  It's too sad for
+words."
+
+"You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys," said Fillmore
+reproachfully. "I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical
+matters--I have seen a good deal of acting--and I assure you that as a
+character-actress you..."
+
+Miss Winch rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically,
+and sat down again. She produced another stick of chewing-gum, then
+shook her head and replaced it in her bag.
+
+"You're a darling old thing to talk like that," she said, "and I hate to
+wake you out of your daydreams, but, honestly, Fillmore, dear, do just
+step out of the padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I know
+exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean. You took
+Elsa Doland out of a minor part and made her a star overnight. She goes
+to Chicago, and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As a
+matter of fact," she said to Sally with enthusiasm, for hers was an
+honest and generous nature, "you can't realize, not having seen her play
+there, what an amazing hit she has made. She really is a sensation.
+Everybody says she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very well,
+then, what does Fillmore do? The poor fish claps his hand to his
+forehead and cries 'Gadzooks! An idea! I've done it before, I'll do it
+again. I'm the fellow who can make a star out of anything.' And he picks
+on me!"
+
+"My dear girl..."
+
+"Now, the flaw in the scheme is this.  Elsa is a genius, and if he
+hadn't made her a star somebody else would have done. But little Gladys?
+That's something else again." She turned to Sally. "You've seen me in
+action, and let me tell you you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's
+part, with a tray to carry on in act one and a couple of 'Yes, madam's'
+in act two, and I'm there! Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it
+comes to saying 'Yes, madam,' and I'm willing to back myself for gold,
+notes, or lima beans against Sarah Bernhardt as a tray-carrier. But
+there I finish. That lets me out. And anybody who thinks otherwise is
+going to lose a lot of money. Between ourselves the only thing I can do
+really well is to cook..."
+
+"My dear Gladys!" cried Fillmore revolted.
+
+"I'm a heaven-born cook, and I don't mind notifying the world to that
+effect. I can cook a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
+mother for it. Also my English pork-pies! One of these days I'll take an
+afternoon off and assemble one for you. You'd be surprised! But
+acting--no. I can't do it, and I don't want to do it. I only went on the
+stage for fun, and my idea of fun isn't to plough through a star part
+with all the critics waving their axes in the front row, and me knowing
+all the time that it's taking money out of Fillmore's bankroll that
+ought to be going towards buying the little home with stationary
+wash-tubs... Well, that's that, Fillmore, old darling. I thought I'd
+just mention it."
+
+Sally could not help being sorry for Fillmore.  He was sitting with his
+chin on his hands, staring moodily before him--Napoleon at Elba. It was
+plain that this project of taking Miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
+and hurling her to the heights had been very near his heart.
+
+"If that's how you feel," he said in a stricken voice, "there is nothing
+more to say."
+
+"Oh, yes there is.  We will now talk about this revue of yours.  It's
+off!"
+
+Fillmore bounded to his feet; he thumped the desk with a well-nourished
+fist. A man can stand just so much.
+
+"It is not off! Great heavens! It's too much! I will not put up with
+this interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied and
+hampered. Here am I, a man of broad vision and... and... broad vision...
+I form my plans... my plans... I form them... I shape my schemes... and
+what happens? A horde of girls flock into my private office while I am
+endeavouring to concentrate... and concentrate... I won't stand it.
+Advice, yes. Interference, no. I... I... I... and kindly remember that!"
+
+The door closed with a bang.  A fainter detonation announced the
+whirlwind passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down the
+corridor.
+
+Sally looked at Miss Winch, stunned.  A roused and militant Fillmore was
+new to her.
+
+Miss Winch took out the stick of chewing-gum again and unwrapped it.
+
+"Isn't he cute!" she said.  "I hope he doesn't get the soft kind," she
+murmured, chewing reflectively.
+
+"The soft kind."
+
+"He'll be back soon with a box of candy," explained Miss Winch, "and he
+will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the
+other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's
+beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard
+work to get that boy down to earth again." Miss Winch heaved a gentle
+sigh. "I should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to pay
+the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out." She bit
+meditatively on her chewing-gum. "Not," she said, "that it matters. I'd
+be just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore was
+there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him." Her freckled face
+glowed. "He grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
+I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's
+the most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love
+about him. That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps
+always make the best husbands. When you marry. Sally, grab a chump. Tap
+his forehead first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the
+unhappy marriages come from the husband having brains. What good are
+brains to a man? They only unsettle him." She broke off and scrutinized
+Sally closely. "Say, what do you do with your skin?"
+
+She spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.
+
+"What do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me."
+
+"Well," said Miss Winch enviously, "I wish I could train my darned fool
+of a complexion to get that way. Freckles are the devil. When I was
+eight I had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
+adding to it right along. Some folks say lemon-juice'll cure 'em. Mine
+lap up all I give 'em and ask for more. There's only one way of getting
+rid of freckles, and that is to saw the head off at the neck."
+
+"But why do you want to get rid of them?"
+
+"Why? Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband's
+love, doesn't enjoy going about looking like something out of a dime
+museum."
+
+"How absurd! Fillmore worships freckles."
+
+"Did he tell you so?" asked Miss Winch eagerly.
+
+"Not in so many words, but you can see it in his eye."
+
+"Well, he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I
+will say that. And, what's more, I don't think feminine loveliness means
+much to Fillmore, or he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is
+calculated to give a girl a jar, you must admit, when she picks up a
+magazine and reads an advertisement of a face-cream beginning, 'Your
+husband is growing cold to you. Can you blame him? Have you really tried
+to cure those unsightly blemishes?'--meaning what I've got. Still, I
+haven't noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right."
+
+It was a subdued Sally who received Ginger when he called at her
+apartment a few days later on his return from Chicago. It seemed to her,
+thinking over the recent scene, that matters were even worse than she
+had feared. This absurd revue, which she had looked on as a mere
+isolated outbreak of foolishness, was, it would appear, only a specimen
+of the sort of thing her misguided brother proposed to do, a sample
+selected at random from a wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Fillmore,
+there was no longer any room for doubt, was preparing to express his
+great soul on a vast scale. And she could not dissuade him. A
+humiliating thought. She had grown so accustomed through the years to
+being the dominating mind that this revolt from her authority made her
+feel helpless and inadequate. Her self-confidence was shaken.
+
+And Bruce Carmyle was financing him... It was illogical, but Sally could
+not help feeling that when--she had not the optimism to say "if"--he
+lost his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him, as if
+the disaster had been her fault. She disliked, with a whole-hearted
+intensity, the thought of being under an obligation to Mr. Carmyle.
+
+Ginger said he had looked in to inspect the furniture on the chance that
+Sally might want it shifted again: but Sally had no criticisms to make
+on that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She sat Ginger
+down in the armchair and started to pour out her troubles. It soothed
+her to talk to him. In a world which had somehow become chaotic again
+after an all too brief period of peace, he was solid and consoling.
+
+"I shouldn't worry," observed Ginger with Winch-like calm, when she had
+finished drawing for him the picture of a Fillmore rampant against a
+background of expensive revues. Sally nearly shook him.
+
+"It's all very well to tell me not to worry," she cried.  "How can I
+help worrying? Fillmore's simply a baby, and he's just playing the fool.
+He has lost his head completely. And I can't stop him! That is the awful
+part of it. I used to be able to look him in the eye, and he would wag
+his tail and crawl back into his basket, but now I seem to have no
+influence at all over him. He just snorts and goes on running round in
+circles, breathing fire."
+
+Ginger did not abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining.
+
+"I think you are making too much of all this, you know.  I mean to say,
+it's quite likely he's found some mug... what I mean is, it's just
+possible that your brother isn't standing the entire racket himself.
+Perhaps some rich Johnnie has breezed along with a pot of money. It
+often happens like that, you know. You read in the paper that some
+manager or other is putting on some show or other, when really the chap
+who's actually supplying the pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in
+the background."
+
+"That is just what has happened, and it makes it worse than ever.
+Fillmore tells me that your cousin, Mr. Carmyle, is providing the
+money."
+
+This did interest Ginger.  He sat up with a jerk.
+
+"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," said Sally, still agitated but pleased that she had at last
+shaken him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
+
+Ginger was scowling.
+
+"That's a bit off," he observed.
+
+"I think so, too."
+
+"I don't like that."
+
+"Nor do I."
+
+"Do you know what I think?" said Ginger, ever a man of plain speech and
+a reckless plunger into delicate subjects. "The blighter's in love with
+you."
+
+Sally flushed.  After examining the evidence before her, she had reached
+the same conclusion in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed
+her to hear the thing put into bald words.
+
+"I know Bruce," continued Ginger, "and, believe me, he isn't the sort of
+cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly good motive. Of course,
+he's got tons of money. His old guvnor was the Carmyle of Carmyle, Brent
+& Co.--coal mines up in Wales, and all that sort of thing--and I
+suppose he must have left Bruce something like half a million. No need
+for the fellow to have worked at all, if he hadn't wanted to. As far as
+having the stuff goes, he's in a position to back all the shows he wants
+to. But the point is, it's right out of his line. He doesn't do that
+sort of thing. Not a drop of sporting blood in the chap. Why I've known
+him stick the whole family on to me just because it got noised about
+that I'd dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National. If he's really
+brought himself to the point of shelling out on a risky proposition like
+a show, it means something, take my word for it. And I don't see what
+else it can mean except... well, I mean to say, is it likely that he's
+doing it simply to make your brother look on him as a good egg and a
+pal, and all that sort of thing?"
+
+"No, it's not," agreed Sally.  "But don't let's talk about it any more.
+Tell me all about your trip to Chicago."
+
+"All right.  But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don't see how
+it matters to you one way or the other. You're engaged to another
+fellow, and when Bruce rolls up and says: 'What about it?' you've simply
+to tell him that the shot isn't on the board and will he kindly melt
+away. Then you hand him his hat and out he goes."
+
+Sally gave a troubled laugh.
+
+"You think that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl
+enjoys that sort of thing? Oh, what's the use of talking about it? It's
+horrible, and no amount of arguing will make it anything else. Do let's
+change the subject. How did you like Chicago?"
+
+"Oh, all right.  Rather a grubby sort of place."
+
+"So I've always heard.  But you ought not to mind that, being a
+Londoner."
+
+"Oh, I didn't mind it.  As a matter of fact, I had rather a good time.
+Saw one or two shows, you know. Got in on my face as your brother's
+representative, which was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy how
+you run into people when you move about, isn't it?"
+
+"You talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
+shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?"
+
+"Chap I hadn't seen for years.  Was at school with him, as a matter of
+fact. Fellow named Foster. But I expect you know him, too, don't you? By
+name, at any rate. He wrote your brother's show."
+
+Sally's heart jumped.
+
+"Oh! Did you meet Gerald--Foster?"
+
+"Ran into him one night at the theatre."
+
+"And you were really at school with him?"
+
+"Yes.  He was in the footer team with me my last year."
+
+"Was he a scrum-half, too?" asked Sally, dimpling.
+
+Ginger looked shocked.
+
+"You don't have two scrum-halves in a team," he said, pained at this
+ignorance on a vital matter. "The scrum-half is the half who works the
+scrum and..."
+
+"Yes, you told me that at Roville.  What was Gerald--Mr. Foster then? A
+six and seven-eighths, or something?"
+
+"He was a wing-three," said Ginger with a gravity befitting his theme.
+"Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve. But he would not learn to
+give the reverse pass inside to the centre."
+
+"Ghastly!" said Sally.
+
+"If," said Ginger earnestly, "a wing's bottled up by his wing and the
+back, the only thing he can do, if he doesn't want to be bundled into
+touch, is to give the reverse pass."
+
+"I know," said Sally.  "If I've thought that once, I've thought it a
+hundred times. How nice it must have been for you meeting again. I
+suppose you had all sorts of things to talk about?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"Not such a frightful lot.  We were never very thick.  You see, this
+chap Foster was by way of being a bit of a worm."
+
+"What!"
+
+"A tick," explained Ginger.  "A rotter.  He was pretty generally barred
+at school. Personally, I never had any use for him at all."
+
+Sally stiffened.  She had liked Ginger up to that moment, and later on,
+no doubt, she would resume her liking for him: but in the immediate
+moment which followed these words she found herself regarding him with
+stormy hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like that about
+Gerald?
+
+Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without a care in the world,
+proceeded to develop his theme.
+
+"It's a rummy thing about school.  Generally, if a fellow's good at
+games--in the cricket team or the footer team and so forth--he can
+hardly help being fairly popular. But this blighter Foster
+somehow--nobody seemed very keen on him. Of course, he had a few of his
+own pals, but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss. It may have been
+because he was a bit sidey... had rather an edge on him, you know...
+Personally, the reason I barred him was because he wasn't straight. You
+didn't notice it if you weren't thrown a goodish bit with him, of
+course, but he and I were in the same house, and..."
+
+Sally managed to control her voice, though it shook a little.
+
+"I ought to tell you," she said, and her tone would have warned him had
+he been less occupied, "that Mr. Foster is a great friend of mine."
+
+But Ginger was intent on the lighting of his cigarette, a delicate
+operation with the breeze blowing in through the open window. His head
+was bent, and he had formed his hands into a protective framework which
+half hid his face.
+
+"If you take my tip," he mumbled, "you'll drop him.  He's a wrong 'un."
+
+He spoke with the absent-minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sally could
+keep the conflagration under no longer. She was aflame from head to
+foot.
+
+"It may interest you to know," she said, shooting the words out like
+bullets from between clenched teeth, "that Gerald Foster is the man I am
+engaged to marry."
+
+Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands.  Amazement was in
+his eyes, and a sort of horror. The cigarette hung limply from his
+mouth. He did not speak, but sat looking at her, dazed. Then the match
+burnt his fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The sharp sting of it
+seemed to wake him. He blinked.
+
+"You're joking," he said, feebly.  There was a note of wistfulness in
+his voice. "It isn't true?"
+
+Sally kicked the leg of her chair irritably.  She read insolent
+disapproval into the words. He was daring to criticize...
+
+"Of course it's true..."
+
+"But..." A look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face.  He
+hesitated. Then, with the air of a man bracing himself to a dreadful,
+but unavoidable, ordeal, he went on. He spoke gruffly, and his eyes,
+which had been fixed on Sally's, wandered down to the match on the
+carpet. It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot on it.
+
+"Foster's married," he said shortly.  "He was married the day before I
+left Chicago."
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It seemed to Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over
+the room like a living presence, even the noises in the street had
+ceased, as though what he had said had been a spell cutting Sally and
+himself off from the outer world. Only the little clock on the
+mantelpiece ticked--ticked--ticked, like a heart beating fast.
+
+He stared straight before him, conscious of a strange rigidity.  He felt
+incapable of movement, as he had sometimes felt in nightmares; and not
+for all the wealth of America could he have raised his eyes just then to
+Sally's face. He could see her hands. They had tightened on the arm of
+the chair. The knuckles were white.
+
+He was blaming himself bitterly now for his oafish clumsiness in
+blurting out the news so abruptly. And yet, curiously, in his remorse
+there was something of elation. Never before had he felt so near to her.
+It was as though a barrier that had been between them had fallen.
+
+Something moved... It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing.  The fingers
+loosened their grip, tightened again, then, as if reluctantly relaxed
+once more. The blood flowed back.
+
+"Your cigarette's out."
+
+Ginger started violently.  Her voice, coming suddenly out of the
+silence, had struck him like a blow.
+
+"Oh, thanks!"
+
+He forced himself to light another match.  It sputtered noisily in the
+stillness. He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
+
+Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically.  For an instant he had seen
+Sally's face, white-cheeked and bright-eyed, the chin tilted like a flag
+flying over a stricken field. His mood changed. All his emotions had
+crystallized into a dull, futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man
+a thousand miles away.
+
+Sally spoke again.  Her voice sounded small and far off, an odd flatness
+in it.
+
+"Married?"
+
+Ginger threw his cigarette out of the window.  He was shocked to find
+that he was smoking. Nothing could have been farther from his intention
+than to smoke. He nodded.
+
+"Whom has he married?"
+
+Ginger coughed.  Something was sticking in his throat, and speech was
+difficult.
+
+"A girl called Doland."
+
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Elsa Doland." Sally drummed with her fingers on the arm of the chair.
+"Oh, Elsa Doland?"
+
+There was silence again.  The little clock ticked fussily on the
+mantelpiece. Out in the street automobile horns were blowing. From
+somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated train.
+Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious, unreal sense
+of novelty. She felt as though she had been projected into another world
+where everything was new and strange and horrible--everything except
+Ginger. About him, in the mere sight of him, there was something known
+and heartening.
+
+Suddenly, she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was behaving
+extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out of herself and to be
+regarding the scene from outside, regarding it coolly and critically;
+and it was plain to her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
+bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy.
+He had said nothing and he was not looking at her. And Sally felt that
+sympathy just now would be torture, and that she could not have borne to
+be looked at.
+
+Ginger was wonderful.  In that curious, detached spirit that had come
+upon her, she examined him impartially, and gratitude welled up from the
+very depths of her. There he sat, saying nothing and doing nothing, as
+if he knew that all she needed, the only thing that could keep her sane
+in this world of nightmare, was the sight of that dear, flaming head of
+his that made her feel that the world had not slipped away from her
+altogether.
+
+Ginger did not move.  The room had grown almost dark now.  A spear of
+light from a street lamp shone in through the window.
+
+Sally got up abruptly.  Slowly, gradually, inch by inch, the great
+suffocating cloud which had been crushing her had lifted. She felt alive
+again. Her black hour had gone, and she was back in the world of living
+things once more. She was afire with a fierce, tearing pain that
+tormented her almost beyond endurance, but dimly she sensed the fact
+that she had passed through something that was worse than pain, and,
+with Ginger's stolid presence to aid her, had passed triumphantly.
+
+"Go and have dinner, Ginger," she said.  "You must be starving."
+
+Ginger came to life like a courtier in the palace of the Sleeping
+Beauty. He shook himself, and rose stiffly from his chair.
+
+"Oh, no," he said.  "Not a bit, really."
+
+Sally switched on the light and set him blinking.  She could bear to be
+looked at now.
+
+"Go and dine," she said.  "Dine lavishly and luxuriously.  You've
+certainly earned..." Her voice faltered for a moment. She held out her
+hand. "Ginger," she said shakily, "I... Ginger, you're a pal."
+
+When he had gone.  Sally sat down and began to cry.  Then she dried her
+eyes in a business-like manner.
+
+"There, Miss Nicholas!" she said.  "You couldn't have done that an hour
+ago... We will now boil you an egg for your dinner and see how that
+suits you!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+SALLY RUNS AWAY
+
+
+
+If Ginger Kemp had been asked to enumerate his good qualities, it is not
+probable that he would have drawn up a very lengthy list. He might have
+started by claiming for himself the virtue of meaning well, but after
+that he would have had to chew the pencil in prolonged meditation. And,
+even if he could eventually have added one or two further items to the
+catalogue, tact and delicacy of feeling would not have been among them.
+
+Yet, by staying away from Sally during the next few days he showed
+considerable delicacy. It was not easy to stay away from her, but he
+forced himself to do so. He argued from his own tastes, and was strongly
+of opinion that in times of travail, solitude was what the sufferer most
+desired. In his time he, too, had had what he would have described as
+nasty jars, and on these occasions all he had asked was to be allowed to
+sit and think things over and fight his battle out by himself.
+
+By Saturday, however, he had come to the conclusion that some form of
+action might now be taken. Saturday was rather a good day for picking up
+the threads again. He had not to go to the office, and, what was still
+more to the point, he had just drawn his week's salary. Mrs. Meecher had
+deftly taken a certain amount of this off him, but enough remained to
+enable him to attempt consolation on a fairly princely scale. There
+presented itself to him as a judicious move the idea of hiring a car and
+taking Sally out to dinner at one of the road-houses he had heard about
+up the Boston Post Road. He examined the scheme. The more he looked at
+it, the better it seemed.
+
+He was helped to this decision by the extraordinary perfection of the
+weather. The weather of late had been a revelation to Ginger. It was his
+first experience of America's Indian Summer, and it had quite overcome
+him. As he stood on the roof of Mrs. Meecher's establishment on the
+Saturday morning, thrilled by the velvet wonder of the sunshine, it
+seemed to him that the only possible way of passing such a day was to
+take Sally for a ride in an open car.
+
+The Maison Meecher was a lofty building on one of the side-streets at
+the lower end of the avenue. From its roof, after you had worked your
+way through the groves of washing which hung limply from the
+clothes-line, you could see many things of interest. To the left lay
+Washington Square, full of somnolent Italians and roller-skating
+children; to the right was a spectacle which never failed to intrigue
+Ginger, the high smoke-stacks of a Cunard liner moving slowly down the
+river, sticking up over the house-tops as if the boat was travelling
+down Ninth Avenue.
+
+To-day there were four of these funnels, causing Ginger to deduce the
+Mauritania. As the boat on which he had come over from England, the
+Mauritania had a sentimental interest for him. He stood watching her
+stately progress till the higher buildings farther down the town shut
+her from his sight; then picked his way through the washing and went
+down to his room to get his hat. A quarter of an hour later he was in
+the hall-way of Sally's apartment house, gazing with ill-concealed
+disgust at the serge-clad back of his cousin Mr. Carmyle, who was
+engaged in conversation with a gentleman in overalls.
+
+No care-free prospector, singing his way through the Mojave Desert and
+suddenly finding himself confronted by a rattlesnake, could have
+experienced so abrupt a change of mood as did Ginger at this revolting
+spectacle. Even in their native Piccadilly it had been unpleasant to run
+into Mr. Carmyle. To find him here now was nothing short of nauseating.
+Only one thing could have brought him to this place. Obviously, he must
+have come to see Sally; and with a sudden sinking of the heart Ginger
+remembered the shiny, expensive automobile which he had seen waiting at
+the door. He, it was clear, was not the only person to whom the idea had
+occurred of taking Sally for a drive on this golden day.
+
+He was still standing there when Mr. Carmyle swung round with a frown on
+his dark face which seemed to say that he had not found the janitor's
+conversation entertaining. The sight of Ginger plainly did nothing to
+lighten his gloom.
+
+"Hullo!" he said.
+
+"Hullo!" said Ginger.
+
+Uncomfortable silence followed these civilities.
+
+"Have you come to see Miss Nicholas?"
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"She isn't here," said Mr. Carmyle, and the fact that he had found
+someone to share the bad news, seemed to cheer him a little.
+
+"Not here?"
+
+"No.  Apparently..." Bruce Carmyle's scowl betrayed that resentment
+which a well-balanced man cannot but feel at the unreasonableness of
+others. "... Apparently, for some extraordinary reason, she has taken it
+into her head to dash over to England."
+
+Ginger tottered.  The unexpectedness of the blow was crushing.  He
+followed his cousin out into the sunshine in a sort of dream. Bruce
+Carmyle was addressing the driver of the expensive automobile.
+
+"I find I shall not want the car.  You can take it back to the garage."
+
+The chauffeur, a moody man, opened one half-closed eye and spat
+cautiously. It was the way Rockefeller would have spat when approaching
+the crisis of some delicate financial negotiation.
+
+"You'll have to pay just the same," he observed, opening his other eye
+to lend emphasis to the words.
+
+"Of course I shall pay," snapped Mr. Carmyle, irritably.  "How much is
+it?"
+
+Money passed.  The car rolled off.
+
+"Gone to England?" said Ginger, dizzily.
+
+"Yes, gone to England."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"How the devil do I know why?" Bruce Carmyle would have found his best
+friend trying at this moment. Gaping Ginger gave him almost a physical
+pain. "All I know is what the janitor told me, that she sailed on the
+Mauretania this morning."
+
+The tragic irony of this overcame Ginger.  That he should have stood on
+the roof, calmly watching the boat down the river...
+
+He nodded absently to Mr. Carmyle and walked off.  He had no further
+remarks to make. The warmth had gone out of the sunshine and all
+interest had departed from his life. He felt dull, listless, at a loose
+end. Not even the thought that his cousin, a careful man with his money,
+had had to pay a day's hire for a car which he could not use brought him
+any balm. He loafed aimlessly about the streets. He wandered in the Park
+and out again. The Park bored him. The streets bored him. The whole city
+bored him. A city without Sally in it was a drab, futile city, and
+nothing that the sun could do to brighten it could make it otherwise.
+
+Night came at last, and with it a letter.  It was the first even
+passably pleasant thing that had happened to Ginger in the whole of this
+dreary and unprofitable day: for the envelope bore the crest of the good
+ship Mauretania. He snatched it covetously from the letter-rack, and
+carried it upstairs to his room.
+
+Very few of the rooms at Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house struck any note
+of luxury. Mrs. Meecher was not one of your fashionable interior
+decorators. She considered that when she had added a Morris chair to the
+essentials which make up a bedroom, she had gone as far in the direction
+of pomp as any guest at seven-and-a-half per could expect her to go. As
+a rule, the severity of his surroundings afflicted Ginger with a touch
+of gloom when he went to bed; but to-night--such is the magic of a
+letter from the right person--he was uplifted and almost gay. There are
+moments when even illuminated texts over the wash-stand cannot wholly
+quell us.
+
+There was nothing of haste and much of ceremony in Ginger's method of
+approaching the perusal of his correspondence. He bore himself after
+the manner of a small boy in the presence of unexpected ice-cream,
+gloating for awhile before embarking on the treat, anxious to make it
+last out. His first move was to feel in the breast-pocket of his coat
+and produce the photograph of Sally which he had feloniously removed
+from her apartment. At this he looked long and earnestly before propping
+it up within easy reach against his basin, to be handy, if required, for
+purposes of reference. He then took off his coat, collar, and shoes,
+filled and lit a pipe, placed pouch and matches on the arm of the Morris
+chair, and drew that chair up so that he could sit with his feet on the
+bed. Having manoeuvred himself into a position of ease, he lit his pipe
+again and took up the letter. He looked at the crest, the handwriting of
+the address, and the postmark. He weighed it in his hand. It was a
+bulky letter.
+
+He took Sally's photograph from the wash-stand and scrutinized it once
+more. Then he lit his pipe again, and, finally, wriggling himself into
+the depths of the chair, opened the envelope.
+
+"Ginger, dear."
+
+Having read so far, Ginger found it necessary to take up the photograph
+and study it with an even greater intentness than before. He gazed at it
+for many minutes, then laid it down and lit his pipe again. Then he went
+on with the letter.
+
+"Ginger, dear--I'm afraid this address is going to give you rather a
+shock, and I'm feeling very guilty. I'm running away, and I haven't even
+stopped to say good-bye. I can't help it. I know it's weak and cowardly,
+but I simply can't help it. I stood it for a day or two, and then I saw
+that it was no good. (Thank you for leaving me alone and not coming
+round to see me. Nobody else but you would have done that. But then,
+nobody ever has been or ever could be so understanding as you.)"
+
+Ginger found himself compelled at this point to look at the photograph
+again.
+
+"There was too much in New York to remind me.  That's the worst of being
+happy in a place. When things go wrong you find there are too many
+ghosts about. I just couldn't stand it. I tried, but I couldn't. I'm
+going away to get cured--if I can. Mr. Faucitt is over in England, and
+when I went down to Mrs. Meecher for my letters, I found one from him.
+His brother is dead, you know, and he has inherited, of all things, a
+fashionable dress-making place in Regent Street. His brother was
+Laurette et Cie. I suppose he will sell the business later on, but, just
+at present, the poor old dear is apparently quite bewildered and that
+doesn't seem to have occurred to him. He kept saying in his letter how
+much he wished I was with him, to help him, and I was tempted and ran.
+Anything to get away from the ghosts and have something to do. I don't
+suppose I shall feel much better in England, but, at least, every street
+corner won't have associations. Don't ever be happy anywhere, Ginger.
+It's too big a risk, much too big a risk.
+
+"There was a letter from Elsa Doland, too.  Bubbling over with
+affection. We had always been tremendous friends. Of course, she never
+knew anything about my being engaged to Gerald. I lent Fillmore the
+money to buy that piece, which gave Elsa her first big chance, and so
+she's very grateful. She says, if ever she gets the opportunity of doing
+me a good turn... Aren't things muddled?
+
+"And there was a letter from Gerald.  I was expecting one, of course,
+but... what would you have done, Ginger? Would you have read it? I sat
+with it in front of me for an hour, I should think, just looking at the
+envelope, and then... You see, what was the use? I could guess exactly
+the sort of thing that would be in it, and reading it would only have
+hurt a lot more. The thing was done, so why bother about explanations?
+What good are explanations, anyway? They don't help. They don't do
+anything... I burned it, Ginger. The last letter I shall ever get from
+him. I made a bonfire on the bathroom floor, and it smouldered and went
+brown, and then flared a little, and every now and then I lit another
+match and kept it burning, and at last it was just black ashes and a
+stain on the tiles. Just a mess!
+
+"Ginger, burn this letter, too.  I'm pouring out all the poison to you,
+hoping it will make me feel better. You don't mind, do you? But I know
+you don't. If ever anybody had a real pal...
+
+"It's a dreadful thing, fascination, Ginger.  It grips you and you are
+helpless. One can be so sensible and reasonable about other people's
+love affairs. When I was working at the dance place I told you about
+there was a girl who fell in love with the most awful little beast. He
+had a mean mouth and shiny black hair brushed straight back, and
+anybody would have seen what he was. But this girl wouldn't listen to a
+word. I talked to her by the hour. It makes me smile now when I think
+how sensible and level-headed I was. But she wouldn't listen. In some
+mysterious way this was the man she wanted, and, of course, everything
+happened that one knew would happen.
+
+"If one could manage one's own life as well as one can manage other
+people's! If all this wretched thing of mine had happened to some other
+girl, how beautifully I could have proved that it was the best thing
+that could have happened, and that a man who could behave as Gerald has
+done wasn't worth worrying about. I can just hear myself. But, you see,
+whatever he has done, Gerald is still Gerald and Sally is still Sally
+and, however much I argue, I can't get away from that. All I can do is
+to come howling to my redheaded pal, when I know just as well as he
+does that a girl of any spirit would be dignified and keep her troubles
+to herself and be much too proud to let anyone know that she was hurt.
+
+"Proud! That's the real trouble, Ginger.  My pride has been battered and
+chopped up and broken into as many pieces as you broke Mr. Scrymgeour's
+stick! What pitiful creatures we are. Girls, I mean. At least, I suppose
+a good many girls are like me. If Gerald had died and I had lost him
+that way, I know quite well I shouldn't be feeling as I do now. I should
+have been broken-hearted, but it wouldn't have been the same. It's my
+pride that is hurt. I have always been a bossy, cocksure little
+creature, swaggering about the world like an English sparrow; and now
+I'm paying for it! Oh, Ginger, I'm paying for it! I wonder if running
+away is going to do me any good at all. Perhaps, if Mr. Faucitt has some
+real hard work for me to do...
+
+"Of course, I know exactly how all this has come about.  Elsa's pretty
+and attractive. But the point is that she is a success, and as a success
+she appeals to Gerald's weakest side. He worships success. She is going
+to have a marvellous career, and she can help Gerald on in his. He can
+write plays for her to star in. What have I to offer against that? Yes,
+I know it's grovelling and contemptible of me to say that, Ginger. I
+ought to be above it, oughtn't I--talking as if I were competing for
+some prize... But I haven't any pride left. Oh, well!
+
+"There! I've poured it all out and I really do feel a little better just
+for the moment. It won't last, of course, but even a minute is
+something. Ginger, dear, I shan't see you for ever so long, even if we
+ever do meet again, but you'll try to remember that I'm thinking of you
+a whole lot, won't you? I feel responsible for you. You're my baby.
+You've got started now and you've only to stick to it. Please, please,
+please don't 'make a hash of it'! Good-bye. I never did find that
+photograph of me that we were looking for that afternoon in the
+apartment, or I would send it to you. Then you could have kept it on
+your mantelpiece, and whenever you felt inclined to make a hash of
+anything I would have caught your eye sternly and you would have pulled
+up.
+
+"Good-bye, Ginger.  I shall have to stop now.  The mail is just closing.
+
+"Always your pal, wherever I am.---SALLY."
+
+Ginger laid the letter down, and a little sound escaped him that was
+half a sigh, half an oath. He was wondering whether even now some
+desirable end might not be achieved by going to Chicago and breaking
+Gerald Foster's neck. Abandoning this scheme as impracticable, and not
+being able to think of anything else to do he re-lit his pipe and
+started to read the letter again.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+SOME LETTERS FOR GINGER
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie,
+
+Regent Street,
+
+London, W.,
+
+England.
+
+
+
+January 21st.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I'm feeling better.  As it's three months since I last
+wrote to you, no doubt you will say to yourself that I would be a poor,
+weak-minded creature if I wasn't. I suppose one ought to be able to get
+over anything in three months. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I haven't
+quite succeeded in doing that, but at least I have managed to get my
+troubles stowed away in the cellar, and I'm not dragging them out and
+looking at them all the time. That's something, isn't it?
+
+I ought to give you all my impressions of London, I suppose; but I've
+grown so used to the place that I don't think I have any now. I seem to
+have been here years and years.
+
+You will see by the address that Mr. Faucitt has not yet sold his
+inheritance. He expects to do so very soon, he tells me--there is a
+rich-looking man with whiskers and a keen eye whom he is always lunching
+with, and I think big deals are in progress. Poor dear! he is crazy to
+get away into the country and settle down and grow ducks and things.
+London has disappointed him. It is not the place it used to be. Until
+quite lately, when he grew resigned, he used to wander about in a
+disconsolate sort of way, trying to locate the landmarks of his youth.
+(He has not been in England for nearly thirty years!) The trouble is, it
+seems, that about once in every thirty years a sort of craze for change
+comes over London, and they paint a shop-front red instead of blue, and
+that upsets the returned exile dreadfully. Mr. Faucitt feels like Rip
+Van Winkle. His first shock was when he found that the Empire was a
+theatre now instead of a music-hall. Then he was told that another
+music-hall, the Tivoli, had been pulled down altogether. And when on top
+of that he went to look at the baker's shop in Rupert Street, over which
+he had lodgings in the eighties, and discovered that it had been turned
+into a dressmaker's, he grew very melancholy, and only cheered up a
+little when a lovely magenta fog came on and showed him that some things
+were still going along as in the good old days.
+
+I am kept quite busy at Laurette et Cie., thank goodness.  (Not being a
+French scholar like you--do you remember Jules?--I thought at first that
+Cie was the name of the junior partner, and looked forward to meeting
+him. "Miss Nicholas, shake hands with Mr. Cie, one of your greatest
+admirers.") I hold down the female equivalent of your job at the
+Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.--that is to say, I'm a
+sort of right-hand woman. I hang around and sidle up to the customers
+when they come in, and say, "Chawming weather, moddom!" (which is
+usually a black lie) and pass them on to the staff, who do the actual
+work. I shouldn't mind going on like this for the next few years, but
+Mr. Faucitt is determined to sell. I don't know if you are like that,
+but every other Englishman I've ever met seems to have an ambition to
+own a house and lot in Loamshire or Hants or Salop or somewhere. Their
+one object in life is to make some money and "buy back the old place"--
+which was sold, of course, at the end of act one to pay the heir's
+gambling debts.
+
+Mr. Faucitt, when he was a small boy, used to live in a little village
+in Gloucestershire, near a place called Cirencester--at least, it isn't:
+it's called Cissister, which I bet you didn't know--and after forgetting
+about it for fifty years, he has suddenly been bitten by the desire to
+end his days there, surrounded by pigs and chickens. He took me down to
+see the place the other day. Oh, Ginger, this English country! Why any
+of you ever live in towns I can't think. Old, old grey stone houses with
+yellow haystacks and lovely squelchy muddy lanes and great fat trees and
+blue hills in the distance. The peace of it! If ever I sell my soul, I
+shall insist on the devil giving me at least forty years in some English
+country place in exchange.
+
+Perhaps you will think from all this that I am too much occupied to
+remember your existence. Just to show how interested I am in you, let me
+tell you that, when I was reading the paper a week ago, I happened to
+see the headline, "International Match." It didn't seem to mean anything
+at first, and then I suddenly recollected. This was the thing you had
+once been a snip for! So I went down to a place called Twickenham, where
+this football game was to be, to see the sort of thing you used to do
+before I took charge of you and made you a respectable right-hand man.
+There was an enormous crowd there, and I was nearly squeezed to death,
+but I bore it for your sake. I found out that the English team were the
+ones wearing white shirts, and that the ones in red were the Welsh. I
+said to the man next to me, after he had finished yelling himself black
+in the face, "Could you kindly inform me which is the English
+scrum-half?" And just at that moment the players came quite near where I
+was, and about a dozen assassins in red hurled themselves violently on
+top of a meek-looking little fellow who had just fallen on the ball.
+Ginger, you are well out of it! That was the scrum-half, and I gathered
+that that sort of thing was a mere commonplace in his existence.
+Stopping a rush, it is called, and he is expected to do it all the time.
+The idea of you ever going in for such brutal sports! You thank your
+stars that you are safe on your little stool in Fillmore's outer office,
+and that, if anybody jumps on top of you now, you can call a cop. Do you
+mean to say you really used to do these daredevil feats? You must have
+hidden depths in you which I have never suspected.
+
+As I was taking a ride down Piccadilly the other day on top of a bus, I
+saw somebody walking along who seemed familiar. It was Mr. Carmyle. So
+he's back in England again. He didn't see me, thank goodness. I don't
+want to meet anybody just at present who reminds me of New York.
+
+Thanks for telling me all the news, but please don't do it again.  It
+makes me remember, and I don't want to. It's this way, Ginger. Let me
+write to you, because it really does relieve me, but don't answer my
+letters. Do you mind? I'm sure you'll understand.
+
+So Fillmore and Gladys Winch are married! From what I have seen of her,
+it's the best thing that has ever happened to Brother F. She is a
+splendid girl. I must write to him...
+
+
+
+Laurette et Cie..
+
+London
+
+
+
+March 12th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--I saw in a Sunday paper last week that "The Primrose Way"
+had been produced in New York, and was a great success. Well, I'm very
+glad. But I don't think the papers ought to print things like that. It's
+unsettling.
+
+Next day, I did one of those funny things you do when you're feeling
+blue and lonely and a long way away from everybody. I called at your
+club and asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk said
+in a fatherly way that you hadn't been in lately, and he rather fancied
+you were out of town, but would I take a seat while he inquired. He then
+summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the child skipped off
+chanting, "Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!" in a shrill treble. It gave me
+such an odd feeling to hear your name echoing in the distance. I felt so
+ashamed for giving them all that trouble; and when the boy came back I
+slipped twopence into his palm, which I suppose was against all the
+rules, though he seemed to like it.
+
+Mr. Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I am
+rather at a loose end...
+
+
+
+                                                 Monk's Crofton,
+                                                 (whatever that means)
+                                                 Much Middleford,
+                                                 Salop,
+                                                 (slang for Shropshire)
+                                                 England.
+
+
+
+April 18th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--What's the use? What is the use? I do all I can to get
+right away from New York, and New York comes after me and tracks me down
+in my hiding-place. A week or so ago, as I was walking down the Strand
+in an aimless sort of way, out there came right on top of me--who do
+you think? Fillmore, arm in arm with Mr. Carmyle! I couldn't dodge. In
+the first place, Mr. Carmyle had seen me; in the second place, it is a
+day's journey to dodge poor dear Fillmore now. I blushed for him.
+Ginger! Right there in the Strand I blushed for him. In my worst dreams
+I had never pictured him so enormous. Upon what meat doth this our
+Fillmore feed that he is grown so great? Poor Gladys! When she looks at
+him she must feel like a bigamist.
+
+Apparently Fillmore is still full of big schemes, for he talked airily
+about buying all sorts of English plays. He has come over, as I suppose
+you know, to arrange about putting on "The Primrose Way" over here. He
+is staying at the Savoy, and they took me off there to lunch, whooping
+joyfully as over a strayed lamb. It was the worst thing that could
+possibly have happened to me. Fillmore talked Broadway without a pause,
+till by the time he had worked his way past the French pastry and was
+lolling back, breathing a little stertorously, waiting for the coffee
+and liqueurs, he had got me so homesick that, if it hadn't been that I
+didn't want to make a public exhibition of myself, I should have broken
+down and howled. It was crazy of me ever to go near the Savoy. Of
+course, it's simply an annex to Broadway. There were Americans at every
+table as far as the eye could reach. I might just as well have been at
+the Astor.
+
+Well, if Fate insists in bringing New York to England for my special
+discomfiture, I suppose I have got to put up with it. I just let events
+take their course, and I have been drifting ever since. Two days ago I
+drifted here. Mr. Carmyle invited Fillmore--he seems to love
+Fillmore--and me to Monk's Crofton, and I hadn't even the shadow of an
+excuse for refusing. So I came, and I am now sitting writing to you in
+an enormous bedroom with an open fire and armchairs and every other sort
+of luxury. Fillmore is out golfing. He sails for New York on Saturday on
+the Mauretania. I am horrified to hear from him that, in addition to all
+his other big schemes, he is now promoting a fight for the light-weight
+championship in Jersey City, and guaranteeing enormous sums to both
+boxers. It's no good arguing with him. If you do, he simply quotes
+figures to show the fortunes other people have made out of these things.
+Besides, it's too late now, anyway. As far as I can make out, the fight
+is going to take place in another week or two. All the same, it makes my
+flesh creep.
+
+Well, it's no use worrying, I suppose.  Let's change the subject.  Do
+you know Monk's Crofton? Probably you don't, as I seem to remember
+hearing something said about it being a recent purchase. Mr. Carmyle
+bought it from some lord or other who had been losing money on the Stock
+Exchange. I hope you haven't seen it, anyway, because I want to
+describe it at great length. I want to pour out my soul about it.
+Ginger, what has England ever done to deserve such paradises? I thought,
+in my ignorance, that Mr. Faucitt's Cissister place was pretty good, but
+it doesn't even begin. It can't compete. Of course, his is just an
+ordinary country house, and this is a Seat. Monk's Crofton is the sort
+of place they used to write about in the English novels. You know. "The
+sunset was falling on the walls of G---- Castle, in B----shire, hard by
+the picturesque village of H----, and not a stone's throw from the
+hamlet of J----." I can imagine Tennyson's Maud living here. It is one
+of the stately homes of England; how beautiful they stand, and I'm crazy
+about it.
+
+You motor up from the station, and after you have gone about three
+miles, you turn in at a big iron gate with stone posts on each side with
+stone beasts on them. Close by the gate is the cutest little house with
+an old man inside it who pops out and touches his hat. This is only the
+lodge, really, but you think you have arrived; so you get all ready to
+jump out, and then the car goes rolling on for another fifty miles or so
+through beech woods full of rabbits and open meadows with deer in them.
+Finally, just as you think you are going on for ever, you whizz round a
+corner, and there's the house. You don't get a glimpse of it till then,
+because the trees are too thick.
+
+It's very large, and sort of low and square, with a kind of tower at one
+side and the most fascinating upper porch sort of thing with
+battlements. I suppose in the old days you used to stand on this and
+drop molten lead on visitors' heads. Wonderful lawns all round, and
+shrubberies and a lake that you can just see where the ground dips
+beyond the fields. Of course it's too early yet for them to be out, but
+to the left of the house there's a place where there will be about a
+million roses when June comes round, and all along the side of the
+rose-garden is a high wall of old red brick which shuts off the kitchen
+garden. I went exploring there this morning. It's an enormous place,
+with hot-houses and things, and there's the cunningest farm at one end
+with a stable yard full of puppies that just tear the heart out of you,
+they're so sweet. And a big, sleepy cat, which sits and blinks in the
+sun and lets the puppies run all over her. And there's a lovely
+stillness, and you can hear everything growing. And thrushes and
+blackbirds... Oh, Ginger, it's heavenly!
+
+But there's a catch.  It's a case of "Where every prospect pleases and
+only man is vile." At least, not exactly vile, I suppose, but terribly
+stodgy. I can see now why you couldn't hit it off with the Family.
+Because I've seen 'em all! They're here! Yes, Uncle Donald and all of
+them. Is it a habit of your family to collect in gangs, or have I just
+happened to stumble into an accidental Old Home Week? When I came down
+to dinner the first evening, the drawing-room was full to bursting
+point--not simply because Fillmore was there, but because there were
+uncles and aunts all over the place. I felt like a small lion in a den
+of Daniels. I know exactly now what you mean about the Family. They look
+at you! Of course, it's all right for me, because I am snowy white clear
+through, but I can just imagine what it must have been like for you with
+your permanently guilty conscience. You must have had an awful time.
+
+By the way, it's going to be a delicate business getting this letter
+through to you--rather like carrying the despatches through the enemy's
+lines in a Civil War play. You're supposed to leave letters on the table
+in the hall, and someone collects them in the afternoon and takes them
+down to the village on a bicycle. But, if I do that some aunt or uncle
+is bound to see it, and I shall be an object of loathing, for it is no
+light matter, my lad, to be caught having correspondence with a human
+Jimpson weed like you. It would blast me socially. At least, so I gather
+from the way they behaved when your name came up at dinner last night.
+Somebody mentioned you, and the most awful roasting party broke loose.
+Uncle Donald acting as cheer-leader. I said feebly that I had met you
+and had found you part human, and there was an awful silence till they
+all started at the same time to show me where I was wrong, and how
+cruelly my girlish inexperience had deceived me. A young and innocent
+half-portion like me, it appears, is absolutely incapable of suspecting
+the true infamy of the dregs of society. You aren't fit to speak to the
+likes of me, being at the kindest estimate little more than a blot on
+the human race. I tell you this in case you may imagine you're popular
+with the Family. You're not.
+
+So I shall have to exercise a good deal of snaky craft in smuggling this
+letter through. I'll take it down to the village myself if I can sneak
+away. But it's going to be pretty difficult, because for some reason I
+seem to be a centre of attraction. Except when I take refuge in my room,
+hardly a moment passes without an aunt or an uncle popping out and
+having a cosy talk with me. It sometimes seems as though they were
+weighing me in the balance. Well, let 'em weigh!
+
+Time to dress for dinner now.  Good-bye.
+
+Yours in the balance,
+
+sally.
+
+P.S.--You were perfectly right about your Uncle Donald's moustache, but
+I don't agree with you that it is more his misfortune than his fault. I
+think he does it on purpose.
+
+
+
+                                                  (Just for the moment)
+                                                  Monk's Crofton,
+                                                  Much Middleford,
+                                                  Salop,
+                                                  England.
+
+
+
+April 20th.
+
+Dear Ginger,--Leaving here to-day.  In disgrace.  Hard, cold looks from
+the family. Strained silences. Uncle Donald far from chummy. You can
+guess what has happened. I might have seen it coming. I can see now that
+it was in the air all along.
+
+Fillmore knows nothing about it.  He left just before it happened.  I
+shall see him very soon, for I have decided to come back and stop
+running away from things any longer. It's cowardly to skulk about over
+here. Besides, I'm feeling so much better that I believe I can face the
+ghosts. Anyway, I'm going to try. See you almost as soon as you get
+this.
+
+I shall mail this in London, and I suppose it will come over by the same
+boat as me. It's hardly worth writing, really, of course, but I have
+sneaked up to my room to wait till the motor arrives to take me to the
+station, and it's something to do. I can hear muffled voices. The
+Family talking me over, probably. Saying they never really liked me all
+along. Oh, well!
+
+Yours moving in an orderly manner to the exit,
+
+sally.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+Sally's emotions, as she sat in her apartment on the morning of her
+return to New York, resembled somewhat those of a swimmer who, after
+wavering on a raw morning at the brink of a chill pool, nerves himself
+to the plunge. She was aching, but she knew that she had done well. If
+she wanted happiness, she must fight for it, and for all these months
+she had been shirking the fight. She had done with wavering on the
+brink, and here she was, in mid-stream, ready for whatever might befall.
+It hurt, this coming to grips. She had expected it to hurt. But it was a
+pain that stimulated, not a dull melancholy that smothered. She felt
+alive and defiant.
+
+She had finished unpacking and tidying up.  The next move was certainly
+to go and see Ginger. She had suddenly become aware that she wanted very
+badly to see Ginger. His stolid friendliness would be a support and a
+prop. She wished now that she had sent him a cable, so that he could
+have met her at the dock. It had been rather terrible at the dock. The
+echoing customs sheds had sapped her valour and she felt alone and
+forlorn.
+
+She looked at her watch, and was surprised to find how early it was.
+She could catch him at the office and make him take her out to lunch.
+She put on her hat and went out.
+
+The restless hand of change, always active in New York, had not spared
+the outer office of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. in
+the months of her absence. She was greeted on her arrival by an entirely
+new and original stripling in the place of the one with whom at her last
+visit she had established such cordial relations. Like his predecessor
+he was generously pimpled, but there the resemblance stopped. He was a
+grim boy, and his manner was stern and suspicious. He peered narrowly at
+Sally for a moment as if he had caught her in the act of purloining the
+office blotting-paper, then, with no little acerbity, desired her to
+state her business.
+
+"I want Mr. Kemp," said Sally.
+
+The office-boy scratched his cheek dourly with a ruler.  No one would
+have guessed, so austere was his aspect, that a moment before her
+entrance he had been trying to balance it on his chin, juggling the
+while with a pair of paper-weights. For, impervious as he seemed to
+human weaknesses, it was this lad's ambition one day to go into
+vaudeville.
+
+"What name?" he said, coldly.
+
+"Nicholas," said Sally.  "I am Mr. Nicholas' sister."
+
+On a previous occasion when she had made this announcement, disastrous
+results had ensued; but to-day it went well. It seemed to hit the
+office-boy like a bullet. He started convulsively, opened his mouth,
+and dropped the ruler. In the interval of stooping and recovering it he
+was able to pull himself together. He had not been curious about Sally's
+name. What he had wished was to have the name of the person for whom she
+was asking repeated. He now perceived that he had had a bit of luck. A
+wearying period of disappointment in the matter of keeping the
+paper-weights circulating while balancing the ruler, had left him
+peevish, and it had been his intention to work off his ill-humour on the
+young visitor. The discovery that it was the boss's sister who was
+taking up his time, suggested the advisability of a radical change of
+tactics. He had stooped with a frown: he returned to the perpendicular
+with a smile that was positively winning. It was like the sun suddenly
+bursting through a London fog.
+
+"Will you take a seat, lady?" he said, with polished courtesy even
+unbending so far as to reach out and dust one with the sleeve of his
+coat. He added that the morning was a fine one.
+
+"Thank you," said Sally.  "Will you tell him I'm here."
+
+"Mr. Nicholas is out, miss," said the office-boy, with gentlemanly
+regret. "He's back in New York, but he's gone out."
+
+"I don't want Mr. Nicholas.  I want Mr. Kemp."
+
+"Mr. Kemp?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Kemp."
+
+Sorrow at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy's
+face.
+
+"Don't know of anyone of that name around here," he said,
+apologetically.
+
+"But surely..." Sally broke off suddenly.  A grim foreboding had come to
+her. "How long have you been here?" she asked.
+
+"All day, ma'am," said the office-boy, with the manner of a Casablanca.
+
+"I mean, how long have you been employed here?"
+
+"Just over a month, miss."
+
+"Hasn't Mr. Kemp been in the office all that time?"
+
+"Name's new to me, lady.  Does he look like anything? I meanter say,
+what's he look like?"
+
+"He has very red hair."
+
+"Never seen him in here," said the office-boy.  The truth shone coldly
+on Sally. She blamed herself for ever having gone away, and told herself
+that she might have known what would happen. Left to his own resources,
+the unhappy Ginger had once more made a hash of it. And this hash must
+have been a more notable and outstanding hash than any of his previous
+efforts, for, surely, Fillmore would not lightly have dismissed one who
+had come to him under her special protection.
+
+"Where is Mr. Nicholas?" she asked.  It seemed to her that Fillmore was
+the only possible source of information. "Did you say he was out?"
+
+"Really out, miss," said the office-boy, with engaging candour.  "He
+went off to White Plains in his automobile half-an-hour ago."
+
+"White Plains? What for?"
+
+The pimpled stripling had now given himself up wholeheartedly to social
+chit-chat. Usually he liked his time to himself and resented the
+intrusion of the outer world, for he who had chosen jugglery for his
+walk in life must neglect no opportunity of practising: but so
+favourable was the impression which Sally had made on his plastic mind
+that he was delighted to converse with her as long as she wished.
+
+"I guess what's happened is, he's gone up to take a look at Bugs
+Butler," he said.
+
+"Whose butler?" said Sally mystified.
+
+The office-boy smiled a tolerant smile.  Though an admirer of the sex,
+he was aware that women were seldom hep to the really important things
+in life. He did not blame them. That was the way they were constructed,
+and one simply had to accept it.
+
+"Bugs Butler is training up at White Plains, miss."
+
+"Who is Bugs Butler?"
+
+Something of his former bleakness of aspect returned to the office-boy.
+Sally's question had opened up a subject on which he felt deeply.
+
+"Ah!" he replied, losing his air of respectful deference as he
+approached the topic. "Who is he! That's what they're all saying, all
+the wise guys. Who has Bugs Butler ever licked?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, for he had fixed her with a penetrating gaze
+and seemed to be pausing for a reply.
+
+"Nor nobody else," said the stripling vehemently.  "A lot of stiffs out
+on the coast, that's all. Ginks nobody has ever heard of, except Cyclone
+Mullins, and it took that false alarm fifteen rounds to get a referee's
+decision over him. The boss would go and give him a chance against the
+champ, but I could have told him that the legitimate contender was K-leg
+Binns. K-leg put Cyclone Mullins out in the fifth. Well," said the
+office-boy in the overwrought tone of one chafing at human folly, "if
+anybody thinks Bugs Butler can last six rounds with Lew Lucas, I've two
+bucks right here in my vest pocket that says it ain't so."
+
+Sally began to see daylight.
+
+"Oh, Bugs--Mr. Butler is one of the boxers in this fight that my brother
+is interested in?"
+
+"That's right.  He's going up against the lightweight champ.  Lew Lucas
+is the lightweight champ. He's a bird!"
+
+"Yes?" said Sally.  This youth had a way of looking at her with his head
+cocked on one side as though he expected her to say something.
+
+"Yes, sir!" said the stripling with emphasis.  "Lew Lucas is a hot
+sketch. He used to live on the next street to me," he added as clinching
+evidence of his hero's prowess. "I've seen his old mother as close as I
+am to you. Say, I seen her a hundred times. Is any stiff of a Bugs
+Butler going to lick a fellow like that?"
+
+"It doesn't seem likely."
+
+"You spoke it!" said the lad crisply, striking unsuccessfully at a fly
+which had settled on the blotting-paper.
+
+There was a pause.  Sally started to rise.
+
+"And there's another thing," said the office-boy, loath to close the
+subject. "Can Bugs Butler make a hundred and thirty-five ringside
+without being weak?"
+
+"It sounds awfully difficult."
+
+"They say he's clever." The expert laughed satirically.  "Well, what's
+that going to get him? The poor fish can't punch a hole in a
+nut-sundae."
+
+"You don't seem to like Mr. Butler."
+
+"Oh, I've nothing against him," said the office-boy magnanimously.
+"I'm only saying he's no licence to be mixing it with Lew Lucas."
+
+Sally got up.  Absorbing as this chat on current form was, more
+important matters claimed her attention.
+
+"How shall I find my brother when I get to White Plains?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, anybody'll show you the way to the training-camp.  If you hurry,
+there's a train you can make now."
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+"You're welcome."
+
+He opened the door for her with an old-world politeness which disuse had
+rendered a little rusty: then, with an air of getting back to business
+after a pleasant but frivolous interlude, he took up the paper-weights
+once more and placed the ruler with nice care on his upturned chin.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Fillmore heaved a sigh of relief and began to sidle from the room.  It
+was a large room, half barn, half gymnasium. Athletic appliances of
+various kinds hung on the walls and in the middle there was a wide
+roped-off space, around which a small crowd had distributed itself with
+an air of expectancy. This is a commercial age, and the days when a
+prominent pugilist's training activities used to be hidden from the
+public gaze are over. To-day, if the public can lay its hands on fifty
+cents, it may come and gaze its fill. This afternoon, plutocrats to the
+number of about forty had assembled, though not all of these, to the
+regret of Mr. Lester Burrowes, the manager of the eminent Bugs Butler,
+had parted with solid coin. Many of those present were newspaper
+representatives and on the free list--writers who would polish up Mr.
+Butler's somewhat crude prognostications as to what he proposed to do to
+Mr. Lew Lucas, and would report him as saying, "I am in really superb
+condition and feel little apprehension of the issue," and artists who
+would depict him in a state of semi-nudity with feet several sizes too
+large for any man.
+
+The reason for Fillmore's relief was that Mr. Burrowes, who was a great
+talker and had buttonholed him a quarter of an hour ago, had at last had
+his attention distracted elsewhere, and had gone off to investigate
+some matter that called for his personal handling, leaving Fillmore free
+to slide away to the hotel and get a bite to eat, which he sorely
+needed. The zeal which had brought him to the training-camp to inspect
+the final day of Mr. Butler's preparation--for the fight was to take
+place on the morrow--had been so great that he had omitted to lunch
+before leaving New York.
+
+So Fillmore made thankfully for the door.  And it was at the door that
+he encountered Sally. He was looking over his shoulder at the moment,
+and was not aware of her presence till she spoke.
+
+"Hallo, Fillmore!"
+
+Sally had spoken softly, but a dynamite explosion could not have
+shattered her brother's composure with more completeness. In the leaping
+twist which brought him facing her, he rose a clear three inches from
+the floor. He had a confused sensation, as though his nervous system had
+been stirred up with a pole. He struggled for breath and moistened his
+lips with the tip of his tongue, staring at her continuously during the
+process.
+
+Great men, in their moments of weakness, are to be pitied rather than
+scorned. If ever a man had an excuse for leaping like a young ram,
+Fillmore had it. He had left Sally not much more than a week ago in
+England, in Shropshire, at Monk's Crofton. She had said nothing of any
+intention on her part of leaving the country, the county, or the house.
+Yet here she was, in Bugs Butler's training-camp at White Plains, in the
+State of New York, speaking softly in his ear without even going through
+the preliminary of tapping him on the shoulder to advertise her
+presence. No wonder that Fillmore was startled. And no wonder that, as
+he adjusted his faculties to the situation, there crept upon him a chill
+apprehension.
+
+For Fillmore had not been blind to the significance of that invitation
+to Monk's Crofton. Nowadays your wooer does not formally approach a
+girl's nearest relative and ask permission to pay his addresses; but,
+when he invites her and that nearest relative to his country home and
+collects all the rest of the family to meet her, the thing may be said
+to have advanced beyond the realms of mere speculation. Shrewdly
+Fillmore had deduced that Bruce Carmyle was in love with Sally, and
+mentally he had joined their hands and given them a brother's blessing.
+And now it was only too plain that disaster must have occurred. If the
+invitation could mean only one thing, so also could Sally's presence at
+White Plains mean only one thing.
+
+"Sally!" A croaking whisper was the best he could achieve.  "What...
+what... ?"
+
+"Did I startle you? I'm sorry."
+
+"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+Sally glanced past him at the ring and the crowd around it.
+
+"I decided I wanted to get back to America.  Circumstances arose which
+made it pleasanter to leave Monk's Crofton."
+
+"Do you mean to say... ?"
+
+"Yes.  Don't let's talk about it."
+
+"Do you mean to say," persisted Fillmore, "that Carmyle proposed to you
+and you turned him down?"
+
+Sally flushed.
+
+"I don't think it's particularly nice to talk about that sort of thing,
+but--yes."
+
+A feeling of desolation overcame Fillmore.  That conviction, which
+saddens us at all times, of the wilful bone-headedness of our fellows
+swept coldly upon him. Everything had been so perfect, the whole
+arrangement so ideal, that it had never occurred to him as a possibility
+that Sally might take it into her head to spoil it by declining to play
+the part allotted to her. The match was so obviously the best thing that
+could happen. It was not merely the suitor's impressive wealth that made
+him hold this opinion, though it would be idle to deny that the prospect
+of having a brother-in-lawful claim on the Carmyle bank-balance had cast
+a rosy glamour over the future as he had envisaged it. He honestly liked
+and respected the man. He appreciated his quiet and aristocratic
+reserve. A well-bred fellow, sensible withal, just the sort of husband a
+girl like Sally needed. And now she had ruined everything. With the
+capricious perversity which so characterizes her otherwise delightful
+sex, she had spilled the beans.
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Oh, Fill!" Sally had expected that realization of the facts would
+produce these symptoms in him, but now that they had presented
+themselves she was finding them rasping to the nerves. "I should have
+thought the reason was obvious."
+
+"You mean you don't like him?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not.  I certainly don't like him enough to
+marry him."
+
+"He's a darned good fellow."
+
+"Is he? You say so.  I don't know."
+
+The imperious desire for bodily sustenance began to compete
+successfully for Fillmore's notice with his spiritual anguish.
+
+"Let's go to the hotel and talk it over.  We'll go to the hotel and I'll
+give you something to eat."
+
+"I don't want anything to eat, thanks."
+
+"You don't want anything to eat?" said Fillmore incredulously.  He
+supposed in a vague sort of way that there were eccentric people of this
+sort, but it was hard to realize that he had met one of them. "I'm
+starving."
+
+"Well, run along then."
+
+"Yes, but I want to talk..."
+
+He was not the only person who wanted to talk.  At the moment a small
+man of sporting exterior hurried up. He wore what his tailor's
+advertisements would have called a "nobbly" suit of checked tweed
+and--in defiance of popular prejudice--a brown bowler hat. Mr. Lester
+Burrowes, having dealt with the business which had interrupted their
+conversation a few minutes before, was anxious to resume his remarks on
+the subject of the supreme excellence in every respect of his young
+charge.
+
+"Say, Mr. Nicholas, you ain't going'? Bugs is just getting ready to
+spar."
+
+He glanced inquiringly at Sally.
+
+"My sister--Mr. Burrowes," said Fillmore faintly.  "Mr. Burrowes is Bugs
+Butler's manager."
+
+"How do you do?" said Sally.
+
+"Pleased to meecher," said Mr. Burrowes.  "Say..."
+
+"I was just going to the hotel to get something to eat," said Fillmore.
+
+Mr. Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with
+a glittering eye.
+
+"Yes, but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef'n.  You've never seen
+this boy of mine, not when he was feeling right. Believe me, he's there!
+He's a wizard. He's a Hindoo! Say, he's been practising up a left shift
+that..."
+
+Fillmore's eye met Sally's wanly, and she pitied him.  Presently she
+would require him to explain to her how he had dared to dismiss Ginger
+from his employment--and make that explanation a good one: but in the
+meantime she remembered that he was her brother and was suffering.
+
+"He's the cleverest lightweight," proceeded Mr. Burrowes fervently,
+"since Joe Gans. I'm telling you and I know! He..."
+
+"Can he make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without being weak?"
+asked Sally.
+
+The effect of this simple question on Mr. Burrowes was stupendous.  He
+dropped away from Fillmore's coat-button like an exhausted bivalve, and
+his small mouth opened feebly. It was as if a child had suddenly
+propounded to an eminent mathematician some abstruse problem in the
+higher algebra. Females who took an interest in boxing had come into Mr.
+Burrowes' life before---in his younger days, when he was a famous
+featherweight, the first of his three wives had been accustomed to sit
+at the ringside during his contests and urge him in language of the
+severest technicality to knock opponents' blocks off--but somehow he had
+not supposed from her appearance and manner that Sally was one of the
+elect. He gaped at her, and the relieved Fillmore sidled off like a bird
+hopping from the compelling gaze of a snake. He was not quite sure that
+he was acting correctly in allowing his sister to roam at large among
+the somewhat Bohemian surroundings of a training-camp, but the instinct
+of self-preservation turned the scale. He had breakfasted early, and if
+he did not eat right speedily it seemed to him that dissolution would
+set in.
+
+"Whazzat?" said Mr. Burrowes feebly.
+
+"It took him fifteen rounds to get a referee's decision over Cyclone
+Mullins," said Sally severely, "and K-leg Binns..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes rallies.
+
+"You ain't got it right" he protested.  "Say, you mustn't believe what
+you see in the papers. The referee was dead against us, and Cyclone was
+down once for all of half a minute and they wouldn't count him out. Gee!
+You got to kill a guy in some towns before they'll give you a decision.
+At that, they couldn't do nothing so raw as make it anything but a win
+for my boy, after him leading by a mile all the way. Have you ever seen
+Bugs, ma'am?"
+
+Sally had to admit that she had not had that privilege.  Mr. Burrowes
+with growing excitement felt in his breast-pocket and produced a
+picture-postcard, which he thrust into her hand.
+
+"That's Bugs," he said.  "Take a slant at that and then tell me if he
+don't look the goods."
+
+The photograph represented a young man in the irreducible minimum of
+clothing who crouched painfully, as though stricken with one of the
+acuter forms of gastritis.
+
+"I'll call him over and have him sign it for you," said Mr. Burrowes,
+before Sally had had time to grasp the fact that this work of art was a
+gift and no mere loan. "Here, Bugs--wantcher."
+
+A youth enveloped in a bath-robe, who had been talking to a group of
+admirers near the ring, turned, started languidly towards them, then,
+seeing Sally, quickened his pace. He was an admirer of the sex.
+
+Mr. Burrowes did the honours.
+
+"Bugs, this is Miss Nicholas, come to see you work out.  I have been
+telling her she's going to have a treat." And to Sally. "Shake hands
+with Bugs Butler, ma'am, the coming lightweight champion of the world."
+
+Mr. Butler's photograph, Sally considered, had flattered him.  He was,
+in the flesh, a singularly repellent young man. There was a mean and
+cruel curve to his lips and a cold arrogance in his eye; a something
+dangerous and sinister in the atmosphere he radiated. Moreover, she did
+not like the way he smirked at her.
+
+However, she exerted herself to be amiable.
+
+"I hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler," she said.
+
+The smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming
+champion's doubts, though they had never been serious. He was convinced
+now that he had made a hit. He always did, he reflected, with the girls.
+It was something about him. His chest swelled complacently beneath the
+bath-robe.
+
+"You betcher," he asserted briefly.
+
+Mr. Burrows looked at his watch.
+
+"Time you were starting, Bugs."
+
+The coming champion removed his gaze from Sally's face, into which he
+had been peering in a conquering manner, and cast a disparaging glance
+at the audience. It was far from being as large as he could have wished,
+and at least a third of it was composed of non-payers from the
+newspapers.
+
+"All right," he said, bored.
+
+His languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits
+revived somewhat. After all, small though the numbers of spectators
+might be, bright eyes would watch and admire him.
+
+"I'll go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter," he said.  "Seen
+him anywheres? He's never around when he's wanted."
+
+"I'll fetch him," said Mr. Burrowes.  "He's back there somewheres."
+
+"I'm going to show that guy up this afternoon," said Mr. Butler coldly.
+"He's been getting too fresh."
+
+The manager bustled off, and Bugs Butler, with a final smirk, left Sally
+and dived under the ropes. There was a stir of interest in the audience,
+though the newspaper men, blasé through familiarity, exhibited no
+emotion. Presently Mr. Burrowes reappeared, shepherding a young man
+whose face was hidden by the sweater which he was pulling over his head.
+He was a sturdily built young man. The sweater, moving from his body,
+revealed a good pair of shoulders.
+
+A last tug, and the sweater was off.  Red hair flashed into view,
+tousled and disordered: and, as she saw it, Sally uttered an involuntary
+gasp of astonishment which caused many eyes to turn towards her. And the
+red-headed young man, who had been stooping to pick up his gloves,
+straightened himself with a jerk and stood staring at her blankly and
+incredulously, his face slowly crimsoning.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+It was the energetic Mr. Burrowes who broke the spell.
+
+"Come on, come on," he said impatiently.  "Li'l speed there, Reddy."
+
+Ginger Kemp started like a sleep-walker awakened; then recovering
+himself, slowly began to pull on the gloves. Embarrassment was stamped
+on his agreeable features. His face matched his hair.
+
+Sally plucked at the little manager's elbow.  He turned irritably, but
+beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source of the
+interruption.
+
+"Who--him?" he said in answer to Sally's whispered question.  "He's just
+one of Bugs' sparring-partners."
+
+"But..."
+
+Mr. Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted
+her.
+
+"You'll excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch.  We mustn't waste
+any time."
+
+Sally drew back.  She felt like an infidel who intrudes upon the
+celebration of strange rites. This was Man's hour, and women must keep
+in the background. She had the sensation of being very small and yet
+very much in the way, like a puppy who has wandered into a church. The
+novelty and solemnity of the scene awed her.
+
+She looked at Ginger, who with averted gaze was fiddling with his
+clothes in the opposite corner of the ring. He was as removed from
+communication as if he had been in another world. She continued to
+stare, wide-eyed, and Ginger, shuffling his feet self-consciously,
+plucked at his gloves.
+
+Mr. Butler, meanwhile, having doffed his bath-robe, stretched himself,
+and with leisurely nonchalance put on a second pair of gloves, was
+filling in the time with a little shadow boxing. He moved rhythmically
+to and fro, now ducking his head, now striking out with his muffled
+hands, and a sickening realization of the man's animal power swept over
+Sally and turned her cold. Swathed in his bath-robe, Bugs Butler had
+conveyed an atmosphere of dangerousness: in the boxing-tights which
+showed up every rippling muscle, he was horrible and sinister, a machine
+built for destruction, a human panther.
+
+So he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at
+her side was not equally impressed. Obviously one of the Wise Guys of
+whom her friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly
+dissatisfied with the exhibition.
+
+"Shadow-boxing," he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion.
+"Yes, he can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain't got
+a partner to get in the way. But one good wallop, and then watch him."
+
+His friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a
+curt nod.
+
+"Ah!" he agreed.
+
+"Lew Lucas," said the first wise guy, "is just as shifty, and he can
+punch."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+"Just because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners," said
+the first wise guy disparagingly, "he thinks he's someone."
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+As far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which
+was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring. For a comforting
+moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to be devoured by
+a lion. Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so formidable as he appeared.
+But her relief was not to be long-lived.
+
+"Of course he'll eat this red-headed gink," went on the first wise guy.
+"That's the thing he does best, killing his sparring-partners. But Lew
+Lucas..."
+
+Sally was not interested in Lew Lucas.  That numbing fear had come back
+to her. Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had
+plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger. She tried to tear
+herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her there
+standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring forlornly
+into the ring.
+
+"Ready, Bugs?" asked Mr. Burrowes.
+
+The coming champion nodded carelessly.
+
+"Go to it," said Mr. Burrowes.
+
+Ginger ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+Of all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained
+expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler. In other fields
+the amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with the man
+who has made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at boxing
+never: and the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he had laid
+this truth to heart. It would be too little to say that his bearing was
+confident: he comported himself with the care-free jauntiness of an
+infant about to demolish a Noah's Ark with a tack-hammer. Cyclone
+Mullinses might withstand him for fifteen rounds where they yielded to a
+K-leg Binns in the fifth, but, when it came to beating up a
+sparring-partner and an amateur at that, Bugs Butler knew his
+potentialities. He was there forty ways and he did not attempt to
+conceal it. Crouching as was his wont, he uncoiled himself like a
+striking rattlesnake and flicked Ginger lightly over his guard. Then he
+returned to his crouch and circled sinuously about the ring with the
+amiable intention of showing the crowd, payers and deadheads alike, what
+real footwork was. If there was one thing on which Bugs Butler prided
+himself, it was footwork.
+
+The adverb "lightly" is a relative term, and the blow which had just
+planted a dull patch on Ginger's cheekbone affected those present in
+different degrees. Ginger himself appeared stolidly callous. Sally
+shuddered to the core of her being and had to hold more tightly to the
+rope to support herself. The two wise guys mocked openly. To the wise
+guys, expert connoisseurs of swat, the thing had appeared richly
+farcical. They seemed to consider the blow, administered to a third
+party and not to themselves, hardly worth calling a blow at all. Two
+more, landing as quickly and neatly as the first, left them equally
+cold.
+
+"Call that punching?" said the first wise guy.
+
+"Ah!" said the second wise guy.
+
+But Mr. Butler, if he heard this criticism--and it is probable that he
+did--for the wise ones had been restrained by no delicacy of feeling
+from raising their voices, was in no way discommoded by it. Bugs Butler
+knew what he was about. Bright eyes were watching him, and he meant to
+give them a treat. The girls like smooth work. Any roughneck could sail
+into a guy and knock the daylights out of him, but how few could be
+clever and flashy and scientific? Few, few, indeed, thought Mr. Butler
+as he slid in and led once more.
+
+Something solid smote Mr. Butler's nose, rocking him on to his heels and
+inducing an unpleasant smarting sensation about his eyes. He backed away
+and regarded Ginger with astonishment, almost with pain. Until this
+moment he had scarcely considered him as an active participant in the
+scene at all, and he felt strongly that this sort of thing was bad form.
+It was not being done by sparring-partners.
+
+A juster man might have reflected that he himself was to blame.  He had
+undeniably been careless. In the very act of leading he had allowed his
+eyes to flicker sideways to see how Sally was taking this exhibition of
+science, and he had paid the penalty. Nevertheless, he was piqued. He
+shimmered about the ring, thinking it over. And the more he thought it
+over, the less did he approve of his young assistant's conduct. Hard
+thoughts towards Ginger began to float in his mind.
+
+Ginger, too, was thinking hard thoughts.  He had not had an easy time
+since he had come to the training camp, but never till to-day had he
+experienced any resentment towards his employer. Until this afternoon
+Bugs Butler had pounded him honestly and without malice, and he had gone
+through it, as the other sparring-partners did, phlegmatically, taking
+it as part of the day's work. But this afternoon there had been a
+difference. Those careless flicks had been an insult, a deliberate
+offence. The man was trying to make a fool of him, playing to the
+gallery: and the thought of who was in that gallery inflamed Ginger past
+thought of consequences. No one, not even Mr. Butler, was more keenly
+alive than he to the fact that in a serious conflict with a man who
+to-morrow night might be light-weight champion of the world he stood no
+chance whatever: but he did not intend to be made an exhibition of in
+front of Sally without doing something to hold his end up. He proposed
+to go down with his flag flying, and in pursuance of this object he dug
+Mr. Butler heavily in the lower ribs with his right, causing that expert
+to clinch and the two wise guys to utter sharp barking sounds expressive
+of derision.
+
+"Say, what the hell d'ya think you're getting at?" demanded the
+aggrieved pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger's ear as they fell into
+the embrace. "What's the idea, you jelly bean?"
+
+Ginger maintained a pink silence.  His jaw was set, and the temper which
+Nature had bestowed upon him to go with his hair had reached white heat.
+He dodged a vicious right which whizzed up at his chin out of the
+breaking clinch, and rushed. A left hook shook him, but was too high to
+do more. There was rough work in the far corner, and suddenly with
+startling abruptness Bugs Butler, bothered by the ropes at his back and
+trying to side-step, ran into a swing and fell.
+
+"Time!" shouted the scandalized Mr. Burrowes, utterly aghast at this
+frightful misadventure. In the whole course of his professional
+experience he could recall no such devastating occurrence.
+
+The audience was no less startled.  There was audible gasping.  The
+newspaper men looked at each other with a wild surmise and conjured up
+pleasant pictures of their sporting editors receiving this sensational
+item of news later on over the telephone. The two wise guys, continuing
+to pursue Mr. Butler with their dislike, emitted loud and raucous
+laughs, and one of them, forming his hands into a megaphone, urged the
+fallen warrior to go away and get a rep. As for Sally, she was conscious
+of a sudden, fierce, cave-womanly rush of happiness which swept away
+completely the sickening qualms of the last few minutes. Her teeth were
+clenched and her eyes blazed with joyous excitement. She looked at
+Ginger yearningly, longing to forget a gentle upbringing and shout
+congratulation to him. She was proud of him. And mingled with the pride
+was a curious feeling that was almost fear. This was not the mild and
+amiable young man whom she was wont to mother through the difficulties
+of a world in which he was unfitted to struggle for himself. This was a
+new Ginger, a stranger to her.
+
+On the rare occasions on which he had been knocked down in the past, it
+had been Bugs Butler's canny practice to pause for a while and rest
+before rising and continuing the argument, but now he was up almost
+before he had touched the boards, and the satire of the second wise guy,
+who had begun to saw the air with his hand and count loudly, lost its
+point. It was only too plain that Mr. Butler's motto was that a man may
+be down, but he is never out. And, indeed, the knock-down had been
+largely a stumble. Bugs Butler's educated feet, which had carried him
+unscathed through so many contests, had for this single occasion managed
+to get themselves crossed just as Ginger's blow landed, and it was to
+his lack of balance rather than the force of the swing that his downfall
+had been due.
+
+"Time!" he snarled, casting a malevolent side-glance at his manager.
+"Like hell it's time!"
+
+And in a whirlwind of flying gloves he flung himself upon Ginger,
+driving him across the ring, while Mr. Burrowes, watch in hand, stared
+with dropping jaw. If Ginger had seemed a new Ginger to Sally, still
+more did this seem a new Bugs Butler to Mr. Burrowes, and the manager
+groaned in spirit. Coolness, skill and science--these had been the
+qualities in his protégé which had always so endeared him to Mr. Lester
+Burrowes and had so enriched their respective bank accounts: and now, on
+the eve of the most important fight in his life, before an audience of
+newspaper men, he had thrown them all aside and was making an exhibition
+of himself with a common sparring-partner.
+
+That was the bitter blow to Mr. Burrowes.  Had this lapse into the
+unscientific primitive happened in a regular fight, he might have
+mourned and poured reproof into Bug's ear when he got him back in his
+corner at the end of the round; but he would not have experienced this
+feeling of helpless horror--the sort of horror an elder of the church
+might feel if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the
+fascination of jazz. It was the fact that Bugs Butler was lowering
+himself to extend his powers against a sparring-partner that shocked Mr.
+Burrowes. There is an etiquette in these things. A champion may batter
+his sparring-partners into insensibility if he pleases, but he must do
+it with nonchalance. He must not appear to be really trying.
+
+And nothing could be more manifest than that Bugs Butler was trying.
+His whole fighting soul was in his efforts to corner Ginger and destroy
+him. The battle was raging across the ring and down the ring, and up the
+ring and back again; yet always Ginger, like a storm-driven ship,
+contrived somehow to weather the tempest. Out of the flurry of swinging
+arms he emerged time after time bruised, bleeding, but fighting hard.
+
+For Bugs Butler's fury was defeating its object.  Had he remained his
+cool and scientific self, he could have demolished Ginger and cut
+through his defence in a matter of seconds. But he had lapsed back into
+the methods of his unskilled novitiate. He swung and missed, swung and
+missed again, struck but found no vital spot. And now there was blood on
+his face, too. In some wild mêlée the sacred fount had been tapped, and
+his teeth gleamed through a crimson mist.
+
+The Wise Guys were beyond speech.  They were leaning against one
+another, punching each other feebly in the back. One was crying.
+
+And then suddenly the end came, as swiftly and unexpectedly as the
+thing had begun. His wild swings had tired Bugs Butler, and with fatigue
+prudence returned to him. His feet began once more their subtle weaving
+in and out. Twice his left hand flickered home. A quick feint, a short,
+jolting stab, and Ginger's guard was down and he was swaying in the
+middle of the ring, his hands hanging and his knees a-quiver.
+
+Bugs Butler measured his distance, and Sally shut her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+MR. ABRAHAMS RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringing
+happiness to others. Bugs Butler's mood, accordingly, when some thirty
+hours after the painful episode recorded in the last chapter he awoke
+from a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to discover that Mr. Lew
+Lucas had knocked him out in the middle of the third round, should have
+been one of quiet contentment. His inability to block a short left-hook
+followed by a right to the point of the jaw had ameliorated quite a
+number of existences.
+
+Mr. Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased.  So were Mr. Lucas's
+seconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him. And most of the crowd,
+who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted. Yet Bugs Butler
+did not rejoice. It is not too much to say that his peevish bearing
+struck a jarring note in the general gaiety. A heavy frown disfigured
+his face as he slouched from the ring.
+
+But the happiness which he had spread went on spreading.  The two Wise
+Guys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received the
+result on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer by
+five hundred dollars. The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd. caused remark in the Subway by whooping
+gleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for he, too, had
+been rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr. Butler's chin. And it
+was with fierce satisfaction that Sally, breakfasting in her little
+apartment, informed herself through the sporting page of the details of
+the contender's downfall. She was not a girl who disliked many people,
+but she had acquired a lively distaste for Bugs Butler.
+
+Lew Lucas seemed a man after her own heart.  If he had been a personal
+friend of Ginger's he could not, considering the brief time at his
+disposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness. In round one he had
+done all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler's left eye: in round
+two he had continued the good work on that gentleman's body; and in
+round three he had knocked him out. Could anyone have done more? Sally
+thought not, and she drank Lew Lucas's health in a cup of coffee and
+hoped his old mother was proud of him.
+
+The telephone bell rang at her elbow.  She unhooked the receiver.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+"Oh, hullo," said a voice.
+
+"Ginger!" cried Sally delightedly.
+
+"I say, I'm awfully glad you're back.  I only got your letter this
+morning. Found it at the boarding-house. I happened to look in there
+and..."
+
+"Ginger," interrupted Sally, "your voice is music, but I want to see
+you. Where are you?"
+
+"I'm at a chemist's shop across the street.  I was wondering if..."
+
+"Come here at once!"
+
+"I say, may I? I was just going to ask."
+
+"You miserable creature, why haven't you been round to see me before?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been going about much for the last
+day. You see..."
+
+"I know.  Of course." Quick sympathy came into Sally's voice.  She gave
+a sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the large picture of Lew
+Lucas which beamed up at her from the morning paper. "You poor thing!
+How are you?"
+
+"Oh, all right, thanks."
+
+"Well, hurry."
+
+There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.
+
+"I say."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I'm not much to look at, you know."
+
+"You never were.  Stop talking and hurry over."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+Sally hung up the receiver firmly.  She waited eagerly for some minutes,
+and then footsteps came along the passage. They stopped at her door and
+the bell rang. Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and recoiled in
+consternation.
+
+"Oh, Ginger!"
+
+He had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not much
+to look at. He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right eye,
+but the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull purple.
+A great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with some
+difficulty through swollen lips.
+
+"It's all right, you know," he assured her.
+
+"It isn't.  It's awful! Oh, you poor darling!" She clenched her teeth
+viciously. "I wish he had killed him!"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him.  Brute!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know, you know." Ginger's sense of fairness compelled him
+to defend his late employer against these harsh sentiments. "He isn't a
+bad sort of chap, really. Bugs Butler, I mean."
+
+"Do you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don't loathe the
+creature?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right.  See his point of view and all that.  Can't blame
+him, if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit in the
+circs. Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at him like
+that. Naturally he didn't think it much of a wheeze. It was my fault
+right along. Oughtn't to have done it, of course, but somehow, when he
+started making an ass of me and I knew you were looking on... well, it
+seemed a good idea to have a dash at doing something on my own. No right
+to, of course. A sparring-partner isn't supposed..."
+
+"Sit down," said Sally.
+
+Ginger sat down.
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "you're too good to live."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+"I believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chain
+you'd say there were faults on both sides or something. I'm just a cat,
+and I say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished miserably. I'd
+have gone and danced on his grave... But whatever made you go in for
+that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it seemed the only job that was going at the moment.  I've always
+done a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and it looked
+to me rather an opening. Gave me something to get along with. You get
+paid quite fairly decently, you know, and it's rather a jolly life..."
+
+"Jolly? Being hammered about like that?"
+
+"Oh, you don't notice it much.  I've always enjoyed scrapping rather.
+And, you see, when your brother gave me the push..."
+
+Sally uttered an exclamation.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing it is--I went all the way out to White
+Plains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and I
+didn't say a word about it. And I haven't seen or been able to get hold
+of him since."
+
+"No? Busy sort of cove, your brother."
+
+"Why did Fillmore let you go?"
+
+"Let me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up.  A kind of
+misunderstanding."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+"Oh, it was nothing.  Just a..."
+
+"What happened?"
+
+Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment.  He looked
+awkwardly about the room.
+
+"It's not worth talking about."
+
+"It is worth talking about.  I've a right to know.  It was I who sent
+you to Fillmore..."
+
+"Now that," said Ginger, "was jolly decent of you."
+
+"Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let
+you go without saying a word to me. What happened?"
+
+Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily.
+
+"Well, it was rather unfortunate.  You see, his wife--I don't know if
+you know her?..."
+
+"Of course I know her."
+
+"Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean," said
+Ginger acutely. "Though, as a matter of fact, you often find
+sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a
+fellow..."
+
+"Ginger," said Sally, "it's no good your thinking you can get out of
+telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and
+relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a
+corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying..."
+
+Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme.
+
+"Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling
+about..."
+
+"Fooling about?"
+
+"Well, kind of chivvying each other."
+
+"Chivvying?"
+
+"At least I was."
+
+"You were what?"
+
+"Sort of chasing her a bit, you know."
+
+Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Ginger's embarrassment increased.
+
+"The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when
+I happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was there
+till she suddenly grabbed it..."
+
+"Grabbed what?"
+
+"The thing.  The thing I happened to be looking at.  She bagged it...
+collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back
+and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy
+her to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened
+to roll in. I suppose," said Ginger, putting two and two together, "he
+had really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for
+a minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course,
+he was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his
+wife. Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it," said
+Ginger, ever fair-minded. "Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but
+a bit later in the day he called me in and administered the push."
+
+Sally shook her head.
+
+"It sounds the craziest story to me.  What was it that Mrs. Fillmore
+took from you?"
+
+"Oh, just something."
+
+Sally rapped the table imperiously.
+
+"Ginger!"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact," said her goaded visitor, "It was a
+photograph."
+
+"Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?"
+
+"Well... you, to be absolutely accurate."
+
+"Me?" Sally stared.  "But I've never given you a photograph of myself."
+
+Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple.
+
+"You didn't exactly give it to me," he mumbled.  "When I say give, I
+mean..."
+
+"Good gracious!" Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally.  "That photograph
+we were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen it all the
+time?"
+
+"Why, yes, I did sort of pinch it..."
+
+"You fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it." She
+gazed at him almost with respect. "I never knew you were so deep and
+snaky. I'm discovering all sorts of new things about you."
+
+There was a brief silence.  Ginger, confession over, seemed a trifle
+happier.
+
+"I hope you're not frightfully sick about it?" he said at length.  "It
+was lying about, you know, and I rather felt I must have it. Hadn't the
+cheek to ask you for it, so..."
+
+"Don't apologize," said Sally cordially.  "Great compliment.  So I have
+caused your downfall again, have I? I'm certainly your evil genius,
+Ginger. I'm beginning to feel like a regular rag and a bone and a hank
+of hair. First I egged you on to insult your family--oh, by the way, I
+want to thank you about that. Now that I've met your Uncle Donald I can
+see how public-spirited you were. I ruined your prospects there, and now
+my fatal beauty--cabinet size--has led to your destruction once more.
+It's certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that."
+
+"No, really, I say, you mustn't bother.  I shall be all right."
+
+"It's my duty.  Now what is there that you really can do? Burglary, of
+course, but it's not respectable. You've tried being a waiter and a
+prize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those seems to be just
+right. Can't you suggest anything?"
+
+Ginger shook his head.
+
+"I shall wangle something, I expect." '
+
+"Yes, but what? It must be something good this time.  I don't want to be
+walking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a street-cleaner. I
+don't want to send for an express-man and find you popping up. My idea
+would be to go to my bank to arrange an overdraft and be told the
+president could give me two minutes and crawl in humbly and find you
+prezzing away to beat the band in a big chair. Isn't there anything in
+the world that you can do that's solid and substantial and will keep you
+out of the poor-house in your old age? Think!"
+
+"Of course, if I had a bit of capital..."
+
+"Ah! The business man! And what," inquired Sally, "would you do, Mr.
+Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?"
+
+"Run a dog-thingummy," said Ginger promptly.
+
+"What's a dog-thingummy?"
+
+"Why, a thingamajig.  For dogs, you know."
+
+Sally nodded.
+
+"Oh, a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand.  You will put things so
+obscurely at first. Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving about?
+What on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?"
+
+"I mean a sort of place like fellows have.  Breeding dogs, you know, and
+selling them and winning prizes and all that. There are lots of them
+about."
+
+"Oh, a kennels?"
+
+"Yes, a kennels."
+
+"What a weird mind you have, Ginger.  You couldn't say kennels at first,
+could you? That wouldn't have made it difficult enough. I suppose, if
+anyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would say, 'Oh, at a
+thingamajig for mutton chops'... Ginger, my lad, there is something in
+this. I believe for the first time in our acquaintance you have spoken
+something very nearly resembling a mouthful. You're wonderful with dogs,
+aren't you?"
+
+"I'm dashed keen on them, and I've studied them a bit.  As a matter of
+fact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn't much about dogs
+that I don't know."
+
+"Of course.  I believe you're a sort of honorary dog yourself.  I could
+tell it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville. You plunged into a
+howling mass of about a million hounds of all species and just whispered
+in their ears and they stopped at once. Why, the more one examines this,
+the better it looks. I do believe it's the one thing you couldn't help
+making a success of. It's very paying, isn't it?"
+
+"Works out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I've been
+told."
+
+"A hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore's
+for comfort. Let's say ninety-nine and be conservative. Ginger, you have
+hit it. Say no more. You shall be the Dog King, the biggest
+thingamajigger for dogs in the country. But how do you start?"
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into a
+cove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out. That was what
+made me think of it."
+
+"You must start to-day.  Or early to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," said Ginger doubtfully.  "Of course, there's the catch, you
+know."
+
+"What catch?"
+
+"The capital.  You've got to have that.  This fellow wouldn't sell out
+under five thousand dollars."
+
+"I'll lend you five thousand dollars."
+
+"No!" said Ginger.
+
+Sally looked at him with exasperation.  "Ginger, I'd like to slap you,"
+she said. It was maddening, this intrusion of sentiment into business
+affairs. Why, simply because he was a man and she was a woman, should
+she be restrained from investing money in a sound commercial
+undertaking? If Columbus had taken up this bone-headed stand towards
+Queen Isabella, America would never have been discovered.
+
+"I can't take five thousand dollars off you," said Ginger firmly.
+
+"Who's talking of taking it off me, as you call it?" stormed Sally.
+"Can't you forget your burglarious career for a second? This isn't the
+same thing as going about stealing defenceless girls' photographs. This
+is business. I think you would make an enormous success of a dog-place,
+and you admit you're good, so why make frivolous objections? Why
+shouldn't I put money into a good thing? Don't you want me to get rich,
+or what is it?"
+
+Ginger was becoming confused.  Argument had never been his strong point.
+
+"But it's such a lot of money."
+
+"To you, perhaps.  Not to me.  I'm a plutocrat.  Five thousand dollars!
+What's five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds."
+
+Ginger pondered woodenly for a while.  His was a literal mind, and he
+knew nothing of Sally's finances beyond the fact that when he had first
+met her she had come into a legacy of some kind. Moreover, he had been
+hugely impressed by Fillmore's magnificence. It seemed plain enough
+that the Nicholases were a wealthy family.
+
+"I don't like it, you know," he said.
+
+"You don't have to like it," said Sally.  "You just do it."
+
+A consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.
+
+"You'd have to let me pay you interest."
+
+"Let you? My lad, you'll have to pay me interest.  What do you think
+this is--a round game? It's a cold business deal."
+
+"Topping!" said Ginger relieved.  "How about twenty-five per cent."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Sally quickly.  "I want three."
+
+"No, that's all rot," protested Ginger.  "I mean to say--three.  I
+don't," he went on, making a concession, "mind saying twenty."
+
+"If you insist, I'll make it five.  Not more."
+
+"Well, ten, then?"
+
+"Five!"
+
+"Suppose," said Ginger insinuatingly, "I said seven?"
+
+"I never saw anyone like you for haggling," said Sally with disapproval.
+"Listen! Six. And that's my last word."
+
+"Six?"
+
+"Six."
+
+Ginger did sums in his head.
+
+"But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year.  It isn't
+enough."
+
+"What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort of
+deal in my life. Six! Do you agree?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Then that's settled.  Is this man you talk about in New York?"
+
+"No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south shore."
+
+"I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book."
+
+"Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him
+up. Don't waste a minute."
+
+Ginger paused at the door.
+
+"I say, you're absolutely sure about this?'''
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I mean to say..."
+
+"Get on," said Sally.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street which,
+while not one of the city's important arteries, was capable,
+nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to the
+observer: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to
+the window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a third
+reading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It was
+a beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.
+
+She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped at
+the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her
+brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver,
+and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a large
+shadow in the sunshine. Sally was on the point of calling to him, when
+his behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.
+
+From where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practising
+the steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would do
+next kept Sally watching in silence. First, he moved in a resolute sort
+of way towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled back.
+This movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep thought
+before making another dash for the door, which, like the others, came to
+an abrupt end as though he had run into some invisible obstacle. And,
+finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off down the street and was lost
+to view.
+
+Sally could make nothing of it.  If Fillmore had taken the trouble to
+come in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned the
+idea at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mystery
+when the telephone-bell rang, and her brother's voice spoke huskily in
+her ear.
+
+"Sally?"
+
+"Hullo, Fill.  What are you going to call it?"
+
+"What am I... Call what?"
+
+"The dance you were doing outside here just now.  It's your own
+invention, isn't it?"
+
+"Did you see me?" said Fillmore, upset.
+
+"Of course I saw you.  I was fascinated."
+
+"I--er--I was coming to have a talk with you.  Sally..."
+
+Fillmore's voice trailed off.
+
+"Well, why didn't you?"
+
+There was a pause--on Fillmore's part, if the timbre of at his voice
+correctly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort. Something was
+plainly vexing Fillmore's great mind.
+
+"Sally," he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I--that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to see
+you very shortly. Will you be in?"
+
+"I'll stay in.  How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again."
+
+"She is very well.  A trifle--a little upset."
+
+"Upset? What about?"
+
+"She will tell you when she arrives.  I have just been 'phoning to her.
+She is coming at once." There was another pause. "I'm afraid she has bad
+news."
+
+"What news?"
+
+There was silence at the other end of the wire.
+
+"What news?" repeated Sally, a little sharply.  She hated mysteries.
+
+But Fillmore had rung off.  Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully.
+She was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gained
+by worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and
+tried to divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bell
+brought her out, to find her sister-in-law.
+
+Marriage, even though it had brought with it the lofty position of
+partnership with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no
+noticeable alteration in the former Miss Winch. As Mrs. Fillmore she was
+the same square, friendly creature. She hugged Sally in a muscular
+manner and went on in the sitting-room.
+
+"Well, it's great seeing you again," she said.  "I began to think you
+were never coming back. What was the big idea, springing over to England
+like that?"
+
+Sally had been expecting the question, and answered it with composure.
+
+"I wanted to help Mr. Faucitt."
+
+"Who's Mr. Faucitt?"
+
+"Hasn't Fillmore ever mentioned him? He was a dear old man at the
+boarding-house, and his brother died and left him a dressmaking
+establishment in London. He screamed to me to come and tell him what to
+do about it. He has sold it now and is quite happy in the country."
+
+"Well, the trip's done you good," said Mrs. Fillmore.  "You're prettier
+than ever."
+
+There was a pause.  Already, in these trivial opening exchanges, Sally
+had sensed a suggestion of unwonted gravity in her companion. She missed
+that careless whimsicality which had been the chief characteristic of
+Miss Gladys Winch and seemed to have been cast off by Mrs. Fillmore
+Nicholas. At their meeting, before she had spoken, Sally had not noticed
+this, but now it was apparent that something was weighing on her
+companion. Mrs. Fillmore's honest eyes were troubled.
+
+"What's the bad news?" asked Sally abruptly.  She wanted to end the
+suspense. "Fillmore was telling me over the 'phone that you had some bad
+news for me."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore scratched at the carpet for a moment with the end of her
+parasol without replying. When she spoke it was not in answer to the
+question.
+
+"Sally, who's this man Carmyle over in England?"
+
+"Oh, did Fillmore tell you about him?"
+
+"He told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
+you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him down."
+
+Sally's momentary annoyance faded.  She could hardly, she felt, have
+expected Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.
+
+"Yes," she said.  "That's true."
+
+"You couldn't write and say you've changed your mind?"
+
+Sally's annoyance returned.  All her life she had been intensely
+independent, resentful of interference with her private concerns.
+
+"I suppose I could if I had--but I haven't.  Did Fillmore tell you to
+try to talk me round?"
+
+"Oh, I'm not trying to talk you round," said Mrs. Fillmore quickly.
+"Goodness knows, I'm the last person to try and jolly anyone into
+marrying anybody if they didn't feel like it. I've seen too many
+marriages go wrong to do that. Look at Elsa Doland."
+
+Sally's heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.
+
+"Elsa?" she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook.
+"Has--has her marriage gone wrong?"
+
+"Gone all to bits," said Mrs. Fillmore shortly.  "You remember she
+married Gerald Foster, the man who wrote 'The Primrose Way'?"
+
+Sally with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.
+
+"Yes, I remember," she said.
+
+"Well, it's all gone bloo-ey.  I'll tell you about that in a minute.
+Coming back to this man in England, if you're in any doubt about it... I
+mean, you can't always tell right away whether you're fond of a man or
+not... When first I met Fillmore, I couldn't see him with a spy-glass,
+and now he's just the whole shooting-match... But that's not what I
+wanted to talk about. I was saying one doesn't always know one's own
+mind at first, and if this fellow really is a good fellow... and
+Fillmore tells me he's got all the money in the world..."
+
+Sally stopped her.
+
+"No, it's no good.  I don't want to marry Mr. Carmyle."
+
+"That's that, then," said Mrs. Fillmore.  "It's a pity, though."
+
+"Why are you taking it so much to heart?" said Sally with a nervous
+laugh.
+
+"Well..." Mrs. Fillmore paused.  Sally's anxiety was growing.  It must,
+she realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if it
+had the power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in her
+talk. "You see..." went on Mrs. Fillmore, and stopped again. "Gee! I'm
+hating this!" she murmured.
+
+"What is it? I don't understand."
+
+"You'll find it's all too darned clear by the time I'm through," said
+Mrs. Fillmore mournfully. "If I'm going to explain this thing, I guess
+I'd best start at the beginning. You remember that revue of
+Fillmore's--the one we both begged him not to put on. It flopped!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes.  It flopped on the road and died there.  Never got to New York at
+all. Ike Schumann wouldn't let Fillmore have a theatre. The book wanted
+fixing and the numbers wanted fixing and the scenery wasn't right: and
+while they were tinkering with all that there was trouble about the cast
+and the Actors Equity closed the show. Best thing that could have
+happened, really, and I was glad at the time, because going on with it
+would only have meant wasting more money, and it had cost a fortune
+already. After that Fillmore put on a play of Gerald Foster's and that
+was a frost, too. It ran a week at the Booth. I hear the new piece he's
+got in rehearsal now is no good either. It's called 'The Wild Rose,' or
+something. But Fillmore's got nothing to do with that."
+
+"But..." Sally tried to speak, but Mrs. Fillmore went on.
+
+"Don't talk just yet, or I shall never get this thing straight.  Well,
+you know Fillmore, poor darling. Anyone else would have pulled in his
+horns and gone slow for a spell, but he's one of those fellows whose
+horse is always going to win the next race. The big killing is always
+just round the corner with him. Funny how you can see what a chump a man
+is and yet love him to death... I remember saying something like that to
+you before... He thought he could get it all back by staging this fight
+of his that came off in Jersey City last night. And if everything had
+gone right he might have got afloat again. But it seems as if he can't
+touch anything without it turning to mud. On the very day before the
+fight was to come off, the poor mutt who was going against the champion
+goes and lets a sparring-partner of his own knock him down and fool
+around with him. With all the newspaper men there too! You probably saw
+about it in the papers. It made a great story for them. Well, that
+killed the whole thing. The public had never been any too sure that this
+fellow Bugs Butler had a chance of putting up a scrap with the champion
+that would be worth paying to see; and, when they read that he couldn't
+even stop his sparring-partners slamming him all around the place they
+simply decided to stay away. Poor old Fill! It was a finisher for him.
+The house wasn't a quarter full, and after he'd paid these two
+pluguglies their guarantees, which they insisted on having before they'd
+so much as go into the ring, he was just about cleaned out. So there you
+are!"
+
+Sally had listened with dismay to this catalogue of misfortunes.
+
+"Oh, poor Fill!" she cried.  "How dreadful!"
+
+"Pretty tough."
+
+"But 'The Primrose Way' is a big success, isn't it?" said Sally, anxious
+to discover something of brightness in the situation.
+
+"It was." Mrs. Fillmore flushed again.  "This is the part I hate having
+to tell you."
+
+"It was? Do you mean it isn't still? I thought Elsa had made such a
+tremendous hit. I read about it when I was over in London. It was even
+in one of the English papers."
+
+"Yes, she made a hit all right," said Mrs. Fillmore drily.  "She made
+such a hit that all the other managements in New York were after her
+right away, and Fillmore had hardly sailed when she handed in her notice
+and signed up with Goble and Cohn for a new piece they are starring her
+in."
+
+"Ah, she couldn't!" cried Sally.
+
+"My dear, she did! She's out on the road with it now.  I had to break
+the news to poor old Fillmore at the dock when he landed. It was rather
+a blow. I must say it wasn't what I would call playing the game. I know
+there isn't supposed to be any sentiment in business, but after all we
+had given Elsa her big chance. But Fillmore wouldn't put her name up
+over the theatre in electrics, and Goble and Cohn made it a clause in
+her contract that they would, so nothing else mattered. People are like
+that."
+
+"But Elsa... She used not to be like that."
+
+"They all get that way.  They must grab success if it's to be grabbed.
+I suppose you can't blame them. You might just as well expect a cat to
+keep off catnip. Still, she might have waited to the end of the New York
+run." Mrs. Fillmore put out her hand and touched Sally's. "Well, I've
+got it out now," she said, "and, believe me, it was one rotten job. You
+don't know how sorry I am. Sally. I wouldn't have had it happen for a
+million dollars. Nor would Fillmore. I'm not sure that I blame him for
+getting cold feet and backing out of telling you himself. He just hadn't
+the nerve to come and confess that he had fooled away your money. He was
+hoping all along that this fight would pan out big and that he'd be able
+to pay you back what you had loaned him, but things didn't happen
+right."
+
+Sally was silent.  She was thinking how strange it was that this room in
+which she had hoped to be so happy had been from the first moment of her
+occupancy a storm centre of bad news and miserable disillusionment. In
+this first shock of the tidings, it was the disillusionment that hurt
+most. She had always been so fond of Elsa, and Elsa had always seemed so
+fond of her. She remembered that letter of Elsa's with all its
+protestations of gratitude... It wasn't straight. It was horrible.
+Callous, selfish, altogether horrible...
+
+"It's..." She choked, as a rush of indignation brought the tears to her
+eyes. "It's... beastly! I'm... I'm not thinking about my money. That's
+just bad luck. But Elsa..."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore shrugged her square shoulders.
+
+"Well, it's happening all the time in the show business," she said.
+"And in every other business, too, I guess, if one only knew enough
+about them to be able to say. Of course, it hits you hard because Elsa
+was a pal of yours, and you're thinking she might have considered you
+after all you've done for her. I can't say I'm much surprised myself."
+Mrs. Fillmore was talking rapidly, and dimly Sally understood that she
+was talking so that talk would carry her over this bad moment. Silence
+now would have been unendurable. "I was in the company with her, and it
+sometimes seems to me as if you can't get to know a person right through
+till you've been in the same company with them. Elsa's all right, but
+she's two people really, like these dual identity cases you read about.
+She's awfully fond of you. I know she is. She was always saying so, and
+it was quite genuine. If it didn't interfere with business there's
+nothing she wouldn't do for you. But when it's a case of her career you
+don't count. Nobody counts. Not even her husband. Now that's funny. If
+you think that sort of thing funny. Personally, it gives me the
+willies."
+
+"What's funny?" asked Sally, dully.
+
+"Well, you weren't there, so you didn't see it, but I was on the spot
+all the time, and I know as well as I know anything that he simply
+married her because he thought she could get him on in the game. He
+hardly paid any attention to her at all till she was such a riot in
+Chicago, and then he was all over her. And now he's got stung. She
+throws down his show and goes off to another fellow's. It's like
+marrying for money and finding the girl hasn't any. And she's got stung,
+too, in a way, because I'm pretty sure she married him mostly because
+she thought he was going to be the next big man in the play-writing
+business and could boost her up the ladder. And now it doesn't look as
+though he had another success in him. The result is they're at outs. I
+hear he's drinking. Somebody who'd seen him told me he had gone all to
+pieces. You haven't seen him, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I thought maybe you might have run into him.  He lives right opposite."
+
+Sally clutched at the arm of her chair.
+
+"Lives right opposite? Gerald Foster? What do you mean?"
+
+"Across the passage there," said Mrs. Fillmore, jerking her thumb at the
+door. "Didn't you know? That's right, I suppose you didn't. They moved
+in after you had beaten it for England. Elsa wanted to be near you, and
+she was tickled to death when she found there was an apartment to be had
+right across from you. Now, that just proves what I was saying a while
+ago about Elsa. If she wasn't fond of you, would she go out of her way
+to camp next door? And yet, though she's so fond of you, she doesn't
+hesitate about wrecking your property by quitting the show when she
+sees a chance of doing herself a bit of good. It's funny, isn't it?"
+
+The telephone-bell, tinkling sharply, rescued Sally from the necessity
+of a reply. She forced herself across the room to answer it.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+Ginger's voice spoke jubilantly.
+
+"Hullo.  Are you there? I say, it's all right, about that binge, you
+know."
+
+"Oh, yes?"
+
+"That dog fellow, you know," said Ginger, with a slight diminution of
+exuberance. His sensitive ear had seemed to detect a lack of animation
+in her voice. "I've just been talking to him over the 'phone, and it's
+all settled. If," he added, with a touch of doubt, "you still feel like
+going into it, I mean."
+
+There was an instant in which Sally hesitated, but it was only an
+instant.
+
+"Why, of course," she said, steadily.  "Why should you think I had
+changed my mind?"
+
+"Well, I thought... that is to say, you seemed... oh, I don't know."
+
+"You imagine things.  I was a little worried about something when you
+called me up, and my mind wasn't working properly. Of course, go ahead
+with it. Ginger. I'm delighted."
+
+"I say, I'm awfully sorry you're worried."
+
+"Oh.  it's all right."
+
+"Something bad?"
+
+"Nothing that'll kill me.  I'm young and strong."
+
+Ginger was silent for a moment.
+
+"I say, I don't want to butt in, but can I do anything?"
+
+"No, really, Ginger, I know you would do anything you could, but this is
+just something I must worry through by myself. When do you go down to
+this place?"
+
+"I was thinking of popping down this afternoon, just to take a look
+round."
+
+"Let me know what train you're making and I'll come and see you off."
+
+"That's ripping of you.  Right ho.  Well, so long."
+
+"So long," said Sally.
+
+Mrs. Fillmore, who had been sitting in that state of suspended
+animation which comes upon people who are present at a telephone
+conversation which has nothing to do with themselves, came to life as
+Sally replaced the receiver.
+
+"Sally," she said, "I think we ought to have a talk now about what
+you're going to do."
+
+Sally was not feeling equal to any discussion of the future.   All she
+asked of the world at the moment was to be left alone.
+
+"Oh, that's all right.  I shall manage.  You ought to be worrying about
+Fillmore."
+
+"Fillmore's got me to look after him," said Gladys, with quiet
+determination. "You're the one that's on my mind. I lay awake all last
+night thinking about you. As far as I can make out from Fillmore, you've
+still a few thousand dollars left. Well, as it happens, I can put you on
+to a really good thing. I know a girl..."
+
+"I'm afraid," interrupted Sally, "all the rest of my money, what there
+is of it, is tied up."
+
+"You can't get hold of it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But listen," said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently.  "This is a really good
+thing. This girl I know started an interior decorating business some
+time ago and is pulling in the money in handfuls. But she wants more
+capital, and she's willing to let go of a third of the business to
+anyone who'll put in a few thousand. She won't have any difficulty
+getting it, but I 'phoned her this morning to hold off till I'd heard
+from you. Honestly, Sally, it's the chance of a lifetime. It would put
+you right on easy street. Isn't there really any way you could get your
+money out of this other thing and take on this deal?"
+
+"There really isn't.  I'm awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear, but it's
+impossible."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her
+parasol, "I don't know what you've gone into, but, unless they've given
+you a share in the Mint or something, you'll be losing by not making
+the switch. You're sure you can't do it?"
+
+"I really can't."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.
+
+"Well, you know best, of course.  Gosh! What a muddle everything is.
+Sally," she said, suddenly stopping at the door, "you're not going to
+hate poor old Fillmore over this, are you?"
+
+"Why, of course not.  The whole thing was just bad luck."
+
+"He's worried stiff about it."
+
+"Well, give him my love, and tell him not to be so silly."
+
+Mrs. Fillmore crossed the room and kissed Sally impulsively.
+
+"You're an angel," she said.  "I wish there were more like you.  But I
+guess they've lost the pattern. Well, I'll go back and tell Fillmore
+that. It'll relieve him."
+
+The door closed, and Sally sat down with her chin in her hands to think.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Mr. Isadore Abrahams, the founder and proprietor of that deservedly
+popular dancing resort poetically named "The Flower Garden," leaned back
+in his chair with a contented sigh and laid down the knife and fork with
+which he had been assailing a plateful of succulent goulash. He was
+dining, as was his admirable custom, in the bosom of his family at his
+residence at Far Rockaway. Across the table, his wife, Rebecca, beamed
+at him over her comfortable plinth of chins, and round the table his
+children, David, Jacob, Morris and Saide, would have beamed at him if
+they had not been too busy at the moment ingurgitating goulash. A
+genial, honest, domestic man was Mr. Abrahams, a credit to the
+community.
+
+"Mother," he said.
+
+"Pa?" said Mrs. Abrahams.
+
+"Knew there was something I'd meant to tell you," said Mr. Abrahams,
+absently chasing a piece of bread round his plate with a stout finger.
+"You remember that girl I told you about some time back--girl working at
+the Garden--girl called Nicholas, who came into a bit of money and
+threw up her job..."
+
+"I remember.  You liked her.  Jakie, dear, don't gobble."
+
+"Ain't gobbling," said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Everybody liked her," said Mr. Abrahams.  "The nicest girl I ever
+hired, and I don't hire none but nice girls, because the Garden's a nice
+place, and I like to run it nice. I wouldn't give you a nickel for any
+of your tough joints where you get nothing but low-lifes and scare away
+all the real folks. Everybody liked Sally Nicholas. Always pleasant and
+always smiling, and never anything but the lady. It was a treat to have
+her around. Well, what do you think?"
+
+"Dead?" inquired Mrs. Abrahams, apprehensively.  The story had sounded
+to her as though it were heading that way. "Wipe your mouth, Jakie
+dear."
+
+"No, not dead," said Mr. Abrahams, conscious for the first time that the
+remainder of his narrative might be considered by a critic something of
+an anti-climax and lacking in drama. "But she was in to see me this
+afternoon and wants her job back."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, rather tonelessly.  An ardent supporter of the
+local motion-picture palace, she had hoped for a slightly more gingery
+denouement, something with a bit more punch.
+
+"Yes, but don't it show you?" continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly trying
+to work up the interest. "There's this girl, goes out of my place not
+more'n a year ago, with a good bank-roll in her pocket, and here she is,
+back again, all of it spent. Don't it show you what a tragedy life is,
+if you see what I mean, and how careful one ought to be about money?
+It's what I call a human document. Goodness knows how she's been and
+gone and spent it all. I'd never have thought she was the sort of girl
+to go gadding around. Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible."
+
+"What's gadding, Pop?" asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
+chain his interest.
+
+"Well, she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
+back again. There's class to that girl. She's the sort of girl I want in
+the place. Don't seem quite to have so much get-up in her as she used
+to... seems kind of quieted down... but she's got class, and I'm glad
+she's back. I hope she'll stay. But don't it show you?"
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before.  It had not
+worked out such a bad story after all. In its essentials it was not
+unlike the film she had seen the previous evening--Gloria Gooch in "A
+Girl against the World."
+
+"Pop!" said Master Abrahams.
+
+"Yes, Jakie?"
+
+"When I'm grown up, I won't never lose no money.  I'll put it in the
+bank and save it."
+
+The slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally's troubles
+left Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.
+
+"That's a good boy, Jakie," he said.
+
+He felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and
+bent forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+
+UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND
+
+
+
+There is in certain men--and Bruce Carmyle was one of them--a quality of
+resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as
+effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and
+more practical kind. As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle resembled that durable
+type of pugilist who can only give of his best after he has received at
+least one substantial wallop on some tender spot. Although Sally had
+refused his offer of marriage quite definitely at Monk's Crofton, it
+had never occurred to him to consider the episode closed. All his life
+he had been accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he meant to get
+it now.
+
+He was quite sure that he wanted Sally.  There had been moments when he
+had been conscious of certain doubts, but in the smart of temporary
+defeat these had vanished. That streak of Bohemianism in her which from
+time to time since their first meeting had jarred upon his orderly mind
+was forgotten; and all that Mr. Carmyle could remember was the
+brightness of her eyes, the jaunty lift of her chin, and the gallant
+trimness of her. Her gay prettiness seemed to flick at him like a whip
+in the darkness of wakeful nights, lashing him to pursuit. And quietly
+and methodically, like a respectable wolf settling on the trail of a
+Red Riding Hood, he prepared to pursue. Delicacy and imagination might
+have kept him back, but in these qualities he had never been strong. One
+cannot have everything.
+
+His preparations for departure, though he did his best to make them
+swiftly and secretly, did not escape the notice of the Family. In many
+English families there seems to exist a system of inter-communication
+and news-distribution like that of those savage tribes in Africa who
+pass the latest item of news and interest from point to point over miles
+of intervening jungle by some telepathic method never properly
+explained. On his last night in London, there entered to Bruce Carmyle
+at his apartment in South Audley Street, the Family's chosen
+representative, the man to whom the Family pointed with pride--Uncle
+Donald, in the flesh.
+
+There were two hundred and forty pounds of the flesh Uncle Donald was
+in, and the chair in which he deposited it creaked beneath its burden.
+Once, at Monk's Crofton, Sally had spoiled a whole morning for her
+brother Fillmore, by indicating Uncle Donald as the exact image of what
+he would be when he grew up. A superstition, cherished from early
+schooldays, that he had a weak heart had caused the Family's managing
+director to abstain from every form of exercise for nearly fifty years;
+and, as he combined with a distaste for exercise one of the three
+heartiest appetites in the south-western postal division of London,
+Uncle Donald, at sixty-two, was not a man one would willingly have
+lounging in one's armchairs. Bruce Carmyle's customary respectfulness
+was tinged with something approaching dislike as he looked at him.
+
+Uncle Donald's walrus moustache heaved gently upon his laboured breath,
+like seaweed on a ground-swell. There had been stairs to climb.
+
+"What's this? What's this?" he contrived to ejaculate at last.  "You
+packing?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle, shortly.  For the first time in his life he was
+conscious of that sensation of furtive guilt which was habitual with his
+cousin Ginger when in the presence of this large, mackerel-eyed man.
+
+"You going away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where you going?"
+
+"America."
+
+"When you going?"
+
+"To-morrow morning."
+
+"Why you going?"
+
+This dialogue has been set down as though it had been as brisk and
+snappy as any cross-talk between vaudeville comedians, but in reality
+Uncle Donald's peculiar methods of conversation had stretched it over a
+period of nearly three minutes: for after each reply and before each
+question he had puffed and sighed and inhaled his moustache with such
+painful deliberation that his companion's nerves were finding it
+difficult to bear up under the strain.
+
+"You're going after that girl," said Uncle Donald, accusingly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle flushed darkly.  And it is interesting to record that at
+this moment there flitted through his mind the thought that Ginger's
+behaviour at Bleke's Coffee House, on a certain notable occasion, had
+not been so utterly inexcusable as he had supposed. There was no doubt
+that the Family's Chosen One could be trying.
+
+"Will you have a whisky and soda, Uncle Donald?" he said, by way of
+changing the conversation.
+
+"Yes," said his relative, in pursuance of a vow he had made in the early
+eighties never to refuse an offer of this kind. "Gimme!"
+
+You would have thought that that would have put matters on a pleasanter
+footing. But no. Having lapped up the restorative, Uncle Donald returned
+to the attack quite un-softened.
+
+"Never thought you were a fool before," he said severely.
+
+Bruce Carmyle's proud spirit chafed.  This sort of interview, which had
+become a commonplace with his cousin Ginger, was new to him. Hitherto,
+his actions had received neither criticism nor been subjected to it.
+
+"I'm not a fool."
+
+"You are a fool.  A damn fool," continued Uncle Donald, specifying more
+exactly. "Don't like the girl. Never did. Not a nice girl. Didn't like
+her. Right from the first."
+
+"Need we discuss this?" said Bruce Carmyle, dropping, as he was apt to
+do, into the grand manner.
+
+The Head of the Family drank in a layer of moustache and blew it out
+again.
+
+"Need we discuss it?" he said with asperity.  "We're going to discuss
+it! Whatch think I climbed all these blasted stairs for with my weak
+heart? Gimme another!"
+
+Mr. Carmyle gave him another.
+
+"'S a bad business," moaned Uncle Donald, having gone through the
+movements once more. "Shocking bad business. If your poor father were
+alive, whatch think he'd say to your tearing across the world after this
+girl? I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say... What kind of whisky's
+this?"
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"New to me.  Not bad.  Quite good.  Sound.  Mellow.  Wherej get it?"
+
+"Bilby's in Oxford Street."
+
+"Must order some.  Mellow.  He'd say... well, God knows what he'd say.
+Whatch doing it for? Whatch doing it for? That's what I can't see. None
+of us can see. Puzzles your uncle George. Baffles your aunt Geraldine.
+Nobody can understand it. Girl's simply after your money. Anyone can see
+that."
+
+"Pardon me, Uncle Donald," said Mr. Carmyle, stiffly, "but that is
+surely rather absurd. If that were the case, why should she have refused
+me at Monk's Crofton?"
+
+"Drawing you on," said Uncle Donald, promptly.  "Luring you on.
+Well-known trick. Girl in 1881, when I was at Oxford, tried to lure me
+on. If I hadn't had some sense and a weak heart... Whatch know of this
+girl? Whatch know of her? That's the point. Who is she? Wherej meet
+her?"
+
+"I met her at Roville, in France."
+
+"Travelling with her family?"
+
+"Travelling alone," said Bruce Carmyle, reluctantly.
+
+"Not even with that brother of hers? Bad!" said Uncle Donald.  "Bad,
+bad!"
+
+"American girls are accustomed to more independence than English girls."
+
+"That young man," said Uncle Donald, pursuing a train of thought, "is
+going to be fat one of these days, if he doesn't look out. Travelling
+alone, was she? What did you do? Catch her eye on the pier?"
+
+"Really, Uncle Donald!"
+
+"Well, must have got to know her somehow."
+
+"I was introduced to her by Lancelot.  She was a friend of his."
+
+"Lancelot!" exploded Uncle Donald, quivering all over like a smitten
+jelly at the loathed name. "Well, that shows you what sort of a girl she
+is. Any girl that would be a friend of... Unpack!"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Unpack! Mustn't go on with this foolery.  Out of the question.  Find
+some girl make you a good wife. Your aunt Mary's been meeting some
+people name of Bassington-Bassington, related Kent
+Bassington-Bassingtons... eldest daughter charming girl, just do for
+you."
+
+Outside the pages of the more old-fashioned type of fiction nobody ever
+really ground his teeth, but Bruce Carmyle came nearer to it at that
+moment than anyone had ever come before. He scowled blackly, and the
+last trace of suavity left him.
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind," he said briefly.  "I sail to-morrow."
+
+Uncle Donald had had a previous experience of being defied by a nephew,
+but it had not accustomed him to the sensation. He was aware of an
+unpleasant feeling of impotence. Nothing is harder than to know what to
+do next when defied.
+
+"Eh?" he said.
+
+Mr. Carmyle having started to defy, evidently decided to make a good job
+of it.
+
+"I am over twenty-one," said he.  "I am financially independent.  I
+shall do as I please."
+
+"But, consider!" pleaded Uncle Donald, painfully conscious of the
+weakness of his words. "Reflect!"
+
+"I have reflected."
+
+"Your position in the county..."
+
+"I've thought of that."
+
+"You could marry anyone you pleased."
+
+"I'm going to."
+
+"You are determined to go running off to God-knows-where after this Miss
+I-can't-even-remember-her-dam-name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you considered," said Uncle Donald, portentously, "that you owe a
+duty to the Family."
+
+Bruce Carmyle's patience snapped and he sank like a stone to absolutely
+Gingerian depths of plain-spokenness.
+
+"Oh, damn the Family!" he cried.
+
+There was a painful silence, broken only by the relieved sigh of the
+armchair as Uncle Donald heaved himself out of it.
+
+"After that," said Uncle Donald, "I have nothing more to say."
+
+"Good!" said Mr. Carmyle rudely, lost to all shame.
+
+"'Cept this.  If you come back married to that girl, I'll cut you in
+Piccadilly. By George, I will!"
+
+He moved to the door.  Bruce Carmyle looked down his nose without
+speaking. A tense moment.
+
+"What," asked Uncle Donald, his fingers on the handle, "did you say it
+was called?"
+
+"What was what called?"
+
+"That whisky."
+
+"O'Rafferty Special."
+
+"And wherj get it?"
+
+"Bilby's, in Oxford Street."
+
+"I'll make a note of it," said Uncle Donald.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+
+AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+"And after all I've done for her," said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, his
+voice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combined
+effects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock,
+"after all I've done for her she throws me down."
+
+Sally did not reply.  The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of a
+calibre that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having,
+moreover, too much difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell's
+erratic dance-steps to employ her attention elsewhere. They manoeuvred
+jerkily past the table where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower Garden's
+newest "hostess," sat watching the revels with a distant hauteur. Miss
+Hobson was looking her most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowful
+gulp escaped the stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.
+
+"If I told you," he moaned in Sally's ear, "what... was that your ankle?
+Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I had
+spent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws me
+down. And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn't
+spoken to me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone.
+And I was right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. But
+that," said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, "is a woman all over!"
+
+Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on
+hers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpreted
+the ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his last
+remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.
+
+"I don't mean you're like that," he said.  "You're different.  I could
+see that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's why
+I'm telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl and
+can understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this job
+as hostess here--you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred her
+in a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave her
+those. And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. I
+wish you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know,
+because you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. I
+don't know what to do. I come here every night." Sally was aware of
+this. She had seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee
+Schoenstein, the gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him on
+her. "I come here every night and dance past her table, but she won't
+look at me. What," asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes,
+"would you do about it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Sally, frankly.
+
+"Nor do I.  I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,
+broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, if
+you can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?" pleaded Mr.
+Cracknell, urgently. "But I know you won't because you're a sensible...
+I'm giving her a little present. Having it brought here to-night. Little
+present. That ought to soften her, don't you think?"
+
+"A big one would do it better."
+
+Mr. Cracknell kicked her on the shin in a dismayed sort of way.
+
+"I never thought of that.  Perhaps you're right.  But it's too late now.
+Still, it might. Or wouldn't it? Which do you think?"
+
+"Yes," said Sally.
+
+"I thought as much," said Mr. Cracknell.
+
+The orchestra stopped with a thump and a bang, leaving Mr. Cracknell
+clapping feebly in the middle of the floor. Sally slipped back to her
+table. Her late partner, after an uncertain glance about him, as if he
+had mislaid something but could not remember what, zigzagged off in
+search of his own seat. The noise of many conversations, drowned by the
+music, broke out with renewed vigour. The hot, close air was full of
+voices; and Sally, pressing her hands on her closed eyes, was reminded
+once more that she had a headache.
+
+Nearly a month had passed since her return to Mr. Abrahams' employment.
+It had been a dull, leaden month, a monotonous succession of lifeless
+days during which life had become a bad dream. In some strange nightmare
+fashion, she seemed nowadays to be cut off from her kind. It was weeks
+since she had seen a familiar face. None of the companions of her old
+boarding-house days had crossed her path. Fillmore, no doubt from
+uneasiness of conscience, had not sought her out, and Ginger was working
+out his destiny on the south shore of Long Island.
+
+She lowered her hands and opened her eyes and looked at the room.  It
+was crowded, as always. The Flower Garden was one of the many
+establishments of the same kind which had swum to popularity on the
+rising flood of New York's dancing craze; and doubtless because, as its
+proprietor had claimed, it was a nice place and run nice, it had
+continued, unlike many of its rivals, to enjoy unvarying prosperity. In
+its advertisement, it described itself as "a supper-club for
+after-theatre dining and dancing," adding that "large and spacious, and
+sumptuously appointed," it was "one of the town's wonder-places, with
+its incomparable dance-floor, enchanting music, cuisine, and service de
+luxe." From which it may be gathered, even without his personal
+statements to that effect, that Isadore Abrahams thought well of the
+place.
+
+There had been a time when Sally had liked it, too.  In her first period
+of employment there she had found it diverting, stimulating and full of
+entertainment. But in those days she had never had headaches or, what
+was worse, this dreadful listless depression which weighed her down and
+made her nightly work a burden.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+The orchestra, never silent for long at the Flower Garden, had started
+again, and Lee Schoenstein, the master of ceremonies, was presenting a
+new partner. She got up mechanically.
+
+"This is the first time I have been in this place," said the man, as
+they bumped over the crowded floor. He was big and clumsy, of course.
+To-night it seemed to Sally that the whole world was big and clumsy.
+"It's a swell place. I come from up-state myself. We got nothing like
+this where I come from." He cleared a space before him, using Sally as a
+battering-ram, and Sally, though she had not enjoyed her recent
+excursion with Mr. Cracknell, now began to look back to it almost with
+wistfulness. This man was undoubtedly the worst dancer in America.
+
+"Give me li'l old New York," said the man from up-state,
+unpatriotically. "It's good enough for me. I been to some swell shows
+since I got to town. You seen this year's 'Follies'?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You go," said the man earnestly.  "You go! Take it from me, it's a
+swell show. You seen 'Myrtle takes a Turkish Bath'?"
+
+"I don't go to many theatres."
+
+"You go! It's a scream.  I been to a show every night since I got here.
+Every night regular. Swell shows all of 'em, except this last one. I
+cert'nly picked a lemon to-night all right. I was taking a chance,
+y'see, because it was an opening. Thought it would be something to say,
+when I got home, that I'd been to a New York opening. Set me back
+two-seventy-five, including tax, and I wish I'd got it in my kick right
+now. 'The Wild Rose,' they called it," he said satirically, as if
+exposing a low subterfuge on the part of the management. "'The Wild
+Rose!' It sure made me wild all right. Two dollars seventy-five tossed
+away, just like that."
+
+Something stirred in Sally's memory.  Why did that title seem so
+familiar? Then, with a shock, she remembered. It was Gerald's new play.
+For some time after her return to New York, she had been haunted by the
+fear lest, coming out other apartment, she might meet him coming out of
+his; and then she had seen a paragraph in her morning paper which had
+relieved her of this apprehension. Gerald was out on the road with a new
+play, and "The Wild Rose," she was almost sure, was the name of it.
+
+"Is that Gerald Foster's play?" she asked quickly.
+
+"I don't know who wrote it," said her partner, "but let me tell you he's
+one lucky guy to get away alive. There's fellows breaking stones on the
+Ossining Road that's done a lot less to deserve a sentence. Wild Rose!
+I'll tell the world it made me go good and wild," said the man from
+up-state, an economical soul who disliked waste and was accustomed to
+spread out his humorous efforts so as to give them every chance. "Why,
+before the second act was over, the people were beating it for the
+exits, and if it hadn't been for someone shouting 'Women and children
+first' there'd have been a panic."
+
+Sally found herself back at her table without knowing clearly how she
+had got there.
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+She started to rise, and was aware suddenly that this was not the voice
+of duty calling her once more through the gold teeth of Mr. Schoenstein.
+The man who had spoken her name had seated himself beside her, and was
+talking in precise, clipped accents, oddly familiar. The mist cleared
+from her eyes and she recognized Bruce Carmyle.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+"I called at your place," Mr. Carmyle was saying, "and the hall porter
+told me that you were here, so I ventured to follow you. I hope you do
+not mind? May I smoke?"
+
+He lit a cigarette with something of an air.  His fingers trembled as he
+raised the match, but he flattered himself that there was nothing else
+in his demeanour to indicate that he was violently excited. Bruce
+Carmyle's ideal was the strong man who can rise superior to his
+emotions. He was alive to the fact that this was an embarrassing moment,
+but he was determined not to show that he appreciated it. He cast a
+sideways glance at Sally, and thought that never, not even in the garden
+at Monk's Crofton on a certain momentous occasion, had he seen her
+looking prettier. Her face was flushed and her eyes aflame. The stout
+wraith of Uncle Donald, which had accompanied Mr. Carmyle on this
+expedition of his, faded into nothingness as he gazed.
+
+There was a pause.  Mr. Carmyle, having lighted his cigarette, puffed
+vigorously.
+
+"When did you land?" asked Sally, feeling the need of saying something.
+Her mind was confused. She could not have said whether she was glad or
+sorry that he was there. Glad, she thought, on the whole. There was
+something in his dark, cool, stiff English aspect that gave her a
+curious feeling of relief. He was so unlike Mr. Cracknell and the man
+from up-state and so calmly remote from the feverish atmosphere in
+which she lived her nights that it was restful to look at him.
+
+"I landed to-night," said Bruce Carmyle, turning and faced her squarely.
+
+"To-night!"
+
+"We docked at ten."
+
+He turned away again.  He had made his effect, and was content to leave
+her to think it over.
+
+Sally was silent.  The significance of his words had not escaped her.
+She realized that his presence there was a challenge which she must
+answer. And yet it hardly stirred her. She had been fighting so long,
+and she felt utterly inert. She was like a swimmer who can battle no
+longer and prepares to yield to the numbness of exhaustion. The heat of
+the room pressed down on her like a smothering blanket. Her tired nerves
+cried out under the blare of music and the clatter of voices.
+
+"Shall we dance this?" he asked.
+
+The orchestra had started to play again, a sensuous, creamy melody which
+was making the most of its brief reign as Broadway's leading song-hit,
+overfamiliar to her from a hundred repetitions.
+
+"If you like."
+
+Efficiency was Bruce Carmyle's gospel.  He was one of these men who do
+not attempt anything which they cannot accomplish to perfection.
+Dancing, he had decided early in his life, was a part of a gentleman's
+education, and he had seen to it that he was educated thoroughly. Sally,
+who, as they swept out on to the floor, had braced herself automatically
+for a repetition of the usual bumping struggle which dancing at the
+Flower Garden had come to mean for her, found herself in the arms of a
+masterful expert, a man who danced better than she did, and suddenly
+there came to her a feeling that was almost gratitude, a miraculous
+slackening of her taut nerves, a delicious peace. Soothed and
+contented, she yielded herself with eyes half closed to the rhythm of
+the melody, finding it now robbed in some mysterious manner of all its
+stale cheapness, and in that moment her whole attitude towards Bruce
+Carmyle underwent a complete change.
+
+She had never troubled to examine with any minuteness her feelings
+towards him: but one thing she had known clearly since their first
+meeting--that he was physically distasteful to her. For all his good
+looks, and in his rather sinister way he was a handsome man, she had
+shrunk from him. Now, spirited away by the magic of the dance, that
+repugnance had left her. It was as if some barrier had been broken down
+between them.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+She felt his arm tighten about her, the muscles quivering.  She caught
+sight of his face. His dark eyes suddenly blazed into hers and she
+stumbled with an odd feeling of helplessness; realizing with a shock
+that brought her with a jerk out of the half-dream into which she had
+been lulled that this dance had not postponed the moment of decision, as
+she had looked to it to do. In a hot whisper, the words swept away on
+the flood of the music which had suddenly become raucous and blaring
+once more, he was repeating what he had said under the trees at Monk's
+Crofton on that far-off morning in the English springtime. Dizzily she
+knew that she was resenting the unfairness of the attack at such a
+moment, but her mind seemed numbed.
+
+The music stopped abruptly.  Insistent clapping started it again, but
+Sally moved away to her table, and he followed her like a shadow.
+Neither spoke. Bruce Carmyle had said his say, and Sally was sitting
+staring before her, trying to think. She was tired, tired. Her eyes were
+burning. She tried to force herself to face the situation squarely. Was
+it worth struggling? Was anything in the world worth a struggle? She
+only knew that she was tired, desperately tired, tired to the very
+depths of her soul.
+
+The music stopped.  There was more clapping, but this time the orchestra
+did not respond. Gradually the floor emptied. The shuffling of feet
+ceased. The Flower Garden was as quiet as it was ever able to be. Even
+the voices of the babblers seemed strangely hushed. Sally closed her
+eyes, and as she did so from somewhere up near the roof there came the
+song of a bird.
+
+Isadore Abrahams was a man of his word.  He advertised a Flower Garden,
+and he had tried to give the public something as closely resembling a
+flower-garden as it was possible for an overcrowded, overheated,
+overnoisy Broadway dancing-resort to achieve. Paper roses festooned the
+walls; genuine tulips bloomed in tubs by every pillar; and from the roof
+hung cages with birds in them. One of these, stirred by the sudden
+cessation of the tumult below, had began to sing.
+
+Sally had often pitied these birds, and more than once had pleaded in
+vain with Abrahams for a remission of their sentence, but somehow at
+this moment it did not occur to her that this one was merely praying in
+its own language, as she often had prayed in her thoughts, to be taken
+out of this place. To her, sitting there wrestling with Fate, the song
+seemed cheerful. It soothed her. It healed her to listen to it. And
+suddenly before her eyes there rose a vision of Monk's Crofton, cool,
+green, and peaceful under the mild English sun, luring her as an oasis
+seen in the distance lures the desert traveller ...
+
+She became aware that the master of Monk's Crofton had placed his hand
+on hers and was holding it in a tightening grip. She looked down and
+gave a little shiver. She had always disliked Bruce Carmyle's hands.
+They were strong and bony and black hair grew on the back of them. One
+of the earliest feelings regarding him had been that she would hate to
+have those hands touching her. But she did not move. Again that vision
+of the old garden had flickered across her mind... a haven where she
+could rest...
+
+He was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear.  The room was hotter
+than it had ever been, noisier than it had ever been, fuller than it had
+ever been. The bird on the roof was singing again and now she understood
+what it said. "Take me out of this!" Did anything matter except that?
+What did it matter how one was taken, or where, or by whom, so that one
+was taken.
+
+Monk's Crofton was looking cool and green and peaceful...
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+3
+
+
+
+Bruce Carmyle, in the capacity of accepted suitor, found himself at
+something of a loss. He had a dissatisfied feeling. It was not the
+manner of Sally's acceptance that caused this. It would, of course, have
+pleased him better if she had shown more warmth, but he was prepared to
+wait for warmth. What did trouble him was the fact that his correct mind
+perceived now for the first time that he had chosen an unsuitable
+moment and place for his outburst of emotion. He belonged to the
+orthodox school of thought which looks on moonlight and solitude as the
+proper setting for a proposal of marriage; and the surroundings of the
+Flower Garden, for all its nice-ness and the nice manner in which it was
+conducted, jarred upon him profoundly.
+
+Music had begun again, but it was not the soft music such as a lover
+demands if he is to give of his best. It was a brassy, clashy rendering
+of a ribald one-step, enough to choke the eloquence of the most ardent.
+Couples were dipping and swaying and bumping into one another as far as
+the eye could reach; while just behind him two waiters had halted in
+order to thrash out one of those voluble arguments in which waiters love
+to indulge. To continue the scene at the proper emotional level was
+impossible, and Bruce Carmyle began his career as an engaged man by
+dropping into Smalltalk.
+
+"Deuce of a lot of noise," he said querulously.
+
+"Yes," agreed Sally.
+
+"Is it always like this?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Infernal racket!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The romantic side of Mr. Carmyle's nature could have cried aloud at the
+hideous unworthiness of these banalities. In the visions which he had
+had of himself as a successful wooer, it had always been in the moments
+immediately succeeding the all-important question and its whispered
+reply that he had come out particularly strong. He had been accustomed
+to picture himself bending with a proud tenderness over his partner in
+the scene and murmuring some notably good things to her bowed head. How
+could any man murmur in a pandemonium like this. From tenderness Bruce
+Carmyle descended with a sharp swoop to irritability.
+
+"Do you often come here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To dance."
+
+Mr. Carmyle chafed helplessly.  The scene, which should be so romantic,
+had suddenly reminded him of the occasion when, at the age of twenty, he
+had attended his first ball and had sat in a corner behind a potted palm
+perspiring shyly and endeavouring to make conversation to a formidable
+nymph in pink. It was one of the few occasions in his life at which he
+had ever been at a complete disadvantage. He could still remember the
+clammy discomfort of his too high collar as it melted on him. Most
+certainly it was not a scene which he enjoyed recalling; and that he
+should be forced to recall it now, at what ought to have been the
+supreme moment of his life, annoyed him intensely. Almost angrily he
+endeavoured to jerk the conversation to a higher level.
+
+"Darling," he murmured, for by moving his chair two feet to the right
+and bending sideways he found that he was in a position to murmur, "you
+have made me so..."
+
+"Batti, batti! I presto ravioli hollandaise," cried one of the disputing
+waiters at his back--or to Bruce Carmyle's prejudiced hearing it
+sounded like that.
+
+"La Donna e mobile spaghetti napoli Tettrazina," rejoined the second
+waiter with spirit.
+
+"... you have made me so..."
+
+"Infanta Isabella lope de Vegas mulligatawny Toronto," said the first
+waiter, weak but coming back pluckily.
+
+"... so happy..."
+
+"Funiculi funicula Vincente y Blasco Ibanez vermicelli sul campo della
+gloria risotto!" said the second waiter clinchingly, and scored a
+technical knockout.
+
+Bruce Carmyle gave it up, and lit a moody cigarette.  He was oppressed
+by that feeling which so many of us have felt in our time, that it was
+all wrong.
+
+The music stopped.  The two leading citizens of Little Italy vanished
+and went their way, probably to start a vendetta. There followed
+comparative calm. But Bruce Carmyle's emotions, like sweet bells
+jangled, were out of tune, and he could not recapture the first fine
+careless rapture. He found nothing within him but small-talk.
+
+"What has become of your party?" he asked.
+
+"My party?"
+
+"The people you are with," said Mr. Carmyle.  Even in the stress of his
+emotion this problem had been exercising him. In his correctly ordered
+world girls did not go to restaurants alone.
+
+"I'm not with anybody."
+
+"You came here by yourself?" exclaimed Bruce Carmyle, frankly aghast.
+And, as he spoke, the wraith of Uncle Donald, banished till now,
+returned as large as ever, puffing disapproval through a walrus
+moustache.
+
+"I am employed here," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle started violently.
+
+"Employed here?"
+
+"As a dancer, you know.  I..."
+
+Sally broke off, her attention abruptly diverted to something which had
+just caught her eye at a table on the other side of the room. That
+something was a red-headed young man of sturdy build who had just
+appeared beside the chair in which Mr. Reginald Cracknell was sitting in
+huddled gloom. In one hand he carried a basket, and from this basket,
+rising above the din of conversation, there came a sudden sharp yapping.
+Mr. Cracknell roused himself from his stupor, took the basket, raised
+the lid. The yapping increased in volume.
+
+Mr. Cracknell rose, the basket in his arms.  With uncertain steps and a
+look on his face like that of those who lead forlorn hopes he crossed
+the floor to where Miss Mabel Hobson sat, proud and aloof. The next
+moment that haughty lady, the centre of an admiring and curious crowd,
+was hugging to her bosom a protesting Pekingese puppy, and Mr.
+Cracknell, seizing his opportunity like a good general, had deposited
+himself in a chair at her side. The course of true love was running
+smooth again.
+
+The red-headed young man was gazing fixedly at Sally.
+
+"As a dancer!" ejaculated Mr. Carmyle.  Of all those within sight of the
+moving drama which had just taken place, he alone had paid no attention
+to it. Replete as it was with human interest, sex-appeal, the punch, and
+all the other qualities which a drama should possess, it had failed to
+grip him. His thoughts had been elsewhere. The accusing figure of Uncle
+Donald refused to vanish from his mental eye. The stern voice of Uncle
+Donald seemed still to ring in his ear.
+
+A dancer! A professional dancer at a Broadway restaurant! Hideous doubts
+began to creep like snakes into Bruce Carmyle's mind. What, he asked
+himself, did he really know of this girl on whom he had bestowed the
+priceless boon of his society for life? How did he know what she was--he
+could not find the exact adjective to express his meaning, but he knew
+what he meant. Was she worthy of the boon? That was what it amounted to.
+All his life he had had a prim shrinking from the section of the
+feminine world which is connected with the light-life of large cities.
+Club acquaintances of his in London had from time to time married into
+the Gaiety Chorus, and Mr. Carmyle, though he had no objection to the
+Gaiety Chorus in its proper place--on the other side of the
+footlights--had always looked on these young men after as social
+outcasts. The fine dashing frenzy which had brought him all the way from
+South Audley Street to win Sally was ebbing fast.
+
+Sally, hearing him speak, had turned.  And there was a candid honesty in
+her gaze which for a moment sent all those creeping doubts scuttling
+away into the darkness whence they had come. He had not made a fool of
+himself, he protested to the lowering phantom of Uncle Donald. Who, he
+demanded, could look at Sally and think for an instant that she was not
+all that was perfect and lovable? A warm revulsion of feeling swept over
+Bruce Carmyle like a returning tide.
+
+"You see, I lost my money and had to do something," said Sally.
+
+"I see, I see," murmured Mr. Carmyle; and if only Fate had left him
+alone who knows to what heights of tenderness he might not have soared?
+But at this moment Fate, being no respecter of persons, sent into his
+life the disturbing personality of George Washington Williams.
+
+George Washington Williams was the talented coloured gentleman who had
+been extracted from small-time vaudeville by Mr. Abrahams to do a
+nightly speciality at the Flower Garden. He was, in fact, a
+trap-drummer: and it was his amiable practice, after he had done a few
+minutes trap-drumming, to rise from his seat and make a circular tour of
+the tables on the edge of the dancing-floor, whimsically pretending to
+clip the locks of the male patrons with a pair of drumsticks held
+scissor-wise. And so it came about that, just as Mr. Carmyle was bending
+towards Sally in an access of manly sentiment, and was on the very verge
+of pouring out his soul in a series of well-phrased remarks, he was
+surprised and annoyed to find an Ethiopian to whom he had never been
+introduced leaning over him and taking quite unpardonable liberties with
+his back hair.
+
+One says that Mr. Carmyle was annoyed.  The word is weak.  The
+interruption coming at such a moment jarred every ganglion in his body.
+The clicking noise of the drumsticks maddened him. And the gleaming
+whiteness of Mr. Williams' friendly and benignant smile was the last
+straw. His dignity writhed beneath this abominable infliction. People at
+other tables were laughing. At him. A loathing for the Flower Garden
+flowed over Bruce Carmyle, and with it a feeling of suspicion and
+disapproval of everyone connected with the establishment. He sprang to
+his feet.
+
+"I think I will be going," he said.
+
+Sally did not reply.  She was watching Ginger, who still stood beside
+the table recently vacated by Reginald Cracknell .
+
+"Good night," said Mr. Carmyle between his teeth.
+
+"Oh, are you going?" said Sally with a start.  She felt embarrassed.
+Try as she would, she was unable to find words of any intimacy. She
+tried to realize that she had promised to marry this man, but never
+before had he seemed so much a stranger to her, so little a part of her
+life. It came to her with a sensation of the incredible that she had
+done this thing, taken this irrevocable step.
+
+The sudden sight of Ginger had shaken her.  It was as though in the last
+half-hour she had forgotten him and only now realized what marriage with
+Bruce Carmyle would mean to their comradeship. From now on he was dead
+to her. If anything in this world was certain that was. Sally Nicholas
+was Ginger's pal, but Mrs. Carmyle, she realized, would never be allowed
+to see him again. A devastating feeling of loss smote her like a blow.
+
+"Yes, I've had enough of this place," Bruce Carmyle was saying.
+
+"Good night," said Sally.  She hesitated.  "When shall I see you?" she
+asked awkwardly.
+
+It occurred to Bruce Carmyle that he was not showing himself at his
+best. He had, he perceived, allowed his nerves to run away with him.
+
+"You don't mind if I go?" he said more amiably.  "The fact is, I can't
+stand this place any longer. I'll tell you one thing, I'm going to take
+you out of here quick."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't leave at a moment's notice," said Sally, loyal to
+her obligations.
+
+"We'll talk over that to-morrow.  I'll call for you in the morning and
+take you for a drive somewhere in a car. You want some fresh air after
+this." Mr. Carmyle looked about him in stiff disgust, and expressed his
+unalterable sentiments concerning the Flower Garden, that apple of
+Isadore Abrahams' eye, in a snort of loathing. "My God! What a place!"
+
+He walked quickly away and disappeared.  And Ginger, beaming happily,
+swooped on Sally's table like a homing pigeon.
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+
+"Good Lord, I say, what ho!" cried Ginger.  "Fancy meeting you here.
+What a bit of luck!" He glanced over his shoulder warily. "Has that
+blighter pipped?"
+
+"Pipped?"
+
+"Popped," explained Ginger.  "I mean to say, he isn't coming back or any
+rot like that, is he?"
+
+"Mr. Carmyle? No, he has gone."
+
+"Sound egg!" said Ginger with satisfaction.  "For a moment, when I saw
+you yarning away together, I thought he might be with your party. What
+on earth is he doing over here at all, confound him? He's got all Europe
+to play about in, why should he come infesting New York? I say, it
+really is ripping, seeing you again. It seems years... Of course, one
+get's a certain amount of satisfaction writing letters, but it's not the
+same. Besides, I write such rotten letters. I say, this really is rather
+priceless. Can't I get you something? A cup of coffee, I mean, or an egg
+or something? By jove! this really is top-hole."
+
+His homely, honest face glowed with pleasure, and it seemed to Sally as
+though she had come out of a winter's night into a warm friendly room.
+Her mercurial spirits soared.
+
+"Oh, Ginger! If you knew what it's like seeing you!"
+
+"No, really? Do you mean, honestly, you're braced?"
+
+"I should say I am braced."
+
+"Well, isn't that fine! I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"Forgotten you!"
+
+With something of the effect of a revelation it suddenly struck Sally
+how far she had been from forgetting him, how large was the place he had
+occupied in her thoughts.
+
+"I've missed you dreadfully," she said, and felt the words inadequate as
+she uttered them.
+
+"What ho!" said Ginger, also internally condemning the poverty of speech
+as a vehicle for conveying thought.
+
+There was a brief silence.  The first exhilaration of the reunion over,
+Sally deep down in her heart was aware of a troubled feeling as though
+the world were out of joint. She forced herself to ignore it, but it
+would not be ignored. It grew. Dimly she was beginning to realize what
+Ginger meant to her, and she fought to keep herself from realizing it.
+Strange things were happening to her to-night, strange emotions stirring
+her. Ginger seemed somehow different, as if she were really seeing him
+for the first time.
+
+"You're looking wonderfully well," she said trying to keep the
+conversation on a pedestrian level.
+
+"I am well," said Ginger.  "Never felt fitter in my life.  Been out in
+the open all day long... simple life and all that... working like
+blazes. I say, business is booming. Did you see me just now, handing
+over Percy the Pup to what's-his-name? Five hundred dollars on that one
+deal. Got the cheque in my pocket. But what an extraordinarily rummy
+thing that I should have come to this place to deliver the goods just
+when you happened to be here. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. I
+say, I hope the people you're with won't think I'm butting in. You'll
+have to explain that we're old pals and that you started me in business
+and all that sort of thing. Look here," he said lowering his voice, "I
+know how you hate being thanked, but I simply must say how terrifically
+decent..."
+
+"Miss Nicholas."
+
+Lee Schoenstein was standing at the table, and by his side an expectant
+youth with a small moustache and pince-nez. Sally got up, and the next
+moment Ginger was alone, gaping perplexedly after her as she vanished
+and reappeared in the jogging throng on the dancing floor. It was the
+nearest thing Ginger had seen to a conjuring trick, and at that moment
+he was ill-attuned to conjuring tricks. He brooded, fuming, at what
+seemed to him the supremest exhibition of pure cheek, of monumental
+nerve, and of undiluted crust that had ever come within his notice. To
+come and charge into a private conversation like that and whisk her away
+without a word...
+
+"Who was that blighter?" he demanded with heat, when the music ceased
+and Sally limped back.
+
+"That was Mr. Schoenstein."
+
+"And who was the other?"
+
+"The one I danced with? I don't know."
+
+"You don't know?"
+
+Sally perceived that the conversation had arrived at an embarrassing
+point. There was nothing for it but candour.
+
+"Ginger," she said, "you remember my telling you when we first met that
+I used to dance in a Broadway place? This is the place. I'm working
+again."
+
+Complete unintelligence showed itself on Ginger's every feature.
+
+"I don't understand," he said--unnecessarily, for his face revealed the
+fact.
+
+"I've got my old job back."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, I had to do something." She went on rapidly.  Already a light
+dimly resembling the light of understanding was beginning to appear in
+Ginger's eyes. "Fillmore went smash, you know--it wasn't his fault, poor
+dear. He had the worst kind of luck--and most of my money was tied up in
+his business, so you see..."
+
+She broke off confused by the look in his eyes, conscious of an absurd
+feeling of guilt. There was amazement in that look and a sort of
+incredulous horror.
+
+"Do you mean to say..." Ginger gulped and started again.  "Do you mean
+to tell me that you let me have... all that money... for the
+dog-business... when you were broke? Do you mean to say..."
+
+Sally stole a glance at his crimson face and looked away again quickly.
+There was an electric silence.
+
+"Look here," exploded Ginger with sudden violence, "you've got to marry
+me. You've jolly well got to marry me! I don't mean that," he added
+quickly. "I mean to say I know you're going to marry whoever you
+please... but won't you marry me? Sally, for God's sake have a dash at
+it! I've been keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather
+rotten to bother you about it, but now... .Oh, dammit, I wish I could
+put it into words. I always was rotten at talking. But... well, look
+here, what I mean is, I know I'm not much of a chap, but it seems to me
+you must care for me a bit to do a thing like that for a fellow...
+and... I've loved you like the dickens ever since I met you... I do wish
+you'd have a stab at it, Sally. At least I could look after you, you
+know, and all that... I mean to say, work like the deuce and try to give
+you a good time... I'm not such an ass as to think a girl like you could
+ever really... er... love a blighter like me, but..."
+
+Sally laid her hand oh his.
+
+"Ginger, dear," she said, "I do love you.  I ought to have known it all
+along, but I seem to be understanding myself to-night for the first
+time." She got up and bent over him for a swift moment, whispering in
+his ear, "I shall never love anyone but you, Ginger. Will you try to
+remember that." She was moving away, but he caught at her arm and
+stopped her.
+
+"Sally..."
+
+She pulled her arm away, her face working as she fought against the
+tears that would not keep back.
+
+"I've made a fool of myself," she said.  "Ginger, your cousin... Mr.
+Carmyle... just now he asked me to marry him, and I said I would."
+
+She was gone, flitting among the tables like some wild creature running
+to its home: and Ginger, motionless, watched her go.
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+
+The telephone-bell in Sally's little sitting-room was ringing jerkily as
+she let herself in at the front door. She guessed who it was at the
+other end of the wire, and the noise of the bell sounded to her like the
+voice of a friend in distress crying for help. Without stopping to close
+the door, she ran to the table and unhooked the receiver. Muffled,
+plaintive sounds were comming over the wire.
+
+"Hullo... Hullo... I say... Hullo..."
+
+"Hullo, Ginger," said Sally quietly.
+
+An ejaculation that was half a shout and half gurgle answered her.
+
+"Sally! Is that you?"
+
+"Yes, here I am, Ginger."
+
+"I've been trying to get you for ages."
+
+"I've only just come in.  I walked home."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Hullo."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, I mean..." Ginger seemed to be finding his usual difficulty in
+expressing himself. "About that, you know. What you said."
+
+"Yes?" said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
+
+"You said..." Again Ginger's vocabulary failed him.  "You said you loved
+me."
+
+"Yes," said Sally simply.
+
+Another odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of
+silence before Ginger found himself able to resume.
+
+"I... I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet.  I mean, it's no
+good trying to say what I think over the 'phone, I'm sort of knocked
+out. I never dreamed... But, I say, what did you mean about Bruce?"
+
+"I told you, I told you." Sally's face was twisted and the receiver
+shook in her hand. "I've made a fool of myself. I never realized... And
+now it's too late."
+
+"Good God!" Ginger's voice rose in a sharp wail.  "You can't mean you
+really... You don't seriously intend to marry the man?"
+
+"I must.  I've promised."
+
+"But, good heavens..."
+
+"It's no good.  I must."
+
+"But the man's a blighter!"
+
+"I can't break my word."
+
+"I never heard such rot," said Ginger vehemently.  "Of course you can.
+A girl isn't expected..."
+
+"I can't, Ginger dear, I really can't."
+
+"But look here..."
+
+"It's really no good talking about it any more, really it isn't... Where
+are you staying to-night?"
+
+"Staying? Me? At the Plaza.  But look here..."
+
+Sally found herself laughing weakly.
+
+"At the Plaza! Oh, Ginger, you really do want somebody to look after
+you. Squandering your pennies like that... Well, don't talk any more
+now. It's so late and I'm so tired. I'll come and see you to-morrow.
+Good night."
+
+She hung up the receiver quickly, to cut short a fresh outburst of
+protest. And as she turned away a voice spoke behind her.
+
+"Sally!"
+
+Gerald Foster was standing in the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+
+SALLY LAYS A GHOST
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+
+The blood flowed slowly back into Sally's face, and her  heart, which
+had leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice, resumed its
+normal beat. The suddenness of the shock over, she was surprised to find
+herself perfectly calm. Always when she had imagined this meeting,
+knowing that it would have to take place sooner or later, she had felt
+something akin to panic: but now that it had actually occurred it hardly
+seemed to stir her. The events of the night had left her incapable of
+any violent emotion.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!" said Gerald.
+
+He spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he stood
+swaying with one hand on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves,
+collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily. His face
+was white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a sodden
+disreputableness.
+
+Sally did not speak.  Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, she
+seemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tired
+nerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness. She
+looked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if he
+had been a stranger.
+
+"Hullo!" said Gerald again.
+
+"What do you want?" said Sally.
+
+"Heard your voice.  Saw the door open.  Thought I'd come in."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+The weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald's face vanished.  A
+tear rolled down his cheek. His intoxication had reached the maudlin
+stage.
+
+"Sally... S-Sally... I'm very miserable." He slurred awkwardly over the
+difficult syllables. "Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd
+come in."
+
+Something flicked at the back of Sally's mind.  She seemed to have been
+through all this before. Then she remembered. This was simply Mr.
+Reginald Cracknell over again.
+
+"I think you had better go to bed, Gerald," she said steadily.  Nothing
+about him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him nor his
+shameless misery.
+
+"What's the use? Can't sleep.  No good.  Couldn't sleep.  Sally, you
+don't know how worried I am. I see what a fool I've been."
+
+Sally made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about to
+develop into a belated expression of regret for his treatment of
+herself. She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizing
+with tears for having done his best to wreck her life. But it seemed
+that it was not this that was weighing upon his soul.
+
+"I was a fool ever to try writing plays," he went on.  "Got a winner
+first time, but can't repeat. It's no good. Ought to have stuck to
+newspaper work. I'm good at that. Shall have to go back to it. Had
+another frost to-night. No good trying any more. Shall have to go back
+to the old grind, damn it."
+
+He wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.
+
+"Very miserable," he murmured.
+
+He came forward a step into the room, lurched, and retreated to the
+safe support of the door. For an instant Sally's artificial calm was
+shot through by a swift stab of contempt. It passed, and she was back
+again in her armour of indifference.
+
+"Go to bed, Gerald," she said.  "You'll feel better in the morning."
+
+Perhaps some inkling of how he was going to feel in the morning worked
+through to Gerald's muddled intelligence, for he winced, and his manner
+took on a deeper melancholy.
+
+"May not be alive in the morning," he said solemnly.  "Good mind to end
+it all. End it all!" he repeated with the beginning of a sweeping
+gesture which was cut off abruptly as he clutched at the friendly door.
+
+Sally was not in the mood for melodrama.
+
+"Oh, go to bed," she said impatiently.  The strange frozen indifference
+which had gripped her was beginning to pass, leaving in its place a
+growing feeling of resentment--resentment against Gerald for degrading
+himself like this, against herself for ever having found glamour in the
+man. It humiliated her to remember how utterly she had once allowed his
+personality to master hers. And under the sting of this humiliation she
+felt hard and pitiless. Dimly she was aware that a curious change had
+come over her to-night. Normally, the sight of any living thing in
+distress was enough to stir her quick sympathy: but Gerald mourning over
+the prospect of having to go back to regular work made no appeal to
+her--a fact which the sufferer noted and commented upon.
+
+"You're very unsymp... unsympathetic," he complained.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Sally.  She walked briskly to the door and gave it a
+push. Gerald, still clinging to his chosen support, moved out into the
+passage, attached to the handle, with the air of a man the foundations
+of whose world have suddenly lost their stability. He released the
+handle and moved uncertainly across the passage. Finding his own door
+open before him, he staggered over the threshold; and Sally, having
+watched him safely to his journey's end, went into her bedroom with the
+intention of terminating this disturbing night by going to sleep.
+
+Almost immediately she changed her mind.  Sleep was out of the question.
+A fever of restlessness had come upon her. She put on a kimono, and went
+into the kitchen to ascertain whether her commissariat arrangements
+would permit of a glass of hot milk.
+
+She had just remembered that she had that morning presented the last of
+the milk to a sandy cat with a purposeful eye which had dropped in
+through the window to take breakfast with her, when her regrets for
+this thriftless hospitality were interrupted by a muffled crash.
+
+She listened intently.  The sound had seemed to come from across the
+passage. She hurried to the door and opened it. As she did so, from
+behind the door of the apartment opposite there came a perfect fusillade
+of crashes, each seeming to her strained hearing louder and more
+appalling than the last.
+
+There is something about sudden, loud noises in the stillness of the
+night which shatters the most rigid detachment. A short while before,
+Gerald, toying with the idea of ending his sorrows by violence, had left
+Sally unmoved: but now her mind leapt back to what he had said, and
+apprehension succeeded indifference. There was no disputing the fact
+that Gerald was in an irresponsible mood, under the influence of which
+he was capable of doing almost anything. Sally, listening in the
+doorway, felt a momentary panic.
+
+A brief silence had succeeded the fusillade, but, as she stood there
+hesitating, the noise broke out again; and this time it was so loud and
+compelling that Sally hesitated no longer. She ran across the passage
+and beat on the door.
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+
+Whatever devastating happenings had been going on in his home, it was
+plain a moment later that Gerald had managed to survive them: for there
+came the sound of a dragging footstep, and the door opened. Gerald stood
+on the threshold, the weak smile back on his face.
+
+"Hullo, Sally!"
+
+At the sight of him, disreputable and obviously unscathed, Sally's
+brief alarm died away, leaving in its place the old feeling of impatient
+resentment. In addition to her other grievances against him, he had
+apparently frightened her unnecessarily.
+
+"Whatever was all that noise?" she demanded.
+
+"Noise?" said Gerald, considering the point open-mouthed.
+
+"Yes, noise," snapped Sally.
+
+"I've been cleaning house," said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of a
+man just conscious that he is not wholly himself.
+
+Sally pushed her way past him.  The apartment in which she found herself
+was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa
+Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly
+feminine way. Amateur interior decoration had always been a hobby of
+hers. Even in the unpromising surroundings of her bedroom at Mrs.
+Meecher's boarding-house she had contrived to create a certain
+daintiness which Sally, who had no ability in that direction herself,
+had always rather envied. As a decorator Elsa's mind ran in the
+direction of small, fragile ornaments, and she was not afraid of
+over-furnishing. Pictures jostled one another on the walls: china of all
+description stood about on little tables: there was a profusion of lamps
+with shades of parti-coloured glass: and plates were ranged along a
+series of shelves.
+
+One says that the plates were ranged and the pictures jostled one
+another, but it would be more correct to put it they had jostled and had
+been ranged, for it was only by guess-work that Sally was able to
+reconstruct the scene as it must have appeared before Gerald had
+started, as he put it, to clean house. She had walked into the flat
+briskly enough, but she pulled up short as she crossed the threshold,
+appalled by the majestic ruin that met her gaze. A shell bursting in the
+little sitting-room could hardly have created more havoc.
+
+The psychology of a man of weak character under the influence of alcohol
+and disappointed ambition is not easy to plumb, for his moods follow one
+another with a rapidity which baffles the observer. Ten minutes before,
+Gerald Foster had been in the grip of a clammy self-pity, and it seemed
+from his aspect at the present moment that this phase had returned. But
+in the interval there had manifestly occurred a brief but adequate spasm
+of what would appear to have been an almost Berserk fury. What had
+caused it and why it should have expended itself so abruptly, Sally was
+not psychologist enough to explain; but that it had existed there was
+ocular evidence of the most convincing kind. A heavy niblick, flung
+petulantly--or remorsefully--into a corner, showed by what medium the
+destruction had been accomplished.
+
+Bleak chaos appeared on every side.  The floor was littered with every
+imaginable shape and size of broken glass and china. Fragments of
+pictures, looking as if they had been chewed by some prehistoric animal,
+lay amid heaps of shattered statuettes and vases. As Sally moved slowly
+into the room after her involuntary pause, china crackled beneath her
+feet. She surveyed the stripped walls with a wondering eye, and turned
+to Gerald for an explanation.
+
+Gerald had subsided on to an occasional table, and was weeping softly
+again. It had come over him once more that he had been very, very badly
+treated.
+
+"Well!" said Sally with a gasp.  "You've certainly made a good job of
+it!"
+
+There was a sharp crack as the occasional table, never designed by its
+maker to bear heavy weights, gave way in a splintering flurry of broken
+legs under the pressure of the master of the house: and Sally's mood
+underwent an abrupt change. There are few situations in life which do
+not hold equal potentialities for both tragedy and farce, and it was the
+ludicrous side of this drama that chanced to appeal to Sally at this
+moment. Her sense of humour was tickled. It was, if she could have
+analysed her feelings, at herself that she was mocking--at the feeble
+sentimental Sally who had once conceived the absurd idea of taking this
+preposterous man seriously. She felt light-hearted and light-headed, and
+she sank into a chair with a gurgling laugh.
+
+The shock of his fall appeared to have had the desirable effect of
+restoring Gerald to something approaching intelligence. He picked
+himself up from the remains of a set of water-colours, gazing at Sally
+with growing disapproval.
+
+"No sympathy," he said austerely.
+
+"I can't help it," cried Sally.  "It's too funny."
+
+"Not funny," corrected Gerald, his brain beginning to cloud once more.
+
+"What did you do it for?"
+
+Gerald returned for a moment to that mood of honest indignation, which
+had so strengthened his arm when wielding the niblick. He bethought him
+once again of his grievance.
+
+"Wasn't going to stand for it any longer," he said heatedly.  "A
+fellow's wife goes and lets him down... ruins his show by going off and
+playing in another show... why shouldn't I smash her things? Why should
+I stand for that sort of treatment? Why should I?"
+
+"Well, you haven't," said Sally, "so there's no need to discuss it.  You
+seem to have acted in a thoroughly manly and independent way."
+
+"That's it.  Manly independent." He waggled his finger impressively.
+"Don't care what she says," he continued. "Don't care if she never comes
+back. That woman..."
+
+Sally was not prepared to embark with him upon a discussion of the
+absent Elsa. Already the amusing aspect of the affair had begun to fade,
+and her hilarity was giving way to a tired distaste for the sordidness
+of the whole business. She had become aware that she could not endure
+the society of Gerald Foster much longer. She got up and spoke
+decidedly.
+
+"And now," she said, "I'm going to tidy up."
+
+Gerald had other views.
+
+"No," he said with sudden solemnity.  "No! Nothing of the kind.  Leave
+it for her to find. Leave it as it is."
+
+"Don't be silly.  All this has got to be cleaned up.  I'll do it.  You
+go and sit in my apartment. I'll come and tell you when you can come
+back."
+
+"No!" said Gerald, wagging his head.
+
+Sally stamped her foot among the crackling ruins.  Quite suddenly the
+sight of him had become intolerable.
+
+"Do as I tell you," she cried.
+
+Gerald wavered for a moment, but his brief militant mood was ebbing
+fast. After a faint protest he shuffled off, and Sally heard him go into
+her room. She breathed a deep breath of relief and turned to her task.
+
+A visit to the kitchen revealed a long-handled broom, and, armed with
+this, Sally was soon busy. She was an efficient little person, and
+presently out of chaos there began to emerge a certain order. Nothing
+short of complete re-decoration would ever make the place look habitable
+again, but at the end of half an hour she had cleared the floor, and the
+fragments of vases, plates, lamp-shades, pictures and glasses were
+stacked in tiny heaps against the walls. She returned the broom to the
+kitchen, and, going back into the sitting-room, flung open the window
+and stood looking out.
+
+With a sense of unreality she perceived that the night had gone.  Over
+the quiet street below there brooded that strange, metallic light which
+ushers in the dawn of a fine day. A cold breeze whispered to and fro.
+Above the house-tops the sky was a faint, level blue.
+
+She left the window and started to cross the room.  And suddenly there
+came over her a feeling of utter weakness. She stumbled to a chair,
+conscious only of being tired beyond the possibility of a further
+effort. Her eyes closed, and almost before her head had touched the
+cushions she was asleep.
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+
+Sally woke.  Sunshine was streaming through the open window, and with it
+the myriad noises of a city awake and about its business. Footsteps
+clattered on the sidewalk, automobile horns were sounding, and she could
+hear the clank of street cars as they passed over the points. She could
+only guess at the hour, but it was evident that the morning was well
+advanced. She got up stiffly. Her head was aching.
+
+She went into the bathroom, bathed her face, and felt better.  The dull
+oppression which comes of a bad night was leaving her. She leaned out of
+the window, revelling in the fresh air, then crossed the passage and
+entered her own apartment. Stertorous breathing greeted her, and she
+perceived that Gerald Foster had also passed the night in a chair. He
+was sprawling by the window with his legs stretched out and his head
+resting on one of the arms, an unlovely spectacle.
+
+Sally stood regarding him for a moment with a return of the distaste
+which she had felt on the previous night. And yet, mingled with the
+distaste, there was a certain elation. A black chapter of her life was
+closed for ever. Whatever the years to come might bring to her, they
+would be free from any wistful yearnings for the man who had once been
+woven so inextricably into the fabric of her life. She had thought that
+his personality had gripped her too strongly ever to be dislodged, but
+now she could look at him calmly and feel only a faint half-pity,
+half-contempt. The glamour had departed.
+
+She shook him gently, and he sat up with a start, blinking in the strong
+light. His mouth was still open. He stared at Sally foolishly, then
+scrambled awkwardly out of the chair.
+
+"Oh, my God!" said Gerald, pressing both his hands to his forehead and
+sitting down again. He licked his lips with a dry tongue and moaned.
+"Oh, I've got a headache!"
+
+Sally might have pointed out to him that he had certainly earned one,
+but she refrained.
+
+"You'd better go and have a wash," she suggested.
+
+"Yes," said Gerald, heaving himself up again.
+
+"Would you like some breakfast?"
+
+"Don't!" said Gerald faintly, and tottered off to the bathroom.
+
+Sally sat down in the chair he had vacated.  She had never felt quite
+like this before in her life. Everything seemed dreamlike. The splashing
+of water in the bathroom came faintly to her, and she realized that she
+had been on the point of falling asleep again. She got up and opened the
+window, and once more the air acted as a restorative. She watched the
+activities of the street with a distant interest. They, too, seemed
+dreamlike and unreal. People were hurrying up and down on mysterious
+errands. An inscrutable cat picked its way daintily across the road. At
+the door of the apartment house an open car purred sleepily.
+
+She was roused by a ring at the bell.  She went to the door and opened
+it, and found Bruce Carmyle standing on the threshold. He wore a light
+motor-coat, and he was plainly endeavouring to soften the severity of
+his saturnine face with a smile of beaming kindliness.
+
+"Well, here I am!" said Bruce Carmyle cheerily.  "Are you ready?"
+
+With the coming of daylight a certain penitence had descended on Mr.
+Carmyle. Thinking things over while shaving and subsequently in his
+bath, he had come to the conclusion that his behaviour overnight had not
+been all that could have been desired. He had not actually been brutal,
+perhaps, but he had undoubtedly not been winning. There had been an
+abruptness in the manner of his leaving Sally at the Flower Garden which
+a perfect lover ought not to have shown. He had allowed his nerves to
+get the better of him, and now he desired to make amends. Hence a
+cheerfulness which he did not usually exhibit so early in the morning.
+
+Sally was staring at him blankly.  She had completely forgotten that he
+had said that he would come and take her for a drive this morning. She
+searched in her mind for words, and found none. And, as Mr. Carmyle was
+debating within himself whether to kiss her now or wait for a more
+suitable moment, embarrassment came upon them both like a fog, and the
+genial smile faded from his face as if the motive-power behind it had
+suddenly failed.
+
+"I've--er--got the car outside, and..."
+
+At this point speech failed Mr. Carmyle, for, even as he began the
+sentence, the door that led to the bathroom opened and Gerald Foster
+came out. Mr. Carmyle gaped at Gerald: Gerald gaped at Mr. Carmyle.
+
+The application of cold water to the face and head is an excellent thing
+on the morning after an imprudent night, but as a tonic it only goes
+part of the way. In the case of Gerald Foster, which was an extremely
+serious and aggravated case, it had gone hardly any way at all. The
+person unknown who had been driving red-hot rivets into the base of
+Gerald Foster's skull ever since the moment of his awakening was still
+busily engaged on that task. He gazed at Mr. Carmyle wanly.
+
+Bruce Carmyle drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, and stood rigid.
+His eyes, burning now with a grim light, flickered over Gerald's person
+and found nothing in it to entertain them. He saw a slouching figure in
+shirt-sleeves and the foundations of evening dress, a disgusting,
+degraded figure with pink eyes and a white face that needed a shave. And
+all the doubts that had ever come to vex Mr. Carmyle's mind since his
+first meeting with Sally became on the instant certainties. So Uncle
+Donald had been right after all! This was the sort of girl she was!
+
+At his elbow the stout phantom of Uncle Donald puffed with satisfaction.
+
+"I told you so!" it said.
+
+Sally had not moved.  The situation was beyond her.  Just as if this had
+really been the dream it seemed, she felt incapable of speech or action.
+
+"So..." said Mr. Carmyle, becoming articulate, and allowed an impressive
+aposiopesis to take the place of the rest of the speech. A cold fury had
+gripped him. He pointed at Gerald, began to speak, found that he was
+stuttering, and gulped back the words. In this supreme moment he was not
+going to have his dignity impaired by a stutter. He gulped and found a
+sentence which, while brief enough to insure against this disaster, was
+sufficiently long to express his meaning.
+
+"Get out!" he said.
+
+Gerald Foster had his dignity, too, and it seemed to him that the time
+had come to assert it. But he also had a most excruciating headache, and
+when he drew himself up haughtily to ask Mr. Carmyle what the devil he
+meant by it, a severe access of pain sent him huddling back immediately
+to a safer attitude. He clasped his forehead and groaned.
+
+"Get out!"
+
+For a moment Gerald hesitated.  Then another sudden shooting spasm
+convinced him that no profit or pleasure was to be derived from a
+continuance of the argument, and he began to shamble slowly across to
+the door. Bruce Carmyle watched him go with twitching hands. There was a
+moment when the human man in him, somewhat atrophied from long disuse,
+stirred him almost to the point of assault; then dignity whispered more
+prudent counsel in his ear, and Gerald was past the danger-zone and out
+in the passage. Mr. Carmyle turned to face Sally, as King Arthur on a
+similar but less impressive occasion must have turned to deal with
+Guinevere.
+
+"So..." he said again.
+
+Sally was eyeing him steadily--considering the circumstances, Mr.
+Carmyle thought with not a little indignation, much too steadily.
+
+"This," he said ponderously, "is very amusing."
+
+He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.
+
+"I might have expected it," said Mr. Carmyle with a bitter laugh.
+
+Sally forced herself from the lethargy which was gripping her.
+
+"Would you like me to explain?" she said.
+
+"There can be no explanation," said Mr. Carmyle coldly.
+
+"Very well," said Sally.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Good-bye," said Bruce Carmyle.
+
+"Good-bye," said Sally.
+
+Mr. Carmyle walked to the door.  There he stopped for an instant and
+glanced back at her. Sally had walked to the window and was looking out.
+For one swift instant something about her trim little figure and the
+gleam of her hair where the sunlight shone on it seemed to catch at
+Bruce Carmyle's heart, and he wavered. But the next moment he was strong
+again, and the door had closed behind him with a resolute bang.
+
+Out in the street, climbing into his car, he looked up involuntarily to
+see if she was still there, but she had gone. As the car, gathering
+speed, hummed down the street. Sally was at the telephone listening to
+the sleepy voice of Ginger Kemp, which, as he became aware who it was
+that had woken him from his rest and what she had to say to him,
+magically lost its sleepiness and took on a note of riotous ecstasy.
+
+Five minutes later, Ginger was splashing in his bath, singing
+discordantly.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+
+JOURNEY'S END
+
+
+
+Darkness was beginning to gather slowly and with almost an apologetic
+air, as if it regretted the painful duty of putting an end to the
+perfect summer day. Over to the west beyond the trees there still
+lingered a faint afterglow, and a new moon shone like a silver sickle
+above the big barn. Sally came out of the house and bowed gravely three
+times for luck. She stood on the gravel, outside the porch, drinking in
+the sweet evening scents, and found life good.
+
+The darkness, having shown a certain reluctance at the start, was now
+buckling down to make a quick and thorough job of it. The sky turned to
+a uniform dark blue, picked out with quiet stars. The cement of the
+state road which led to Patchogue, Babylon, and other important centres
+ceased to be a pale blur and became invisible. Lights appeared in the
+windows of the houses across the meadows. From the direction of the
+kennels there came a single sleepy bark, and the small white woolly dog
+which had scampered out at Sally's heels stopped short and uttered a
+challenging squeak.
+
+The evening was so still that Ginger's footsteps, as he pounded along
+the road on his way back from the village, whither he had gone to buy
+provisions, evening papers, and wool for the sweater which Sally was
+knitting, were audible long before he turned in at the gate. Sally could
+not see him, but she looked in the direction of the sound and once again
+felt that pleasant, cosy thrill of happiness which had come to her every
+evening for the last year.
+
+"Ginger," she called.
+
+"What ho!"
+
+The woolly dog, with another important squeak, scuttled down the drive
+to look into the matter, and was coldly greeted. Ginger, for all his
+love of dogs, had never been able to bring himself to regard Toto with
+affection. He had protested when Sally, a month before, finding Mrs.
+Meecher distraught on account of a dreadful lethargy which had seized
+her pet, had begged him to offer hospitality and country air to the
+invalid.
+
+"It's wonderful what you've done for Toto, angel," said Sally, as he
+came up frigidly eluding that curious animal's leaps of welcome. "He's a
+different dog."
+
+"Bit of luck for him," said Ginger.
+
+"In all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher's I never knew him move at
+anything more rapid than a stately walk. Now he runs about all the
+time."
+
+"The blighter had been overeating from birth," said Ginger.  "That was
+all that was wrong with him. A little judicious dieting put him right.
+We'll be able," said Ginger brightening, "to ship him back next week."
+
+"I shall quite miss him."
+
+"I nearly missed him--this morning--with a shoe," said Ginger.  "He was
+up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and I took steps."
+
+"My cave-man!" murmured Sally.  "I always said you had a frightfully
+brutal streak in you. Ginger, what an evening!"
+
+"Good Lord!" said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of the
+open kitchen door.
+
+"Now what?"
+
+He stopped and eyed her intently.
+
+"Do you know you're looking prettier than you were when I started down
+to the village!"
+
+Sally gave his arm a little hug.
+
+"Beloved!" she said.  "Did you get the chops?"
+
+Ginger froze in his tracks, horrified.
+
+"Oh, my aunt! I clean forgot them!"
+
+"Oh, Ginger, you are an old chump.  Well, you'll have to go in for a
+little judicious dieting, like Toto."
+
+"I say, I'm most awfully sorry.  I got the wool."
+
+"If you think I'm going to eat wool..."
+
+"Isn't there anything in the house?"
+
+"Vegetables and fruit."
+
+"Fine! But, of course, if you want chops..."
+
+"Not at all.  I'm spiritual.  Besides, people say that vegetables are
+good for the blood-pressure or something. Of course you forgot to get
+the mail, too?"
+
+"Absolutely not! I was on to it like a knife.  Two letters from fellows
+wanting Airedale puppies."
+
+"No! Ginger, we are getting on!"
+
+"Pretty bloated," agreed Ginger complacently.  "Pretty bloated.  We'll
+be able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on like this. There
+was a letter for you. Here it is."
+
+"It's from Fillmore," said Sally, examining the envelope as they went
+into the kitchen. "And about time, too. I haven't had a word from him
+for months."
+
+She sat down and opened the letter.  Ginger, heaving  himself on to the
+table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his
+evening paper. But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he
+lowered it and allowed his gaze to rest on Sally's bent head with a
+feeling of utter contentment.
+
+Although a married man of nearly a year's standing, Ginger was still
+moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable fully
+to realize that such bliss could be. Ginger in his time had seen many
+things that looked good from a distance, but not one that had borne the
+test of a closer acquaintance--except this business of marriage.
+
+Marriage, with Sally for a partner, seemed to be one of the very few
+things in the world in which there was no catch. His honest eyes glowed
+as he watched her. Sally broke into a little splutter of laughter.
+
+"Ginger, look at this!"
+
+He reached down and took the slip of paper which she held out to him.
+The following legend met his eye, printed in bold letters:
+
+                                 POPP'S
+
+                              OUTSTANDING
+
+                 SUCCULENT----APPETIZING----NUTRITIOUS.
+
+
+
+                        (JUST SAY "POP!" A CHILD
+
+                              CAN DO IT.)
+
+
+
+Ginger regarded this cipher with a puzzled frown.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"It's Fillmore."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+Sally gurgled.
+
+"Fillmore and Gladys have started a little restaurant in Pittsburg."
+
+"A restaurant!" There was a shocked note in Ginger's voice.  Although he
+knew that the managerial career of that modern Napoleon, his
+brother-in-law, had terminated in something of a smash, he had never
+quite lost his reverence for one whom he considered a bit of a
+master-mind. That Fillmore Nicholas, the Man of Destiny, should have
+descended to conducting a restaurant--and a little restaurant at
+that--struck him as almost indecent.
+
+Sally, on the other hand--for sisters always seem to fail in proper
+reverence for the greatness of their brothers--was delighted.
+
+"It's the most splendid idea," she said with enthusiasm.  "It really
+does look as if Fillmore was going to amount to something at last.
+Apparently they started on quite a small scale, just making
+pork-pies..."
+
+"Why Popp?" interrupted Ginger, ventilating a question which was
+perplexing him deeply.
+
+"Just a trade name, silly.  Gladys is a wonderful cook, you know, and
+she made the pies and Fillmore toddled round selling them. And they did
+so well that now they've started a regular restaurant, and that's a
+success, too. Listen to this." Sally gurgled again and turned over the
+letter. "Where is it? Oh yes! '... sound financial footing. In fact, our
+success has been so instantaneous that I have decided to launch out on a
+really big scale. It is Big Ideas that lead to Big Business. I am
+contemplating a vast extension of this venture of ours, and in a very
+short time I shall organize branches in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and
+all the big cities, each in charge of a manager and each offering as a
+special feature, in addition to the usual restaurant cuisine, these
+Popp's Outstanding Pork-pies of ours. That done, and having established
+all these branches as going concerns, I shall sail for England and
+introduce Popp's Pork-pies there...' Isn't he a little wonder!"
+
+"Dashed brainy chap.  Always said so."
+
+"I must say I was rather uneasy when I read that.  I've seen so many of
+Fillmore's Big Ideas. That's always the way with him. He gets something
+good and then goes and overdoes it and bursts. However, it's all right
+now that he's got Gladys to look after him. She has added a postscript.
+Just four words, but oh! how comforting to a sister's heart. 'Yes, I
+don't think!' is what she says, and I don't know when I've read anything
+more cheering. Thank heaven, she's got poor dear Fillmore well in hand."
+
+"Pork-pies!" said Ginger, musingly, as the pangs of a healthy hunger
+began to assail his interior. "I wish he'd sent us one of the
+outstanding little chaps. I could do with it."
+
+Sally got up and ruffled his red hair.
+
+"Poor old Ginger! I knew you'd never be able to stick it.  Come on, it's
+a lovely night, lets walk to the village and revel at the inn. We're
+going to be millionaires before we know where we are, so we can afford
+it."
+
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
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+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
+#26 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse
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+Title: The Adventures of Sally
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7464]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 4, 2003]
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+Language: English
+
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+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SALLY ***
+
+
+
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+Produced by Tim Barnett
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>The Adventures of Sally</h1>
+<h1>by P. G. Wodehouse</h1>
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SALLY GIVES A PARTY</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+looked contentedly down the long table.  She felt happy at last.
+Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after
+an uncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would
+be.  The first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was
+only too well aware, by her brother Fillmore&#8217;s white evening
+waistcoat, had worn off; and the male and female patrons of Mrs.
+Meecher&#8217;s select boarding-house (transient and residential)
+were themselves again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the
+great vital topic of Sally&#8217;s legacy and what she ought to do
+with it.  The next best thing to having money of one&#8217;s own, is
+to dictate the spending of somebody else&#8217;s, and Sally&#8217;s
+guests were finding a good deal of satisfaction in arranging a Budget
+for her.  Rumour having put the sum at their disposal at a high
+figure, their suggestions had certain spaciousness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Let
+me tell you,&#8221; said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, &#8220;what I&#8217;d
+do, if I were you.&#8221; Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an
+intensely subordinate position in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown,
+the Wall Street brokers, always affected a brisk, incisive style of
+speech, as befitted a man in close touch with the great ones of
+Finance.  &#8220;I&#8217;d sink a couple of hundred thousand in some
+good, safe bond-issue&#8212;we&#8217;ve just put one out which you
+would do well to consider&#8212;and play about with the rest.  When I
+say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.
+ Multiple Steel&#8217;s worth looking at.  They tell me it&#8217;ll
+be up to a hundred and fifty before next Saturday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa
+Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett&#8217;s
+left, had other views.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Buy
+a theatre.  Sally, and put on good stuff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+lose every bean you&#8217;ve got,&#8221; said a mild young man, with
+a deep voice across the table.  &#8220;If I had a few hundred
+thousand,&#8221; said the mild young man, &#8220;I&#8217;d put every
+cent of it on Benny Whistler for the heavyweight championship.  I&#8217;ve
+private information that Battling Tuke has been got at and means to
+lie down in the seventh...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Say,
+listen,&#8221; interrupted another voice, &#8220;lemme tell you what
+I&#8217;d do with four hundred thousand...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I had four hundred thousand,&#8221; said Elsa Doland, &#8220;I know
+what would be the first thing I&#8217;d do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+that?&#8221; asked Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pay
+my bill for last week, due this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her
+friend&#8217;s shoulder and whispered in her ear:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Elsa
+darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I&#8217;ll...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa
+Doland laughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+an angel, Sally.  There&#8217;s no one like you.  You&#8217;d give
+your last cent to anyone.  Of course I&#8217;m not broke.  I&#8217;ve
+just come back from the road, and I&#8217;ve saved a fortune.  I only
+said that to draw you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had now
+divided itself into two schools of thought.  The conservative and
+prudent element, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on
+three hundred thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe
+real estate; while the smaller, more sporting section, impressed by
+the mild young man&#8217;s inside information, had already placed
+Sally&#8217;s money on Benny Whistler, doling it out cautiously in
+small sums so as not to spoil the market.  And so solid, it seemed,
+was Mr. Tuke&#8217;s reputation with those in the inner circle of
+knowledge that the mild young man was confident that, if you went
+about the matter cannily and without precipitation, three to one
+might be obtained.  It seemed to Sally that the time had come to
+correct certain misapprehensions</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know where you get your figures,&#8221; she said, &#8220;but
+I&#8217;m afraid they&#8217;re wrong.  I&#8217;ve just twenty-five
+thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+statement had a chilling effect.  To these jugglers with
+half-millions the amount mentioned seemed for the moment almost too
+small to bother about.  It was the sort of sum which they had been
+mentally setting aside for the heiress&#8217;s car fare.  Then they
+managed to adjust their minds to it.  After all, one could do
+something even with a pittance like twenty-five thousand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I&#8217;d twenty-five thousand,&#8221; said Augustus Bartlett, the
+first to rally from the shock, &#8220;I&#8217;d buy Amalgamated...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I had twenty-five thousand...&#8221; began Elsa Doland.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I&#8217;d had twenty-five thousand in the year nineteen hundred,&#8221;
+observed a gloomy-looking man with spectacles, &#8220;I could have
+started a revolution in Paraguay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+brooded sombrely on what might have been.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8217;ll tell you exactly what I&#8217;m going to do,&#8221; said
+Sally.  &#8220;I&#8217;m going to start with a trip to Europe...
+France, specially.  I&#8217;ve heard France well spoken of&#8212;as
+soon as I can get my passport; and after I&#8217;ve loafed there for
+a few weeks, I&#8217;m coming back to look about and find some nice
+cosy little business which will let me put money into it and keep me
+in luxury.  Are there any complaints?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Even
+a couple of thousand on Benny Whistler...&#8221;said the mild young
+man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t want your Benny Whistler,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;I
+wouldn&#8217;t have him if you gave him to me.  If I want to lose
+money, I&#8217;ll go to Monte Carlo and do it properly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Monte
+Carlo,&#8221; said the gloomy man, brightening up at the magic name.
+&#8220;I was in Monte Carlo in the year &#8217;97, and if I&#8217;d
+had another fifty dollars...  just fifty...  I&#8217;d have...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+the far end of the table there was a stir, a cough, and the grating
+of a chair&#8221; on the floor; and slowly, with that easy grace
+which actors of the old school learned in the days when acting was
+acting, Mr. Maxwell Faucitt, the boarding-house&#8217;s oldest
+inhabitant, rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ladies,&#8221;
+said Mr. Faucitt, bowing courteously, &#8220;and...&#8221; ceasing to
+bow and casting from beneath his white and venerable eyebrows a
+quelling glance at certain male members of the boarding-house&#8217;s
+younger set who were showing a disposition towards restiveness, &#8220;...
+gentlemen.  I feel that I cannot allow this occasion to pass without
+saying a few words.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+audience did not seem surprised.  It was possible that life, always
+prolific of incident in a great city like New York, might some day
+produce an occasion which Mr. Faucitt would feel that he could allow
+to pass without saying a few words; but nothing of the sort had
+happened as yet, and they had given up hope.  Right from the start of
+the meal they had felt that it would be optimism run mad to expect
+the old gentleman to abstain from speech on the night of Sally
+Nicholas&#8217; farewell dinner party; and partly because they had
+braced themselves to it, but principally because Miss Nicholas&#8217;
+hospitality had left them with a genial feeling of repletion, they
+settled themselves to listen with something resembling equanimity.  A
+movement on the part of the Marvellous Murphys&#8212;new arrivals,
+who had been playing the Bush-wick with their equilibristic act
+during the preceding week&#8212;to form a party of the extreme left
+and heckle the speaker, broke down under a cold look from their
+hostess.  Brief though their acquaintance had been, both of these
+lissom young gentlemen admired Sally immensely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+it should be set on record that this admiration of theirs was not
+misplaced.  He would have been hard to please who had not been
+attracted by Sally.  She was a small, trim, wisp of a girl with the
+tiniest hands and feet, the friendliest of smiles, and a dimple that
+came and went in the curve of her rounded chin.  Her eyes, which
+disappeared when she laughed, which was often, were a bright hazel;
+her hair a soft mass of brown.  She had, moreover, a manner, an air
+of distinction lacking in the majority of Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s
+guests.  And she carried youth like a banner.  In approving of Sally,
+the Marvellous Murphys had been guilty of no lapse from their high
+critical standard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have been asked,&#8221; proceeded Mr. Faucitt, &#8220;though I am
+aware that there are others here far worthier of such a task&#8212;Brutuses
+compared with whom I, like Marc Antony, am no orator&#8212;I have
+been asked to propose the health...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+asked you?&#8221; It was the smaller of the Marvellous Murphys who
+spoke.  He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty.  Still, he
+could balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle
+while revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet.  There is good in
+all of us.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">
+&#8220;I have been asked,&#8221; repeated Mr. Faucitt, ignoring the
+unmannerly interruption, which, indeed, he would have found it hard
+to answer, &#8220;to propose the health of our charming hostess
+(applause), coupled with the name of her brother, our old friend
+Fillmore Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+gentleman referred to, who sat at the speaker&#8217;s end of the
+table, acknowledged the tribute with a brief nod of the head.  It was
+a nod of condescension; the nod of one who, conscious of being hedged
+about by social inferiors, nevertheless does his best to be not
+unkindly.  And Sally, seeing it, debated in her mind for an instant
+the advisability of throwing an orange at her brother.  There was one
+lying ready to her hand, and his glistening shirt-front offered an
+admirable mark; but she restrained herself.  After all, if a hostess
+yields to her primitive impulses, what happens? Chaos.  She had just
+frowned down the exuberance of the rebellious Murphys, and she felt
+that if, even with the highest motives, she began throwing fruit, her
+influence for good in that quarter would be weakened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+leaned back with a sigh.  The temptation had been hard to resist.  A
+democratic girl, pomposity was a quality which she thoroughly
+disliked; and though she loved him, she could not disguise from
+herself that, ever since affluence had descended upon him some months
+ago, her brother Fillmore had become insufferably pompous.  If there
+are any young men whom inherited wealth improves, Fillmore Nicholas
+was not one of them.  He seemed to regard himself nowadays as a sort
+of Man of Destiny.  To converse with him was for the ordinary human
+being like being received in audience by some more than stand-offish
+monarch.  It had taken Sally over an hour to persuade him to leave
+his apartment on Riverside Drive and revisit the boarding-house for
+this special occasion; and, when he had come, he had entered wearing
+such faultless evening dress that he had made the rest of the party
+look like a gathering of tramp-cyclists.  His white waistcoat alone
+was a silent reproach to honest poverty, and had caused an awkward
+constraint right through the soup and fish courses.  Most of those
+present had known Fillmore Nicholas as an impecunious young man who
+could make a tweed suit last longer than one would have believed
+possible; they had called him &#8220;Fill&#8221; and helped him in
+more than usually lean times with small loans: but to-night they had
+eyed the waistcoat dumbly and shrank back abashed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Speaking,&#8221;
+said Mr. Faucitt, &#8220;as an Englishman&#8212;for though I have
+long since taken out what are technically known as my &#8216;papers&#8217;
+it was as a subject of the island kingdom that I first visited this
+great country&#8212;I may say that the two factors in American life
+which have always made the profoundest impression upon me have been
+the lavishness of American hospitality and the charm of the American
+girl.  To-night we have been privileged to witness the American girl
+in the capacity of hostess, and I think I am right in saying, in
+asseverating, in committing myself to the statement that his has been
+a night which none of us present here will ever forget.  Miss
+Nicholas has given us, ladies and gentlemen, a banquet.  I repeat, a
+banquet.  There has been alcoholic refreshment.  I do not know where
+it came from: I do not ask how it was procured, but we have had it.
+Miss Nicholas&#8230;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Faucitt paused to puff at his cigar.  Sally&#8217;s brother Fillmore
+suppressed a yawn and glanced at his watch.  Sally continued to lean
+forward raptly.  She knew how happy it made the old gentleman to
+deliver a formal speech; and though she wished the subject had been
+different, she was prepared to listen indefinitely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Nicholas,&#8221; resumed Mr. Faucitt, lowering his cigar, &#8220;...
+But why,&#8221; he demanded abruptly, &#8220;do I call her Miss
+Nicholas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Because
+it&#8217;s her name,&#8221; hazarded the taller Murphy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Faucitt eyed him with disfavour.  He disapproved of the marvellous
+brethren on general grounds because, himself a resident of years
+standing, he considered that these transients from the vaudeville
+stage lowered the tone of the boarding-house; but particularly
+because the one who had just spoken had, on his first evening in the
+place, addressed him as &#8220;grandpa.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+sir,&#8221; he said severely, &#8220;it is her name.  But she has
+another name, sweeter to those who love her, those who worship her,
+those who have watched her with the eye of sedulous affection through
+the three years she has spent beneath this roof, though that <i>name,&#8221;</i>
+said Mr. Faucitt, lowering the tone of his address and descending to
+what might almost be termed personalities, &#8220;may not be familiar
+to a couple of dud acrobats who have only been in the place a
+week-end, thank heaven, and are off to-morrow to infest some other
+city.  That name,&#8221; said Mr. Faucitt, soaring once more to a
+loftier plane, &#8220;is Sally.  Our Sally.  For three years our
+Sally has flitted about this establishment like&#8212;I choose the
+simile advisedly&#8212;like a ray of sunshine.  For three years she
+has made life for us a brighter, sweeter thing.  And now a sudden
+access of worldly wealth, happily synchronizing with her twenty-first
+birthday, is to remove her from our midst.  From our midst, ladies
+and gentlemen, but not from our hearts.  And I think I may venture to
+hope, to prognosticate, that, whatever lofty sphere she may adorn in
+the future, to whatever heights in the social world she may soar, she
+will still continue to hold a corner in her own golden heart for the
+comrades of her Bohemian days.  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our
+hostess, Miss Sally Nicholas, coupled with the name of our old
+friend, her brother Fillmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+watching her brother heave himself to his feet as the cheers died
+away, felt her heart beat a little faster with anticipation.
+Fillmore was a fluent young man, once a power in his college debating
+society, and it was for that reason that she had insisted on his
+coming here tonight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had guessed that Mr. Faucitt, the old dear, would say all sorts of
+delightful things about her, and she had mistrusted her ability to
+make a fitting reply.  And it was imperative that a fitting reply
+should proceed from someone.  She knew Mr. Faucitt so well.  He
+looked on these occasions rather in the light of scenes from some
+play; and, sustaining his own part in them with such polished grace,
+was certain to be pained by anything in the nature of an anti-climax
+after he should have ceased to take the stage.  Eloquent himself, he
+must be answered with eloquence, or his whole evening would be
+spoiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+Nicholas smoothed a wrinkle out of his white waistcoat; and having
+rested one podgy hand on the table-cloth and the thumb of the other
+in his pocket, glanced down the table with eyes so haughtily drooping
+that Sally&#8217;s fingers closed automatically about her orange, as
+she wondered whether even now it might not be a good thing...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+seems to be one of Nature&#8217;s laws that the most attractive girls
+should have the least attractive brothers.  Fillmore Nicholas had not
+worn well.  At the age of seven he had been an extraordinarily
+beautiful child, but after that he had gone all to pieces; and now,
+at the age of twenty-five, it would be idle to deny that he was
+something of a mess.  For the three years preceding his twenty-fifth
+birthday, restricted means and hard work had kept his figure in
+check; but with money there had come an ever-increasing sleekness.
+He looked as if he fed too often and too well.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All
+this, however, Sally was prepared to forgive him, if he would only
+make a good speech.  She could see Mr. Faucitt leaning back in his
+chair, all courteous attention.  Rolling periods were meat and drink
+to the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+sure,&#8221; said Fillmore, &#8220;you don&#8217;t want a speech...
+Very good of you to drink our health.  Thank you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+sat down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+effect of these few simple words on the company was marked, but not
+in every case identical.  To the majority the emotion which they
+brought was one of unmixed relief.  There had been something so
+menacing, so easy and practised, in Fillmore&#8217;s attitude as he
+had stood there that the gloomier-minded had given him at least
+twenty minutes, and even the optimists had reckoned that they would
+be lucky if they got off with ten.  As far as the bulk of the guests
+were concerned, there was no grumbling.  Fillmore&#8217;s, to their
+thinking, had been the ideal after-dinner speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Far
+different was it with Mr. Maxwell Faucitt.  The poor old man was
+wearing such an expression of surprise and dismay as he might have
+worn had somebody unexpectedly pulled the chair from under him.  He
+was feeling the sick shock which comes to those who tread on a
+non-existent last stair.  And Sally, catching sight of his face,
+uttered a sharp wordless exclamation as if she had seen a child fall
+down and hurt itself in the street.  The next moment she had run
+round the table and was standing behind him with her arms round his
+neck.  She spoke across him with a sob in her voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+brother,&#8221; she stammered, directing a malevolent look at the
+immaculate Fillmore, who, avoiding her gaze, glanced down his nose
+and smoothed another wrinkle out of his waistcoat, &#8220;has not
+said quite&#8212;quite all I hoped he was going to say.  I can&#8217;t
+make a speech, but...&#8221; Sally gulped, &#8220;... but, I love you
+all and of course I shall never forget you, and... and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here
+Sally kissed Mr. Faucitt and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There,
+there,&#8221; said Mr. Faucitt, soothingly.  The kindest critic could
+not have claimed that Sally had been eloquent: nevertheless Mr.
+Maxwell Faucitt was conscious of no sense of anti-climax.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had just finished telling her brother Fillmore what a pig he was.
+The lecture had taken place in the street outside the boarding-house
+immediately on the conclusion of the festivities, when Fillmore, who
+had furtively collected his hat and overcoat, had stolen forth into
+the night, had been overtaken and brought to bay by his justly
+indignant sister.  Her remarks, punctuated at intervals by bleating
+sounds from the accused, had lasted some ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As
+she paused for breath, Fillmore seemed to expand, like an indiarubber
+ball which has been sat on.  Dignified as he was to the world, he had
+never been able to prevent himself being intimidated by Sally when in
+one of these moods of hers.  He regretted this, for it hurt his
+self-esteem, but he did not see how the fact could be altered.  Sally
+had always been like that.  Even the uncle, who after the deaths of
+their parents had become their guardian, had never, though a grim
+man, been able to cope successfully with Sally.  In that last hectic
+scene three years ago, which had ended in their going out into the
+world, together like a second Adam and Eve, the verbal victory had
+been hers.  And it had been Sally who had achieved triumph in the one
+battle which Mrs. Meecher, apparently as a matter of duty, always
+brought about with each of her patrons in the first week of their
+stay.  A sweet-tempered girl, Sally, like most women of a generous
+spirit, had cyclonic potentialities.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As
+she seemed to have said her say, Fillmore kept on expanding till he
+had reached the normal, when he ventured upon a speech for the
+defence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+have <i>I </i>done?&#8221; demanded Fillmore plaintively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you want to hear all over again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+no,&#8221; said Fillmore hastily.  &#8220;But, listen.  Sally, you
+don&#8217;t understand my position.  You don&#8217;t seem to realize
+that all that sort of thing, all that boarding-house stuff, is a
+thing of the past.  One&#8217;s got beyond it.  One wants to drop it.
+ One wants to forget it, darn it! Be fair.  Look at it from my
+viewpoint.  I&#8217;m going to be a big man &#8230;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+going to be a fat man,&#8221; said Sally, coldly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+refrained from discussing the point.  He was sensitive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to do big things,&#8221; he substituted.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+a deal on at this very moment which... well, I can&#8217;t tell you
+about it, but it&#8217;s going to be big.  Well, what I&#8217;m
+driving at, is about all this sort of thing&#8221;&#8212;he indicated
+the lighted front of Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s home-from-home with a wide
+gesture&#8212;&#8221;is that it&#8217;s over.  Finished and done
+with.  These people were all very well when...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;...
+when you&#8217;d lost your week&#8217;s salary at poker and wanted to
+borrow a few dollars for the rent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+always paid them back,&#8221; protested Fillmore, defensively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+<i>we</i> did,&#8221; said Fillmore, accepting the amendment with the
+air of a man who has no time for chopping straws.  &#8220;Anyway,
+what I mean is, I don&#8217;t see why, just because one has known
+people at a certain period in one&#8217;s life when one was
+practically down and out, one should have them round one&#8217;s neck
+for ever.  One can&#8217;t prevent people forming an I-knew-him-when
+club, but, darn it, one needn&#8217;t attend the meetings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One&#8217;s
+friends...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+<i>friends,&#8221;</i> said Fillmore.  &#8220;That&#8217;s just where
+all this makes me so tired.  One&#8217;s in a position where all
+these people are entitled to call themselves one&#8217;s friends,
+simply because father put it in his will that I wasn&#8217;t to get
+the money till I was twenty-five, instead of letting me have it at
+twenty-one like anybody else.  I wonder where I should have been by
+now if I could have got that money when I was twenty-one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;In
+the poor-house, probably,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+was wounded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!
+you don&#8217;t believe in me,&#8221; he sighed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+you would be all right if you had one thing,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+passed his qualities in swift review before his mental eye.  Brains?
+Dash? Spaciousness? Initiative? All present and correct.  He wondered
+where Sally imagined the hiatus to exist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+thing?&#8221; he said.  &#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+nurse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+sense of injury deepened.  He supposed that this was always the way,
+that those nearest to a man never believed in his ability till he had
+proved it so masterfully that it no longer required the assistance of
+faith.  Still, it was trying; and there was not much consolation to
+be derived from the thought that Napoleon had had to go through this
+sort of thing in his day.  &#8220;I shall find my place in the
+world,&#8221; he said sulkily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+you&#8217;ll find your place all right,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;And
+I&#8217;ll come round and bring you jelly and read to you on the days
+when visitors are allowed... Oh, hullo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+last remark was addressed to a young man who had been swinging
+briskly along the sidewalk from the direction of Broadway and who
+now, coming abreast of them, stopped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+evening, Mr. Foster.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+evening.  Miss Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t know my brother, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t believe I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+left the underworld before you came to it,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;You
+wouldn&#8217;t think it to look at him, but he was once a prune-eater
+among the proletariat, even as you and I.  Mrs. Meecher looks on him
+as a son.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+two men shook hands.  Fillmore was not short, but Gerald Foster with
+his lean, well-built figure seemed to tower over him.  He was an
+Englishman, a man in the middle twenties, clean-shaven, keen-eyed,
+and very good to look at.  Fillmore, who had recently been going in
+for one of those sum-up-your-fellow-man-at-a-glance courses, the
+better to fit himself for his career of greatness, was rather
+impressed.  It seemed to him that this Mr. Foster, like himself, was
+one of those who Get There.  If you are that kind yourself, you get
+into the knack of recognizing the others.  It is a sort of gift.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a few moments of desultory conversation, of the kind that usually
+follows an introduction, and then Fillmore, by no means sorry to get
+the chance, took advantage of the coming of this new arrival to
+remove himself.  He had not enjoyed his chat with Sally, and it
+seemed probable that he would enjoy a continuation of it even less.
+He was glad that Mr. Foster had happened along at this particular
+juncture.  Excusing himself briefly, he hurried off down the street.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stood for a minute, watching him till he had disappeared round the
+corner.  She had a slightly regretful feeling that, now it was too
+late, she would think of a whole lot more good things which it would
+have been agreeable to say to him.  And it had become obvious to her
+that Fillmore was not getting nearly enough of that kind of thing
+said to him nowadays.  Then she dismissed him from her mind and
+turning to Gerald Foster, slipped her arm through his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+Jerry, darling,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;What a shame you couldn&#8217;t
+come to the party.  Tell me all about everything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was exactly two months since Sally had become engaged to Gerald
+Foster; but so rigorously had they kept the secret that nobody at
+Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s so much as suspected it.  To Sally, who all her
+life had hated concealing things, secrecy of any kind was
+objectionable: but in this matter Gerald had shown an odd streak
+almost of furtiveness in his character.  An announced engagement
+complicated life.  People fussed about you and bothered you.  People
+either watched you or avoided you.  Such were his arguments, and
+Sally, who would have glossed over and found excuses for a
+disposition on his part towards homicide or arson, put them down to
+artistic sensitiveness.  There is nobody so sensitive as your artist,
+particularly if he be unsuccessful: and when an artist has so little
+success that he cannot afford to make a home for the woman he loves,
+his sensitiveness presumably becomes great indeed.  Putting herself
+in his place, Sally could see that a protracted engagement, known by
+everybody, would be a standing advertisement of Gerald&#8217;s
+failure to make good: and she acquiesced in the policy of secrecy,
+hoping that it would not last long.  It seemed absurd to think of
+Gerald as an unsuccessful man.  He had in him, as the recent Fillmore
+had perceived, something dynamic.  He was one of those men of whom
+one could predict that they would succeed very suddenly and
+rapidly&#8212;overnight, as it were.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+party,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;went off splendidly.&#8221; They had
+passed the boarding-house door, and were walking slowly down the
+street.  &#8220;Everybody enjoyed themselves, I think, even though
+Fillmore did his best to spoil things by coming looking like an
+advertisement of What The Smart Men Will Wear This Season.  You
+didn&#8217;t see his waistcoat just now.  He had covered it up.
+Conscience, I suppose.  It was white and bulgy and gleaming and full
+up of pearl buttons and everything.  I saw Augustus Bartlett curl up
+like a burnt feather when he caught sight of it.  Still, time seemed
+to heal the wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit.  Mr. Faucitt
+made a speech and I made a speech and cried, and &#8230;oh, it was
+all very festive.  It only needed you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wish I could have come.  I had to go to that dinner, though.
+Sally...&#8221; Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric
+with suppressed excitement.  &#8220;Sally, the play&#8217;s going to
+be put on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gave a little gasp.  She had lived this moment in anticipation for
+weeks.  She had always known that sooner or later this would happen.
+She had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that
+they were wonderful.  Of course, hers was a biased view, but then
+Elsa Doland also admired them; and Elsa&#8217;s opinion was one that
+carried weight.  Elsa was another of those people who were bound to
+succeed suddenly.  Even old Mr. Faucitt, who was a stern judge of
+acting and rather inclined to consider that nowadays there was no
+such thing, believed that she was a girl with a future who would do
+something big directly she got her chance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Jerry!&#8221;
+She gave his arm a hug.  &#8220;How simply terrific! Then Goble and
+Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they
+would.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author&#8217;s mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+not that one,&#8221; he said reluctantly.  &#8220;No hope there, I&#8217;m
+afraid.  I saw Goble this morning about that, and he said  it didn&#8217;t
+add up right.  The one that&#8217;s going to be put on is &#8216;The
+Primrose Way.&#8217; You remember? It&#8217;s got a big part for a
+girl in it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course! The one Elsa liked so much.  Well, that&#8217;s just as good.
+ Who&#8217;s going to do it? I thought you hadn&#8217;t sent it out
+again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it happens...&#8221; Gerald hesitated once more.  &#8220;It seems
+that this man I was dining with to-night&#8212;a man named
+Cracknell...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Cracknell?
+Not <i>the</i> Cracknell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+Cracknell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+one people are always talking about.  The man they call the
+Millionaire Kid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+Why, do you know him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+was at Harvard with Fillmore.  I never saw him, but he must be rather
+a painful person.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+he&#8217;s all right.  Not much brains, of course, but&#8212;well,
+he&#8217;s all right.  And, anyway, he wants to put the play on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+that&#8217;s splendid,&#8221; said Sally: but she could not get the
+right ring of enthusiasm into her voice.  She had had ideals for
+Gerald.  She had dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under
+the banner of one of the big managers whose name carried a prestige,
+and there seemed something unworthy in this association with a man
+whose chief claim to eminence lay in the fact that he was credited by
+metropolitan gossip with possessing the largest private stock of
+alcohol in existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought you would be pleased,&#8221; said Gerald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I am,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With
+the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had
+already begun to cast off her momentary depression.  After all, did
+it matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A
+manager was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if
+he had money for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer
+sensibilities from him? The real thing that mattered was the question
+of who was going to play the leading part, that deftly drawn
+character which had so excited the admiration of Elsa Doland.  She
+sought information on this point.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+will play Ruth?&#8221; she asked.  &#8220;You must have somebody
+wonderful.  It needs a tremendously clever woman.  Did Mr. Cracknell
+say anything about that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes, we discussed that, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it seems...&#8221; Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy
+embarrassment.  Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night
+without feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a
+dark alley.  She noticed it the more because it was so different from
+his usual direct method.  Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who
+apologize for themselves.  He was forthright and masterful and
+inclined to talk to her from a height.  To-night he seemed different.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you know Mabel Hobson?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mabel
+Hobson? I&#8217;ve seen her in the &#8216;Follies,&#8217; of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+started.  A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its absurdity
+became manifest the moment it had formed.  And yet was it absurd?
+Most Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the boarding-house,
+chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the mild young man
+who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler, and she was
+aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always getting
+itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss
+Hobson.  It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth,
+for the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts
+the Cracknells of this world.  But even so...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+seems that Cracknell...&#8221; said Gerald.&#8221; Apparently this
+man Cracknell...&#8221; He was finding Sally&#8217;s bright,
+horrified gaze somewhat trying.  &#8220;Well, the fact is Cracknell
+believes in Mabel Hobson&#8230;and... well, he thinks this part
+would suit her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Jerry!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Could
+infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of a
+Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman&#8217;s small size in
+heads as to make him entrust a part like Ruth in &#8220;The Primrose
+Way&#8221; to one who, when desired by the producer of her last revue
+to carry a bowl of roses across the stage and place it on a table,
+had rebelled on the plea that she had not been engaged as a dancer?
+Surely even lovelorn Reginald could perceive that this was not the
+stuff of which great emotional actresses are made.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Jerry!&#8221; she said again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was an uncomfortable silence.  They turned and walked back in the
+direction of the boarding-house.  Somehow Gerald&#8217;s arm had
+managed to get itself detached from Sally&#8217;s.  She was conscious
+of a curious dull ache that was almost like a physical pain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Jerry!
+Is it worth it?&#8221; she burst out vehemently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual
+decisive speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Worth
+it? Of course it&#8217;s worth it.  It&#8217;s a Broadway production.
+ That&#8217;s all that matters.  Good heavens! I&#8217;ve been trying
+long enough to get a play on Broadway, and it isn&#8217;t likely that
+I&#8217;m going to chuck away my chance when it comes along just
+because one might do better in the way of casting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It&#8217;s... it&#8217;s murder! Murder in the
+first degree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nonsense.
+ She&#8217;ll be all right.  The part will play itself.  Besides, she
+has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the
+money in the world to make the thing a success.  And it will be a
+start, whatever happens.  Of course, it&#8217;s worth it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+would have been impressed by this speech.  He would have recognized
+and respected in it the unmistakable ring which characterizes even
+the lightest utterances of those who get there.  On Sally it had not
+immediately that effect.  Nevertheless, her habit of making the best
+of things, working together with that primary article of her creed
+that the man she loved could do no wrong, succeeded finally in
+raising her spirits.  Of course Jerry was right.  It would have been
+foolish to refuse a contract because all its clauses were not ideal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+old darling,&#8221; she said affectionately attaching herself to the
+vacant arm once more and giving it a penitent squeeze, &#8220;you&#8217;re
+quite right.  Of course you are.  I can see it now.  I was only a
+little startled at first.  Everything&#8217;s going to be wonderful.
+Let&#8217;s get all our chickens out and count &#8216;em.  How are
+you going to spend the money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know how I&#8217;m going to spend a dollar of it,&#8221; said Gerald
+completely restored.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean the big money.  What&#8217;s a dollar?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+pays for a marriage-licence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gave his arm another squeeze.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ladies
+and gentlemen,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Look at this man.  Observe
+him.  <i>My</i> partner!&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">ENTER GINGER</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was sitting with her back against a hillock of golden sand, watching
+with half-closed eyes the denizens of Roville-sur-Mer at their
+familiar morning occupations.  At Roville, as at most French seashore
+resorts, the morning is the time when the visiting population
+assembles in force on the beach.  Whiskered fathers of families made
+cheerful patches of colour in the foreground.  Their female friends
+and relatives clustered in groups under gay parasols.  Dogs roamed to
+and fro, and children dug industriously with spades, ever and anon
+suspending their labours in order to smite one another with these
+handy implements.  One of the dogs, a poodle of military aspect,
+wandered up to Sally: and discovering that she was in possession of a
+box of sweets, decided to remain and await developments.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Few
+things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them, but Sally&#8217;s
+vacation had proved an exception to this rule.  It had been a magic
+month of lazy happiness.  She had drifted luxuriously from one French
+town to another, till the charm of Roville, with its blue sky, its
+Casino, its snow-white hotels along the Promenade, and its general
+glitter and gaiety, had brought her to a halt.  Here she could have
+stayed indefinitely, but the voice of America was calling her back.
+Gerald had written to say that &#8220;The Primrose Way&#8221; was to
+be produced in Detroit, preliminary to its New York run, so soon
+that, if she wished to see the opening, she must return at once.  A
+scrappy, hurried, unsatisfactory letter, the letter of a busy man:
+but one that Sally could not ignore.  She was leaving Roville
+to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day,
+however, was to-day: and she sat and watched the bathers with a
+familiar feeling of peace, revelling as usual in the still novel
+sensation of having nothing to do but bask in the warm sunshine and
+listen to the faint murmur of the little waves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But,
+if there was one drawback, she had discovered, to a morning on the
+Roville <i>plage,</i> it was that you had a tendency to fall asleep:
+and this is a degrading thing to do so soon after breakfast, even if
+you are on a holiday.  Usually, Sally fought stoutly against the
+temptation, but to-day the sun was so warm and the whisper of the
+waves so insinuating that she had almost dozed off, when she was
+aroused by voices close at hand.  There were many voices on the
+beach, both near and distant, but these were talking English, a
+novelty in Roville, and the sound of the familiar tongue jerked Sally
+back from the borders of sleep.  A few feet away, two men had seated
+themselves on the sand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From
+the first moment she had set out on her travels, it had been one of
+Sally&#8217;s principal amusements to examine the strangers whom
+chance threw in her way and to try by the light of her intuition to
+fit them out with characters and occupations: nor had she been
+discouraged by an almost consistent failure to guess right.  Out of
+the corner of her eye she inspected these two men.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+first of the pair did not attract her.  He was a tall, dark man whose
+tight, precise mouth and rather high cheeks bones gave him an
+appearance vaguely sinister.  He had the dusky look of the
+clean-shaven man whose life is a perpetual struggle with a determined
+beard.  He certainly shaved twice a day, and just as certainly had
+the self-control not to swear when he cut himself.  She could picture
+him smiling nastily when this happened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hard,&#8221;
+diagnosed Sally.  &#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t like him.  A lawyer or
+something, I think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+turned to the other and found herself looking into his eyes.  This
+was because he had been staring at Sally with the utmost intentness
+ever since his arrival.  His mouth had opened slightly.  He had the
+air of a man who, after many disappointments, has at last found
+something worth looking at.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Rather
+a dear,&#8221; decided Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was a sturdy, thick-set young man with an amiable, freckled face and
+the reddest hair Sally had ever seen.  He had a square chin, and at
+one angle of the chin a slight cut.  And Sally was convinced that,
+however he had behaved on receipt of that wound, it had not been with
+superior self-control.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+temper, I should think,&#8221; she meditated.  &#8220;Very quick, but
+soon over.  Not very clever, I should say, but nice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+looked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one felt,
+characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting a
+cigarette in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and
+resumed the conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by
+the process of sitting down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+how <i>is</i> Scrymgeour?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+all right,&#8221; replied the young man with red hair absently.
+Sally was looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his
+eyes were still busy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was surprised at his being here.  He told me he meant to stay in
+Paris.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a slight pause.  Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
+nougat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say,&#8221; observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating
+tones that vibrated with intense feeling, &#8220;that&#8217;s the
+prettiest girl I&#8217;ve seen in my life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+this frank revelation of the red-haired young man&#8217;s personal
+opinions, Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased.  A
+broad-minded girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on
+a matter of public interest.  The young man&#8217;s companion, on the
+other hand, was unmixedly shocked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear fellow!&#8221; he ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+it&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said the red-haired young man, unmoved.
+&#8220;She can&#8217;t understand.  There isn&#8217;t a bally soul in
+this dashed place that can speak a word of English.  If I didn&#8217;t
+happen to remember a few odd bits of French, I should have starved by
+this time.  That girl,&#8221; he went on, returning to the subject
+most imperatively occupying his mind, &#8220;is an absolute topper! I
+give you my solemn word I&#8217;ve never seen anybody to touch her.
+Look at those hands and feet.  You don&#8217;t get them outside
+France.  Of course, her mouth is a bit wide,&#8221; he said
+reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+immobility, added to the other&#8217;s assurance concerning the
+linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to
+reassure the dark man.  He breathed again.  At no period of his life
+had he ever behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness
+himself, but he had quailed at the idea of being associated even
+remotely with incorrectness in another.  It had been a black moment
+for him when the red-haired young man had uttered those few kind
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Still
+you ought to be careful,&#8221; he said austerely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the
+poodle and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and
+returned to the topic of the mysterious Scrymgeour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+is Scrymgeour&#8217;s dyspepsia?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+red-haired young man seemed but faintly interested in the
+vicissitudes of Scrymgeour&#8217;s interior.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you notice the way her hair sort of curls over her ears?&#8221; he
+said.  &#8220;Eh? Oh, pretty much the same, I think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+hotel are you staying at?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+Normandie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+dipping into the box for another chocolate cream, gave an
+imperceptible start.  She, too, was staying at the Normandie.  She
+presumed that her admirer was a recent arrival, for she had seen
+nothing of him at the hotel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+Normandie?&#8221; The dark man looked puzzled.  &#8220;I know Roville
+pretty well by report, but I&#8217;ve never heard of any Hotel
+Normandie.  Where is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+a little shanty down near the station.  Not much of a place.  Still,
+it&#8217;s cheap, and the cooking&#8217;s all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+companion&#8217;s bewilderment increased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+on earth is a man like Scrymgeour doing there?&#8221; he said.  Sally
+was conscious of an urgent desire to know more and more about the
+absent Scrymgeour.  Constant repetition of his name had made him seem
+almost like an old friend.  &#8220;If there&#8217;s one thing he&#8217;s
+fussy about...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+are at least eleven thousand things he&#8217;s fussy about,&#8221;
+interrupted the red-haired young man disapprovingly.  &#8220;Jumpy
+old blighter!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+there&#8217;s one thing he&#8217;s particular about, it&#8217;s the
+sort of hotel he goes to.  Ever since I&#8217;ve known him he has
+always wanted the best.  I should have thought he would have gone to
+the Splendide.&#8221; He mused on this problem in a dissatisfied sort
+of way for a moment, then seemed to reconcile himself to the fact
+that a rich man&#8217;s eccentricities must be humoured.  &#8220;I&#8217;d
+like to see him again.  Ask him if he will dine with me at the
+Splendide to-night.  Say eight sharp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+occupied with her dogs, whose numbers had now been augmented by a
+white terrier with a black patch over its left eye, could not see the
+young man&#8217;s face: but his voice, when he replied, told her that
+something was wrong.  There was a false airiness in it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Scrymgeour isn&#8217;t in Roville.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No?
+Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Paris,
+I believe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;
+The dark man&#8217;s voice sharpened.  He sounded as though he were
+cross-examining a reluctant witness.  &#8220;Then why aren&#8217;t
+you there? What are you doing here? Did he give you a holiday?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+he did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+do you rejoin him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+red-haired young man&#8217;s manner was not unmistakably dogged.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+if you want to know,&#8221; he said, &#8220;the old blighter fired me
+the day before yesterday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a shuffling of sand as the dark man sprang up.  Sally, intent on
+the drama which was unfolding itself beside her, absent-mindedly gave
+the poodle a piece of nougat which should by rights have gone to the
+terrier.  She shot a swift glance sideways, and saw the dark man
+standing in an attitude rather reminiscent of the stern father of
+melodrama about to drive his erring daughter out into the snow.  The
+red-haired young man, outwardly stolid, was gazing before him down
+the beach at a fat bather in an orange suit who, after six false
+starts, was now actually in the water, floating with the dignity of a
+wrecked balloon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mean to tell me,&#8221; demanded the dark man, &#8220;that, after
+all the trouble the family took to get you what was practically a
+sinecure with endless possibilities if you only behaved yourself, you
+have deliberately thrown away...&#8221; A despairing gesture
+completed the sentence.  &#8220;Good God, you&#8217;re hopeless!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+red-haired young man made no reply.  He continued to gaze down the
+beach.  Of all outdoor sports, few are more stimulating than watching
+middle-aged Frenchmen bathe.  Drama, action, suspense, all are here.
+From the first stealthy testing of the water with an apprehensive toe
+to the final seal-like plunge, there is never a dull moment.  And
+apart from the excitement of the thing, judging it from a purely
+aesthetic standpoint, his must be a dull soul who can fail to be
+uplifted by the spectacle of a series of very stout men with
+whiskers, seen in tight bathing suits against a background of
+brightest blue.  Yet the young man with red hair, recently in the
+employment of Mr. Scrymgeour, eyed this free circus without any
+enjoyment whatever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+maddening! What are you going to do? What do you expect us to do? Are
+we to spend our whole lives getting you positions which you won&#8217;t
+keep? I can tell you we&#8217;re... it&#8217;s monstrous!  It&#8217;s
+sickening! Good God!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+with these words the dark man, apparently feeling, as Sally had
+sometimes felt in the society of her brother Fillmore, the futility
+of mere language, turned sharply and stalked away up the beach, the
+dignity of his exit somewhat marred a moment later by the fact of his
+straw hat blowing off and being trodden on by a passing child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+left behind him the sort of electric calm which follows the falling
+of a thunderbolt; that stunned calm through which the air seems still
+to quiver protestingly.  How long this would have lasted one cannot
+say: for towards the end of the first minute it was shattered by a
+purely terrestrial uproar.  With an abruptness heralded only by one
+short, low gurgling snarl, there sprang into being the prettiest dog
+fight that Roville had seen that season.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was the terrier with the black patch who began it.  That was Sally&#8217;s
+opinion: and such, one feels, will be the verdict of history.  His
+best friend, anxious to make out a case for him, could not have
+denied that he fired the first gun of the campaign.  But we must be
+just.  The fault was really Sally&#8217;s.  Absorbed in the scene
+which had just concluded and acutely inquisitive as to why the
+shadowy Scrymgeour had seen fit to dispense with the red-haired young
+man&#8217;s services, she had thrice in succession helped the poodle
+out of his turn.  The third occasion was too much for the terrier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the average
+mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast
+clashing of the elements.  It seems so outside one&#8217;s
+jurisdiction.  One is oppressed with a sense of the futility of
+interference.  And this was no ordinary dog fight.  It was a stunning
+mêlée, which would have excited favourable comment even
+among the blasé residents of a negro quarter or the not
+easily-pleased critics of a Lancashire mining-village.  From all over
+the beach dogs of every size, breed, and colour were racing to the
+scene: and while some of these merely remained in the ringside seats
+and barked, a considerable proportion immediately started fighting
+one another on general principles, well content to be in action
+without bothering about first causes.  The terrier had got the poodle
+by the left hind-leg and was restating his war-aims.  The raffish
+mongrel was apparently endeavouring to fletcherize a complete
+stranger of the Sealyham family.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was frankly unequal to the situation, as were the entire crowd of
+spectators who had come galloping up from the water&#8217;s edge.
+She had been paralysed from the start.  Snarling bundles bumped
+against her legs and bounced away again, but she made no move.
+Advice in fluent French rent the air.  Arms waved, and well-filled
+bathing suits leaped up and down.  But nobody did anything practical
+until in the centre of the theatre of war there suddenly appeared the
+red-haired young man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+only reason why dog fights do not go on for ever is that Providence
+has decided that on each such occasion there shall always be among
+those present one Master Mind; one wizard who, whatever his
+shortcomings in other battles of life, is in this single particular
+sphere competent and dominating.  At Roville-sur-Mer it was the
+red-haired young man.  His dark companion might have turned from him
+in disgust: his services might not have seemed worth retaining by the
+haughty Scrymgeour: he might be a pain in the neck to  &#8220;the
+family&#8221;; but he did know how to stop a dog fight.  From the
+first moment of his intervention calm began to steal over the scene.
+He had the same effect on the almost inextricably entwined
+belligerents as, in mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail, sliding down
+the sunbeam, used to have on battling knights.  He did not look like
+a dove of peace, but the most captious could not have denied that he
+brought home the goods.  There was a magic in his soothing hands, a
+spell in his voice: and in a shorter time than one would have
+believed possible dog after dog had been sorted out and calmed down;
+until presently all that was left of Armageddon was one solitary
+small Scotch terrier, thoughtfully licking a chewed leg.  The rest of
+the combatants, once more in their right mind and wondering what all
+the fuss was about, had been captured and haled away in a whirl of
+recrimination by voluble owners.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Having
+achieved this miracle, the young man turned to Sally.  Gallant, one
+might say reckless, as he had been a moment before, he now gave
+indications of a rather pleasing shyness.  He braced himself with
+that painful air of effort which announces to the world that an
+Englishman is about to speak a language other than his own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>J&#8217;espère,&#8221;</i>
+he said, having swallowed once or twice to brace himself up for the
+journey through the jungle of a foreign tongue, <i>&#8220; J&#8217;espère
+que vous n&#8217;êtes pas&#8212;</i>oh, dammit, what&#8217;s
+the word&#8212;<i>- J&#8217;espère que vous n&#8217;êtes
+pas blessée?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Blessée?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+<i>blessée.  </i>Wounded.  Hurt, don&#8217;t you know.
+Bitten.  Oh, dash it.  <i>J&#8217;espère...&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+bitten!&#8221; said Sally, dimpling.  &#8220;Oh, no, thanks very
+much.  I wasn&#8217;t bitten.  And I think it was awfully brave of
+you to save all our lives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+compliment seemed to pass over the young man&#8217;s head.  He stared
+at Sally with horrified eyes.  Over his amiable face there swept a
+vivid blush.  His jaw dropped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my sainted aunt!&#8221; he ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then,
+as if the situation was too much for him and flights the only
+possible solution, he spun round and disappeared at a walk so rapid
+that it was almost a run.  Sally watched him go and was sorry that he
+had torn himself away.  She still wanted to know why Scrymgeour had
+fired him.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">4</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Bedtime
+at Roville is an hour that seems to vary according to one&#8217;s
+proximity to the sea.  The gilded palaces along the front keep
+deplorable hours, polluting the night air till dawn with
+indefatigable jazz: but at the <i>pensions</i> of the economical like
+the Normandie, early to bed is the rule.  True, Jules, the stout
+young native who combined the offices of night-clerk and lift
+attendant at that establishment, was on duty in the hall throughout
+the night, but few of the Normandie&#8217;s patrons made use of his
+services.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+entering shortly before twelve o&#8217;clock on the night of the day
+on which the dark man, the red-haired young man, and their friend
+Scrymgeour had come into her life, found the little hall dim and
+silent.  Through the iron cage of the lift a single faint bulb
+glowed: another, over the desk in the far corner, illuminated the
+upper half of Jules, slumbering in a chair.  Jules seemed to Sally to
+be on duty in some capacity or other all the time.  His work, like
+women&#8217;s, was never done.  He was now restoring his tissues with
+a few winks of much-needed beauty sleep.  Sally, who had been to the
+Casino to hear the band and afterwards had strolled on the moonlit
+promenade, had a guilty sense of intrusion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As
+she stood there, reluctant to break in on Jules&#8217; rest&#8212;
+for her sympathetic heart, always at the disposal of the oppressed,
+had long ached for this overworked peon&#8212;she was relieved to
+hear footsteps in the street outside, followed by the opening of the
+front door.  If Jules would have had to wake up anyway, she felt her
+sense of responsibility lessened.  The door, having opened, closed
+again with a bang.  Jules stirred, gurgled, blinked, and sat up, and
+Sally, turning, perceived that the new arrival was the red-haired
+young man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+good evening,&#8221; said Sally welcomingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man stopped, and shuffled uncomfortably.  The morning&#8217;s
+happenings were obviously still green in his memory.  He had either
+not ceased blushing since their last meeting or he was celebrating
+their reunion by beginning to blush again: for his face was a
+familiar scarlet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Er&#8212;good
+evening,&#8221; he said, disentangling his feet, which, in the
+embarrassment of the moment, had somehow got coiled up together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Or
+<i>bon soir,</i> I suppose <i>you</i> would say,&#8221; murmured
+Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man acknowledged receipt of this thrust by dropping his hat and
+tripping over it as he stooped to pick it up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jules,
+meanwhile, who had been navigating in a sort of somnambulistic trance
+in the neighbourhood of the lift, now threw back the cage with a
+rattle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+a shame to have woken you up,&#8221; said Sally, commiseratingly,
+stepping in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jules
+did not reply, for the excellent reason that he had not been woken
+up.  Constant practice enabled him to do this sort of work without
+breaking his slumber.  His brain, if you could call it that, was
+working automatically.  He had shut up the gate with a clang and was
+tugging sluggishly at the correct rope, so that the lift was going
+slowly up instead of retiring down into the basement, but he was not
+awake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+and the red-haired young man sat side by side on the small seat,
+watching their conductor&#8217;s efforts.  After the first spurt,
+conversation had languished.  Sally had nothing of immediate interest
+to say, and her companion seemed to be one of these strong, silent
+men you read about.  Only a slight snore from Jules broke the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+the third floor Sally leaned forward and prodded Jules in the lower
+ribs.  All through her stay at Roville, she had found in dealing with
+the native population that actions spoke louder than words.  If she
+wanted anything in a restaurant or at a shop, she pointed; and, when
+she wished the lift to stop, she prodded the man in charge.  It was a
+system worth a dozen French conversation books.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jules
+brought the machine to a halt: and it was at this point that he
+should have done the one thing connected with his professional
+activities which he did really well&#8212;the opening, to wit, of the
+iron cage.  There are ways of doing this.  Jules&#8217; was the right
+way.  He was accustomed to do it with a flourish, and generally
+remarked &#8220;V&#8217;la!&#8221; in a modest but
+self-congratulatory voice as though he would have liked to see
+another man who could have put through a job like that.  Jules&#8217;
+opinion was that he might not be much to look at, but that he could
+open a lift door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-night,
+however, it seemed as if even this not very exacting feat was beyond
+his powers.  Instead of inserting his key in the lock, he stood
+staring in an attitude of frozen horror.  He was a man who took most
+things in life pretty seriously, and whatever was the little
+difficulty just now seemed to have broken him all up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+appears,&#8221; said Sally, turning to her companion, &#8220;to be a
+hitch.  Would you mind asking what&#8217;s the matter? I don&#8217;t
+know any French myself except &#8216;oo la la!&#8217; &#8220;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man, thus appealed to, nerved himself to the task.  He eyed the
+melancholy Jules doubtfully, and coughed in a strangled sort of way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+<i>esker... esker vous...&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+weaken,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;I think you&#8217;ve got him
+going.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Esker
+vous...   Pourquoi vous ne</i>... I mean <i>ne vous... </i>that is to
+say, <i>quel est le raison</i>...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+broke off here, because at this point Jules began to explain.  He
+explained very rapidly and at considerable length.  The fact that
+neither of his hearers understood a word of what he was saying
+appeared not to have impressed itself upon him.  Or, if he gave a
+thought to it, he dismissed the objection as trifling.  He wanted to
+explain, and he explained.  Words rushed from him like water from a
+geyser.  Sounds which you felt you would have been able to put a
+meaning to if he had detached them from the main body and repeated
+them slowly, went swirling down the stream and were lost for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Stop
+him!&#8221; said Sally firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+red-haired young man looked as a native of Johnstown might have
+looked on being requested to stop that city&#8217;s celebrated flood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Stop
+him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Blow a whistle or something.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Out
+of the depths of the young man&#8217;s memory there swam to the
+surface a single word&#8212;a word which he must have heard somewhere
+or read somewhere: a legacy, perhaps, from long-vanished school-days.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Zut!&#8221;</i>
+he barked, and instantaneously Jules turned himself off at the main.
+There was a moment of dazed silence, such as might occur in a
+boiler-factory if the works suddenly shut down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Quick!
+Now you&#8217;ve got him!&#8221; cried Sally.  &#8220;Ask him what
+he&#8217;s talking about&#8212;if he knows, which I doubt&#8212;and
+tell him to speak slowly.  Then we shall get somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man nodded intelligently.  The advice was good.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Lentement,&#8221;</i>
+he said.  <i>&#8220;Parlez lentement.  Pas si&#8212;</i>you know what
+I mean&#8212;<i>pas si</i> dashed <i>vite!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah-a-ah!&#8221;
+cried Jules, catching the idea on the fly.  <i>&#8220;Lentement.  Ah,
+oui, lentement.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+followed a lengthy conversation which, while conveying nothing to
+Sally, seemed intelligible to the red-haired linguist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+silly ass,&#8221; he was able to announce some few minutes later,
+&#8220;has made a bloomer.  Apparently he was half asleep when we
+came in, and he shoved us into the lift and slammed the door,
+forgetting that he had left the keys on the desk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+see,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;So we&#8217;re shut in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid so.  I wish to goodness,&#8221; said the young man, &#8220;I
+knew French well.  I&#8217;d curse him with some vim and not a little
+animation, the chump! I wonder what &#8216;blighter&#8217; is in
+French,&#8221; he said, meditating.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+the merest suggestion,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;but oughtn&#8217;t
+we to <i>do </i>something?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+could we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+for one thing, we might all utter a loud yell.  It would scare most
+of the people in the hotel to death, but there might be a survivor or
+two who would come and investigate and let us out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+a ripping idea!&#8221; said the young man, impressed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+glad you like it.  Now tell him the main out-line, or he&#8217;ll
+think we&#8217;ve gone mad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man searched for words, and eventually found some which
+expressed his meaning lamely but well enough to cause Jules to nod in
+a depressed sort of way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fine!&#8221;
+said Sally.  &#8220;Now, all together at the word &#8216;three.&#8217;
+One&#8212;two&#8212;Oh, poor darling!&#8221; she broke off.  &#8220;Look
+at him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In
+the far corner of the lift, the emotional Jules was sobbing silently
+into the bunch of cotton-waste which served him in the office of a
+pocket-handkerchief.  His broken-hearted gulps echoed hollowly down
+the shaft.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">5</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In
+these days of cheap books of instruction on every subject under the
+sun, we most of us know how to behave in the majority of life&#8217;s
+little crises.  We have only ourselves to blame if we are ignorant of
+what to do before the doctor comes, of how to make a dainty winter
+coat for baby out of father&#8217;s last year&#8217;s under-vest and
+of the best method of coping with the cold mutton.  But nobody yet
+has come forward with practical advice as to the correct method of
+behaviour to be adopted when a lift-attendant starts crying.  And
+Sally and her companion, as a consequence, for a few moments merely
+stared at each other helplessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Poor
+darling!&#8221; said Sally, finding speech.  &#8220;Ask him what&#8217;s
+the matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man looked at her doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+know,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I don&#8217;t enjoy chatting with this
+blighter.  I mean to say, it&#8217;s a bit of an effort.  I don&#8217;t
+know why it is, but talking French always makes me feel as if my nose
+were coming off.  Couldn&#8217;t we just leave him to have his cry
+out by himself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+idea!&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;Have you no heart? Are you one of
+those fiends in human shape?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+turned reluctantly to Jules, and paused to overhaul his vocabulary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+ought to be thankful for this chance,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;It&#8217;s
+the only real way of learning French, and you&#8217;re getting a
+lesson for nothing.  What did he say then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Something
+about losing something, it seemed to me.  I thought I caught the word
+<i>perdu.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+that means a partridge, doesn&#8217;t it? I&#8217;m sure I&#8217;ve
+seen it on the menus.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Would
+he talk about partridges at a time like this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+might.  The French are extraordinary people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8217;ll have another go at him.  But he&#8217;s a difficult chap
+to chat with.  If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of
+goes off like a rocket.&#8221; He addressed another question to the
+sufferer, and listened attentively to the voluble reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh!&#8221;
+he said with sudden enlightenment.  &#8220;Your<i> job?</i>&#8221;
+He turned to Sally.  &#8220;I got it that time,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;The trouble is, he says, that if we yell and rouse the house,
+we&#8217;ll get out all right, but he will lose his job, because this
+is the second time this sort of thing has happened, and they warned
+him last time that once more would mean the push.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Then
+we mustn&#8217;t dream of yelling,&#8221; said Sally, decidedly.  &#8220;It
+means a pretty long wait, you know.  As far as I can gather, there&#8217;s
+just a chance of somebody else coming in later, in which case he
+could let us out.  But it&#8217;s doubtful.  He rather thinks that
+everybody has gone to roost.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+we must try it.  I wouldn&#8217;t think of losing the poor man his
+job.  Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then
+we&#8217;ll just sit and amuse ourselves till something happens.
+We&#8217;ve lots to talk about.  We can tell each other the story of
+our lives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jules,
+cheered by his victims&#8217; kindly forbearance, lowered the car to
+the ground floor, where, after a glance of infinite longing at the
+keys on the distant desk, the sort of glance which Moses must have
+cast at the Promised Land from the summit of Mount Pisgah, he sagged
+down in a heap and resumed his slumbers.  Sally settled herself as
+comfortably as possible in her corner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;d
+better smoke,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;It will be something to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+awfully.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+now,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;tell me why Scrymgeour fired you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Little
+by little, under the stimulating influence of this nocturnal
+adventure, the red-haired young man had lost that shy confusion which
+had rendered him so ill at ease when he had encountered Sally in the
+hall of the hotel; but at this question embarrassment gripped him
+once more.  Another of those comprehensive blushes of his raced over
+his face, and he stammered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, I&#8217;m glad... I&#8217;m fearfully sorry about that, you
+know!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;About
+Scrymgeour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+know what I mean.  I mean, about making such a most ghastly ass of
+myself this morning.  I... I never dreamed you understood English.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+I didn&#8217;t object.  I thought you were very nice and
+complimentary.  Of course, I don&#8217;t know how many girls you&#8217;ve
+seen in your life, but...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+I say, don&#8217;t! It makes me feel such a chump.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+I&#8217;m sorry about my mouth.  It <i>is</i> wide.  But I know
+you&#8217;re a fair-minded man and realize that it isn&#8217;t my
+fault.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+rub it in,&#8221; pleaded the young man.  &#8220;As a matter of fact,
+if you want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect.  I
+think,&#8221; he proceeded, a little feverishly, &#8220;that you are
+the most indescribable topper that ever...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+were going to tell me about Scrymgeour,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
+sleep-walking.  Eloquence had carried him away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Scrymgeour?&#8221;
+he said.  &#8220;Oh, that would bore you.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be silly,&#8221; said Sally reprovingly.  &#8220;Can&#8217;t you
+realize that we&#8217;re practically castaways on a desert island?
+There&#8217;s nothing to do till to-morrow but talk about ourselves.
+I want to hear all about you, and then I&#8217;ll tell you all about
+myself.  If you feel diffident about starting the revelations, I&#8217;ll
+begin.  Better start with names.  Mine is Sally Nicholas.  What&#8217;s
+yours?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mine?
+Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought you would.  I put it as clearly as I could.  Well, what is
+it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Kemp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+the first name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+as a matter of fact,&#8221; said the young man, &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+always rather hushed up my first name, because when I was christened
+they worked a low-down trick on me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+can&#8217;t shock <i>me,&#8221;</i> said Sally, encouragingly.  &#8220;My
+father&#8217;s name was Ezekiel, and I&#8217;ve a brother who was
+christened Fillmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Kemp brightened.  &#8220;Well, mine isn&#8217;t as bad as that... No,
+I don&#8217;t mean that,&#8221; he broke off apologetically.  &#8220;Both
+awfully jolly names, of course...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Get
+on,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+they called me Lancelot.  And, of course, the thing is that I don&#8217;t
+look like a Lancelot and never shall.  My pals,&#8221; he added in a
+more cheerful strain, &#8220;call me Ginger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t blame them,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Perhaps
+you wouldn&#8217;t mind thinking of me as Ginger?&#8217;&#8217;
+suggested the young man diffidently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+awfully good of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Jules
+stirred in his sleep and grunted.  No other sound came to disturb the
+stillness of the night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+were going to tell me about yourself?&#8221; said Mr. Lancelot
+(Ginger) Kemp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to tell you <i>all</i> about myself,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;not
+because I think it will interest you...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+it will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not,
+I say, because I think it will interest you...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+will, really.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+looked at him coldly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+this a duet?&#8221; she inquired, &#8220;or have I the floor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+awfully sorry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not,
+I repeat for the third time, because I think It will interest you,
+but because if I do you won&#8217;t have any excuse for not telling
+me your life-history, and you wouldn&#8217;t believe how inquisitive
+I am.  Well, in the first place, I live in America.  I&#8217;m over
+here on a holiday.  And it&#8217;s the first real holiday I&#8217;ve
+had in three years&#8212;since I left home, in fact.&#8221; Sally
+paused.  &#8220;I ran away from home,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+egg!&#8221; said Ginger Kemp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+beg your pardon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean, quite right.  I bet you were quite right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+I say home,&#8221; Sally went on, &#8220;it was only a sort of
+imitation home, you know.  One of those just-as-good homes which are
+never as satisfactory as the real kind.  My father and mother both
+died a good many years ago.  My brother and I were dumped down on the
+reluctant doorstep of an uncle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Uncles,&#8221;
+said Ginger Kemp, feelingly, &#8220;are the devil.  I&#8217;ve got
+an... but I&#8217;m interrupting you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+uncle was our trustee.  He had control of all my brother&#8217;s
+money and mine till I was twenty-one.  My brother was to get his when
+he was twenty-five.  My poor father trusted him blindly, and what do
+you think happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+Lord! The blighter embezzled the lot?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+not a cent.  Wasn&#8217;t it extraordinary! Have you ever heard of a
+blindly trusted uncle who was perfectly honest? Well, mine was.  But
+the trouble was that, while an excellent man to have looking after
+one&#8217;s money, he wasn&#8217;t a very lovable character.  He was
+very hard.  Hard! He was as hard as&#8212;well, nearly as hard as
+this seat.  He hated poor Fill...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Phil?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+broke it to you just now that my brother&#8217;s name was Fillmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+your brother.  Oh, ah, yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+was always picking on poor Fill.  And I&#8217;m bound to say that
+Fill rather laid himself out as what you might call a pickee.  He was
+always getting into trouble.  One day, about three years ago, he was
+expelled from Harvard, and my uncle vowed he would have nothing more
+to do with him.  So I said, if Fill left, I would leave.  And, as
+this seemed to be my uncle&#8217;s idea of a large evening, no
+objection was raised, and Fill and I departed.  We went to New York,
+and there we&#8217;ve been ever since.  About six months&#8217; ago
+Fill passed the twenty-five mark and collected his money, and last
+month I marched past the given point and got mine.  So it all ends
+happily, you see.  Now tell me about yourself.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+I say, you know, dash it, you&#8217;ve skipped a lot.  I mean to say,
+you must have had an awful time in New York, didn&#8217;t you? How on
+earth did you get along?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+we found work.  My brother tried one or two things, and finally
+became an assistant stage-manager with some theatre people.  The only
+thing I could do, having been raised in enervating luxury, was
+ballroom dancing, so I ball-room danced.  I got a job at a place in
+Broadway called &#8216;The Flower Garden&#8217; as what is humorously
+called an &#8216;instructress,&#8217; as if anybody could &#8216;instruct&#8217;
+the men who came there.  One was lucky if one saved one&#8217;s life
+and wasn&#8217;t quashed to death.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+perfectly foul!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I don&#8217;t know.  It was rather fun for a while.  Still,&#8221;
+said Sally, meditatively, &#8220;I&#8217;m not saying I could have
+held out much longer: I was beginning to give.  I suppose I&#8217;ve
+been trampled underfoot by more fat men than any other girl of my age
+in America.  I don&#8217;t know why it was, but every man who came in
+who was a bit overweight seemed to make for me by instinct.  That&#8217;s
+why I like to sit on the sands here and watch these Frenchmen
+bathing.  It&#8217;s just heavenly to lie back and watch a two
+hundred and fifty pound man, coming along and feel that he isn&#8217;t
+going to dance with me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+I say! How absolutely rotten it must have been for you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8217;ll tell you one thing.  It&#8217;s going to make me a very
+domesticated wife one of these days.  You won&#8217;t find <i>me
+</i>gadding about in gilded jazz-palaces! For me, a little place in
+the country somewhere, with my knitting and an Elsie book, and bed at
+half-past nine! And now tell me the story of your life.  And make it
+long because I&#8217;m perfectly certain there&#8217;s going to be no
+relief-expedition.  I&#8217;m sure the last dweller under this roof
+came in years ago.  We shall be here till morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+really think we had better shout, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+lose Jules his job? Never!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+of course, I&#8217;m sorry for poor old Jules&#8217; troubles, but I
+hate to think of you having to&#8230;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+get on with the story,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">6</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+Kemp exhibited some of the symptoms of a young bridegroom called upon
+at a wedding-breakfast to respond to the toast.  He moved his feet
+restlessly and twisted his fingers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+hate talking about myself, you know,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So
+I supposed,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;That&#8217;s why I gave you my
+autobiography first, to give you no chance of backing out.  Don&#8217;t
+be such a shrinking violet.  We&#8217;re all shipwrecked mariners
+here.  I am intensely interested in your narrative.  And, even if I
+wasn&#8217;t, I&#8217;d much rather listen to it than to Jules&#8217;
+snoring.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+<i>is</i> snoring a bit, what? Does it annoy you? Shall I stir him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+seem to have an extraordinary brutal streak in your nature,&#8221;
+said Sally.  &#8220;You appear to think of nothing else but schemes
+for harassing poor Jules.  Leave him alone for a second, and start
+telling me about yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Where
+shall I start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+not with your childhood, I think.  We&#8217;ll skip that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;
+Ginger Kemp knitted his brow, searching for a dramatic opening.
+&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m more or less what you might call an orphan,
+like you.  I mean to say, both my people are dead and all that sort
+of thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+for explaining.  That has made it quite clear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can&#8217;t remember my mother.  My father died when I was in my last
+year at Cambridge.  I&#8217;d been having a most awfully good time at
+the &#8216;varsity,&#8217; &#8221; said Ginger, warming to his theme.
+ &#8220;Not thick, you know, but good.  I&#8217;d got my rugger and
+boxing blues and I&#8217;d just been picked for scrum-half for
+England against the North in the first trial match, and between
+ourselves it really did look as if I was more or less of a snip for
+my international.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gazed at him wide eyed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+that good or bad?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Are
+you reciting a catalogue of your crimes, or do you expect me to get
+up and cheer? What is a rugger blue, to start with?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it&#8217;s... it&#8217;s a rugger blue, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I see,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;You mean a rugger blue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean to say, I played rugger&#8212;footer&#8212;that&#8217;s to say,
+football&#8212;Rugby football&#8212;for Cambridge, against Oxford.  I
+was scrum-half.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+what is a scrum-half?&#8221; asked Sally, patiently.  &#8220;Yes, I
+know you&#8217;re going to say it&#8217;s a scrum-half, but can&#8217;t
+you make it easier?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+scrum-half,&#8221; said Ginger, &#8220;is the half who works the
+scrum.  He slings the pill out to the fly-half, who starts the
+three-quarters going.  I don&#8217;t know if you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+dashed hard to explain,&#8221; said Ginger Kemp, unhappily.  &#8220;I
+mean, I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ve ever met anyone before who
+didn&#8217;t know what a scrum-half was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I can see that it has something to do with football, so we&#8217;ll
+leave it at that.  I suppose it&#8217;s something like our
+quarter-back.  And what&#8217;s an international?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+called getting your international when you play for England, you
+know.  England plays Wales, France, Ireland, and Scotland.  If it
+hadn&#8217;t been for the smash, I think I should have played for
+England against Wales.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+see at last.  What you&#8217;re trying to tell me is that you were
+very good at football.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+Kemp blushed warmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I don&#8217;t say that.  England was pretty short of scrum-halves
+that year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+a horrible thing to happen to a country! Still, you were likely to be
+picked on the All-England team when the smash came? What was the
+smash?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it turned out that the poor old pater hadn&#8217;t left a penny.  I
+never understood the process exactly, but I&#8217;d always supposed
+that we were pretty well off; and then it turned out that I hadn&#8217;t
+anything at all.  I&#8217;m bound to say it was a bit of a jar.  I
+had to come down from Cambridge and go to work in my uncle&#8217;s
+office.  Of course, I made an absolute hash of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+of course?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8217;m not a very clever sort of chap, you see.  I somehow didn&#8217;t
+seem able to grasp the workings.  After about a year, my uncle,
+getting a bit fed-up, hoofed me out and got me a mastership at a
+school, and I made a hash of that.  He got me one or two other jobs,
+and I made a hash of those.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+certainly do seem to be one of our most prominent young hashers!&#8221;
+gasped Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+am,&#8221; said Ginger, modestly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+what about Scrymgeour?&#8221; Sally asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+was the last of the jobs,&#8221; said Ginger.  &#8220;Scrymgeour is a
+pompous old ass who think&#8217;s he&#8217;s going to be Prime
+Minister some day.  He&#8217;s a big bug at the Bar and has just got
+into Parliament.  My cousin used to devil for him.  That&#8217;s how
+I got mixed up with the blighter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Your
+cousin used... ? I wish you would talk English.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+was my cousin who was with me on the beach this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+what did you say he used to do for Mr. Scrymgeour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+it&#8217;s called devilling.  My cousin&#8217;s at the Bar, too&#8212;
+one of our rising nibs, as a matter of fact...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought he was a lawyer of some kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;s
+got a long way beyond it now, but when he started he used to devil
+for Scrymgeour&#8212;assist him, don&#8217;t you know.  His name&#8217;s
+Carmyle, you know.  Perhaps you&#8217;ve heard of him? He&#8217;s
+rather a prominent johnny in his way.  Bruce Carmyle, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+haven&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+he got me this job of secretary to Scrymgeour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+why did Mr. Scrymgeour fire you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+Kemp&#8217;s face darkened.  He frowned.  Sally, watching him, felt
+that she had been right when she had guessed that he had a temper.
+She liked him none the worse for it.  Mild men did not appeal to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know if you&#8217;re fond of dogs?&#8221; said Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+used to be before this morning,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;And I
+suppose I shall be again in time.  For the moment I&#8217;ve had what
+you might call rather a surfeit of dogs.  But aren&#8217;t you
+straying from the point? I asked you why Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+telling you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+glad of that.  I didn&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+old brute,&#8221; said Ginger, frowning again, &#8220;has a dog.  A
+very jolly little spaniel.  Great pal of mine.  And Scrymgeour is the
+sort of fool who oughtn&#8217;t to be allowed to own a dog.  He&#8217;s
+one of those asses who isn&#8217;t fit to own a dog.  As a matter of
+fact, of all the blighted, pompous, bullying, shrivelled-souled old
+devils...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+moment,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;I&#8217;m getting an impression
+that you don&#8217;t like Mr. Scrymgeour.  Am I right?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought so.  Womanly intuition! Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+used to insist on the poor animal doing tricks.  I hate seeing a dog
+do tricks.  Dogs loathe it, you know.  They&#8217;re frightfully
+sensitive.  Well, Scrymgeour used to make this spaniel of his do
+tricks&#8212;fool-things that no self-respecting dogs would do: and
+eventually poor old Billy got fed up and jibbed.  He was too polite
+to bite, but he sort of shook his head and crawled under a chair.
+You&#8217;d have thought anyone would have let it go at that, but
+would old Scrymgeour? Not a bit of it! Of all the poisonous...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+I know.  Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+the thing ended in the blighter hauling him out from under the chair
+and getting more and more shirty, until finally he laid into him with
+a stick.  That is to say,&#8221; said Ginger, coldly accurate, &#8220;he
+<i>started</i> laying into him with a stick.&#8221; He brooded for a
+moment with knit brows.  &#8220;A spaniel, mind you! Can you imagine
+anyone beating a spaniel? It&#8217;s like hitting a little girl.
+Well, he&#8217;s a fairly oldish man, you know, and that hampered me
+a bit: but I got hold of the stick and broke it into about eleven
+pieces, and by great good luck it was a stick he happened to value
+rather highly.  It had a gold knob and had been presented to him by
+his constituents or something.  I minced it up a goodish bit, and
+then I told him a fair amount about himself.  And then&#8212;well,
+after that he shot me out, and I came here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not speak for a moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+were quite right,&#8221; she said at last, in a sober voice that had
+nothing in it of her customary flippancy.  She paused again.  &#8220;And
+what are you going to do now?&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ll
+get something?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes, I shall get something, I suppose.  The family will be pretty
+sick, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;For
+goodness&#8217; sake! Why do you bother about the family?&#8221;
+Sally burst out.  She could not reconcile this young man&#8217;s
+flabby dependence on his family with the enterprise and vigour which
+he had shown in his dealings with the unspeakable Scrymgeour.  Of
+course, he had been brought up to look on himself as a rich man&#8217;s
+son and appeared to have drifted as such young men are wont to do;
+but even so...&#8221;The whole trouble with you,&#8221; she said,
+embarking on a subject on which she held strong views, &#8220;is
+that...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her
+harangue was interrupted by what&#8212;at the Normandie, at one
+o&#8217;clock in the morning&#8212;practically amounted to a miracle.
+ The front door of the hotel opened, and there entered a young man in
+evening dress.  Such persons were sufficiently rare at the Normandie,
+which catered principally for the staid and middle-aged, and this
+youth&#8217;s presence was due, if one must pause to explain it, to
+the fact that, in the middle of his stay at Roville, a disastrous
+evening at the Casino had so diminished his funds that he had been
+obliged to make a hurried shift from the Hotel Splendide to the
+humbler Normandie.  His late appearance to-night was caused by the
+fact that he had been attending a dance at the Splendide, principally
+in the hope of finding there some kind-hearted friend of his
+prosperity from whom he might borrow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+rapid-fire dialogue having taken place between Jules and the
+newcomer, the keys were handed through the cage, the door opened and
+the lift was set once more in motion.  And a few minutes later,
+Sally, suddenly aware of an overpowering sleepiness, had switched off
+her light and jumped into bed.  Her last waking thought was a regret
+that she had not been able to speak at length to Mr. Ginger Kemp on
+the subject of enterprise, and resolve that the address should be
+delivered at the earliest opportunity.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">THE DIGNIFIED MR. CARMYLE</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+
+<p class="normal">By
+six o&#8217;clock on the following evening, however.   Sally had been
+forced to the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through
+life as best he could without the assistance of her contemplated
+remarks: for she had seen nothing of him all day and in another hour
+she would have left Roville on the seven-fifteen express which was to
+take her to Paris, <i>en route</i> for Cherbourg and the liner
+whereon she had booked her passage for New York.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,
+having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of
+an amiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale.
+She disliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted
+him.  Like so many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a
+great degree the quality of interesting herself in&#8212;or, as her
+brother Fillmore preferred to put it, messing about with&#8212;the
+private affairs of others.  Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom
+it was worth while to give a friendly shove on the right path; and it
+was with much gratification, therefore, that, having entered the
+Casino, she perceived a flaming head shining through the crowd which
+had gathered at one of the roulette-tables.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer.  The one on the Promenade goes in
+mostly for sea-air and a mild game called <i>boule.  </i>It is the
+big Casino Municipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway
+station which is the haunt of the earnest gambler who means business;
+and it was plain to Sally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not
+only meant business but was getting results.  Ginger was going
+extremely strong.  He was entrenched behind an opulent-looking mound
+of square counters: and, even as Sally looked, a wooden-faced
+croupier shoved a further instalment across the table to him at the
+end of his long rake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Epatant!&#8221;</i>
+murmured a wistful man at Sally&#8217;s side, removing an elbow from
+her ribs in order the better to gesticulate Sally, though no French
+scholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified.  The entire
+crowd seemed to be startled and gratified.  There is undoubtedly a
+certain altruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continental
+roulette-table.  They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeing
+somebody else win.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheel
+a twist with his right, and silence fell again.  Sally, who had
+shifted to a spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was
+now able to see Ginger&#8217;s face, and as she saw it she gave an
+involuntary laugh.  He looked exactly like a dog at a rat-hole.  His
+hair seemed to bristle with excitement.  One could almost fancy that
+his ears were pricked up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In
+the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of the
+wheel, Sally&#8217;s laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness.
+It had a marked effect on all those within hearing.  There is
+something almost of religious ecstasy in the deportment of the
+spectators at a table where anyone is having a run of luck at
+roulette, and if she had guffawed in a cathedral she could not have
+caused a more pained consternation.  The earnest worshippers gazed at
+her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turning with a start, saw her and
+jumped up.  As he did so, the ball fell with a rattling click into a
+red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased to revolve and it was
+seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrong colour, a
+shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that which
+convulses the penitents&#8217; bench at a negro revival meeting.
+More glances of reproach were cast at Sally.  It was generally felt
+that her injudicious behaviour had changed Ginger&#8217;s luck.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself.
+He gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his
+way to where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of
+the crowd as a pariah.  There was universal regret that he had
+decided to call it a day.  It was to the spectators as though a star
+had suddenly walked off the stage in the middle of his big scene; and
+not even a loud and violent quarrel which sprang up at this moment
+between two excitable gamblers over a disputed five-franc counter
+could wholly console them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say,&#8221; said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd,
+&#8220;this is topping, meeting you like this.  I&#8217;ve been
+looking for you everywhere.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+funny you didn&#8217;t find me, then, for that&#8217;s where I&#8217;ve
+been.  I was looking for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+really?&#8221; Ginger seemed pleased.  He led the way to the quiet
+ante-room outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner.
+It was pleasant here, with nobody near except the gorgeously
+uniformed attendant over by the door.  &#8220;That was awfully good
+of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+felt I must have a talk with you before my train went.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+started violently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Your
+train? What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+puff-puff,&#8221; explained Sally.  &#8220;I&#8217;m leaving
+to-night, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Leaving?&#8221;
+Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of the congregation of
+which Sally had just ceased to be a member.  &#8220;You don&#8217;t
+mean <i>leaving?</i> You&#8217;re not going away from Roville?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why? Where are you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Back
+to America.  My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my aunt!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+sorry,&#8221; said Sally, touched by his concern.  She was a
+warm-hearted girl and liked being appreciated.  &#8220;But...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say...&#8221; Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him
+at the uniformed official, who was regarding their <i>tête-à-tête</i>
+with the indulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing
+himself.  &#8220;I say, look here, will you marry me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement.  Ginger, she had
+realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, but
+she had not expected him to be as surprising as this.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Marry
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+know what I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+yes, I suppose I do.  You allude to the holy state.  Yes, I know what
+you mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Then
+how about it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+began to regain her composure.  Her sense of humour was tickled.  She
+looked at Ginger gravely.  He did not meet her eye, but continued to
+drink in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by
+the romance of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under
+his breath.  The official could not hear what they were saying, and
+would not have been able to understand it even if he could have
+heard; but he was an expert in the language of the eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+isn&#8217;t this&#8212;don&#8217;t think I am trying to make
+difficulties&#8212;isn&#8217;t this a little sudden?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+got to be sudden,&#8221; said Ginger Kemp, complainingly.  &#8220;I
+thought you were going to be here for weeks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practically
+strangers?&#8221; She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the
+uniformed official to heave a tender sigh.  &#8220;I see what has
+happened,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;You&#8217;re mistaking me for some
+other girl, some girl you know really well, and were properly
+introduced to.  Take a good look at me, and you&#8217;ll see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I take a good look at you,&#8221; said Ginger, feverishly, &#8220;I&#8217;m
+dashed if I&#8217;ll answer for the consequences.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+this is the man I was going to lecture on &#8216;Enterprise.&#8217; &#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+the most wonderful girl I&#8217;ve ever met, dash it!&#8221; said
+Ginger, his gaze still riveted on the official by the door &#8220;I
+dare say it <i>is</i> sudden.  I can&#8217;t help that.  I fell in
+love with you the moment I saw you, and there you are!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now,
+look here, I know I&#8217;m not much of a chap and all that, but...
+well, I&#8217;ve just won the deuce of a lot of money in there...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Would
+you buy me with your gold?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I&#8217;ve
+made an infernal hash of everything I&#8217;ve tried up till now, but
+there must be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I&#8217;d
+have a goodish stab at it.  I mean to say, with you to buck me up and
+so forth, don&#8217;t you know.  Well, I mean...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Has
+it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+golly! Are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For
+the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in his
+eyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out of
+her.  Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+yes, as a matter of fact I am,&#8221; she said soberly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+well, that&#8217;s torn it!&#8221; he said at last.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse.  There was pity in
+it, but amusement too.  The emotion, though she did not recognize it,
+was maternal.  Mothers, listening to their children pleading with
+engaging absurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow,
+feel that same wavering between tears and laughter.  Sally wanted to
+pick Ginger up and kiss him.  The one thing she could not do was to
+look on him, sorry as she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t really mean it, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+I!&#8221; said Ginger, hollowly.  &#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t I!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+can&#8217;t! There isn&#8217;t such a thing in real life as love at
+first sight.  Love&#8217;s a thing that comes when you know a person
+well and...&#8221; She paused.  It had just occurred to her that she
+was hardly the girl to lecture in this strain.  Her love for Gerald
+Foster had been sufficiently sudden, even instantaneous.  What did
+she know of Gerald except that she loved him? They had become engaged
+within two weeks of their first meeting.  She found this recollection
+damping to her eloquence, and ended by saying tamely:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+ridiculous.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+couldn&#8217;t have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway,&#8221;
+he said, sombrely.  &#8220;I&#8217;m not much of a chap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sally
+had been longing to find.  She welcomed the chance of continuing the
+conversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,&#8221; she said, seizing
+the opportunity offered by this display of humility.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+been looking for you all day to go on with what I was starting to say
+in the lift last night when we were interrupted.  Do you mind if I
+talk to you like an aunt&#8212;or a sister, suppose we say? Really,
+the best plan would be for you to adopt me as an honorary sister.
+What do you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Because
+I really do take a tremendous interest in you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+brightened.  &#8220;That&#8217;s awfully good of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to speak words of wisdom.  Ginger, why don&#8217;t you brace
+up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Brace
+up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square your
+elbows, and really amount to something.  Why do you simply flop about
+and do nothing and leave everything to what you call &#8216;the
+family&#8217;? Why do you have to be helped all the time? Why don&#8217;t
+you help yourself? Why do you have to have jobs found for you? Why
+don&#8217;t you rush out and get one? Why do you have to worry about
+what, &#8216;the family&#8217; thinks of you? Why don&#8217;t you
+make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck, suddenly
+finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens,
+everybody else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke
+at one time or another.  It&#8217;s part of the fun.  You&#8217;ll
+never get anywhere by letting yourself be picked up by the family
+like... like a floppy Newfoundland puppy and dumped down in any old
+place that happens to suit them.  A job&#8217;s a thing you&#8217;ve
+got to choose for yourself and get for yourself.  Think what you can
+do&#8212;there must be something&#8212;and then go at it with a snort
+and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take a joke.  You&#8217;ve
+managed to collect some money.  It will give you time to look round.
+And, when you&#8217;ve had a look round, <i>do</i> something! Try to
+realize you&#8217;re alive, and try to imagine the family isn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stopped and drew a deep breath.  Ginger Kemp did not reply for a
+moment.  He seemed greatly impressed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+you talk quick,&#8221; he said at length, in a serious meditative
+voice, &#8220;your nose sort of goes all squiggly.  Ripping, it
+looks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+uttered an indignant cry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mean to say you haven&#8217;t been listening to a word I&#8217;ve
+been saying,&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+rather! Oh, by Jove, yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+what did I say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You...
+er... And your eyes sort of shine, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Never
+mind my eyes.  What did I say?&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+told me,&#8221; said Ginger, on reflection, &#8220;to get a job.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+yes.  I put it much better than that, but that&#8217;s what it
+amounted to, I suppose.  All right, then.  I&#8217;m glad you...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+was eyeing her with mournful devotion.  &#8220;I say,&#8221; he
+interrupted, &#8220;I wish you&#8217;d let me write to you.
+Letters, I mean, and all that.  I have an idea it would kind of buck
+me up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+won&#8217;t have time for writing letters.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have time to write them to you.  You haven&#8217;t an address or
+anything of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, so
+that I&#8217;d know where to write to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can give you an address which will always find me.&#8221; She told
+him the number and street of Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s boarding-house, and
+he wrote them down reverently on his shirt-cuff.  &#8220;Yes, on
+second thoughts, do write,&#8221; she said.   &#8220;Of course, I
+shall want to know how you&#8217;ve got on.  I... oh, my goodness!
+That clock&#8217;s not right?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Just
+about.  What time does your train go?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go!
+It&#8217;s gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds.&#8221;
+She made a rush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed
+official who had not been expecting this sudden activity.  &#8220;Good-bye,
+Ginger.  Write to me, and remember what I said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger,
+alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question of
+physical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and they
+emerged together and started running down the square.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Stick
+it!&#8221; said Ginger, encouragingly.  He was running easily and
+well, as becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his
+international at scrum-half.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+saved her breath.  The train was beginning to move slowly out of the
+station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform.  Ginger dived
+for the nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in his
+arms, and flung her in.  She landed squarely on the toes of a man who
+occupied the corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the
+window.  Ginger, faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train
+as it gathered speed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger!
+My poor porter! Tip him.  I forgot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Right
+ho!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+don&#8217;t forget what I&#8217;ve been saying.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Right
+ho!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Look
+after yourself and &#8216;Death to the Family!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Right
+ho!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+train passed smoothly out of the station.  Sally cast one last look
+back at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving a
+handkerchief.  Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of
+the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+so sorry,&#8221; she said, breathlessly.  &#8220;I hope I didn&#8217;t
+hurt you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+found herself facing Ginger&#8217;s cousin, the dark man of
+yesterday&#8217;s episode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed by
+life&#8217;s little surprises, but at the present moment he could not
+help feeling slightly dazed.  He recognized Sally now as the French
+girl who had attracted his cousin Lancelot&#8217;s notice on the
+beach.  At least he had assumed that she was French, and it was
+startling to be addressed by her now in fluent English.  How had she
+suddenly acquired this gift of tongues? And how on earth had she had
+time since yesterday, when he had been a total stranger to her, to
+become sufficiently intimate with Cousin Lancelot to be sprinting
+with him down station platforms and addressing him out of
+railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmyle was aware that most
+members of that sub-species of humanity, his cousin&#8217;s personal
+friends, called him by that familiar&#8212;and, so Carmyle held,
+vulgar&#8212;nickname: but how had this girl got hold of it?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If
+Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly have looked
+disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid sense of
+the proprieties a nasty jar.  But as, panting and flushed from her
+run, she was prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived to
+smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+at all,&#8221; he said in answer to her question, though it was far
+from the truth.  His left big toe was aching confoundedly.  Even a
+girl with a foot as small as Sally&#8217;s can make her presence felt
+on a man&#8217;s toe if the scrum-half who is handling her aims well
+and uses plenty of vigour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you don&#8217;t mind,&#8221; said Sally, sitting down, &#8220;I think
+I&#8217;ll breathe a little.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+breathed.  The train sped on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Quite
+a close thing,&#8221; said Bruce Carmyle, affably.  The pain in his
+toe was diminishing.  &#8220;You nearly missed it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me.  He throws very straight, doesn&#8217;t
+he.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Tell
+me,&#8221; said Carmyle, &#8220;how do you come to know my Cousin? On
+the beach yesterday morning...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+we didn&#8217;t know each other then.  But we were staying at the
+same hotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator
+together.  That was when we really got acquainted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English that
+dinner was served in the restaurant car.  &#8220;Would you care for
+dinner?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+starving,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, for being
+so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance.  This man was
+perfectly pleasant in spite of his grim exterior.  She had decided by
+the time they had seated themselves at the table she liked him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+the table, however, Mr. Carmyle&#8217;s manner changed for the worse.
+ He lost his amiability.  He was evidently a man who took his meals
+seriously and believed in treating waiters with severity.  He
+shuddered austerely at a stain on the table-cloth, and then
+concentrated himself frowningly on the bill of fare.  Sally,
+meanwhile, was establishing cosy relations with the much too friendly
+waiter, a cheerful old man who from the start seemed to have made up
+his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter.  The waiter talked no
+English and Sally no French, but they were getting along capitally,
+when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving aside the servitor&#8217;s
+light-hearted advice&#8212;at the Hotel Splendide the waiters never
+bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side of your
+face&#8212;gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of the
+travelling Briton.  The waiter remarked, <i>&#8220;Boum!&#8221;</i>
+in a pleased sort of way, and vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nice
+old man!&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Infernally
+familiar!&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did not
+see eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived
+from any discussion centring about him.  She changed the subject.
+She was not liking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few
+minutes ago, but it was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she
+tried to like him as much as she could.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;By
+the way,&#8221; she said, &#8220;my name is Nicholas.  I always think
+it&#8217;s a good thing to start with names, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mine...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I know yours.  Ginger&#8212;Mr. Kemp told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle, who since the waiter&#8217;s departure, had been thawing,
+stiffened again at the mention of Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Indeed?&#8221;
+he said, coldly.  &#8220;Apparently you got intimate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not like his tone.  He seemed to be criticizing her, and she
+resented criticism from a stranger.  Her eyes opened wide and she
+looked dangerously across the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+&#8216;apparently&#8217;? I told you that we had got intimate, and I
+explained how.  You can&#8217;t stay shut up in an elevator half the
+night with anybody without getting to know him.  I found Mr. Kemp
+very pleasant.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Really?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+very interesting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle raised his eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Would
+you call him interesting?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+<i>did</i> call him interesting.&#8221; Sally was beginning to feel
+the exhilaration of battle.  Men usually made themselves extremely
+agreeable to her, and she reacted belligerently under the stiff
+unfriendliness which had come over her companion in the last few
+minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+told me all about himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+you found that interesting?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;
+A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s dark face.
+ &#8220;My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt&#8212;he
+used to play football well, and I understand that he is a capable
+amateur pugilist&#8212;but I should not have supposed him
+entertaining.  We find him a little dull.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought it was only royalty that called themselves &#8216;we.&#8217;
+&#8220;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+meant myself&#8212;and the rest of the family.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+mention of the family was too much for Sally.  She had to stop
+talking in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour,&#8221; she went on at
+length.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French bread which
+the waiter had placed on the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Indeed?&#8221;
+he said.  &#8220;He has an engaging lack of reticence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>V&#8217;la!&#8221;</i>
+he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who has successfully
+performed a difficult conjuring trick.  He smiled at Sally
+expectantly, as though confident of applause from this section of his
+audience at least.  But Sally&#8217;s face was set and rigid.  She
+had been snubbed, and the sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think Mr. Kemp had hard luck,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle&#8217;s attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but
+she was a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not
+to be discussed with strangers, however prepossessing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+was quite in the right.  Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+heard the details.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I didn&#8217;t know that.  Well, don&#8217;t you agree with me,
+then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+do not.  A man who would throw away an excellent position simply
+because...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+well, if that&#8217;s your view, I suppose it <i>is</i> useless to
+talk about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Quite.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Still,
+there&#8217;s no harm in asking what you propose to do about
+Gin&#8212;about Mr. Kemp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle became more glacial.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid I cannot discuss...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got the better
+of her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+for goodness&#8217; sake,&#8221; she snapped, &#8220;do try to be
+human, and don&#8217;t always be snubbing people.  You remind me of
+one of those portraits of men in the eighteenth century, with wooden
+faces, who look out of heavy gold frames at you with fishy eyes as if
+you were a regrettable incident.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Rosbif,&#8221;
+said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly beside them as
+if he had popped up out of a trap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely.  Sally who was in the mood
+when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, but was
+full of battle at the moment, sat in silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+am sorry,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, &#8220;if my eyes are
+fishy.  The fact has not been called to my attention before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+suppose you never had any sisters,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;They
+would have told you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till the
+waiter had brought the coffee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think,&#8221; said Sally, getting up, &#8220;I&#8217;ll be going now.
+ I don&#8217;t seem to want any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say
+something rude.  I thought I might be able to put in a good word for
+Mr. Kemp and save him from being massacred, but apparently it&#8217;s
+no use.  Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, and thank you for giving me dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s
+indignant, yet fascinated, gaze.  Strange emotions were stirring in
+Mr. Carmyle&#8217;s bosom.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">GINGER IN DANGEROUS MOOD</h3>
+
+
+<p class="normal">Some
+few days later, owing to the fact that the latter, being
+preoccupied, did not see him first, Bruce Carmyle met his cousin
+Lancelot in Piccadilly.  They had returned by different routes from
+Roville, and Ginger would have preferred the separation to continue.
+He was hurrying on with a nod, when Carmyle stopped him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Just
+the man I wanted to see,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+hullo!&#8221; said Ginger, without joy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was thinking of calling at your club.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Cigarette?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+peered at the proffered case with the vague suspicion of the man who
+has allowed himself to be lured on to the platform and is accepting a
+card from the conjurer.  He felt bewildered.  In all the years of
+their acquaintance he could not recall another such exhibition of
+geniality on his cousin&#8217;s part.  He was surprised, indeed, at
+Mr. Carmyle&#8217;s speaking to him at all, for the <i>affaire</i>
+Scrymgeour remained an un-healed wound, and the Family, Ginger knew,
+were even now in session upon it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Been
+back in London long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Day
+or two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+heard quite by accident that you had returned and that you were
+staying at the club.  By the way, thank you for introducing me to
+Miss Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+started violently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was in that compartment, you know, at Roville Station.  You threw her
+right on top of me.  We agreed to consider that an introduction.  An
+attractive girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle had not entirely made up his mind regarding Sally, but on one
+point he was clear, that she should not, if he could help it, pass
+out of his life.  Her abrupt departure had left him with that baffled
+and dissatisfied feeling which, though it has little in common with
+love at first sight, frequently produces the same effects.  She had
+had, he could not disguise it from himself, the better of their late
+encounter and he was conscious of a desire to meet her again and show
+her that there was more in him than she apparently supposed.  Bruce
+Carmyle, in a word, was piqued: and, though he could not quite decide
+whether he liked or disliked Sally, he was very sure that a future
+without her would have an element of flatness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+very attractive girl.  We had a very pleasant talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+bet you did,&#8221; said Ginger enviously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;By
+the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why?&#8221;
+said Ginger suspiciously.  His attitude towards Sally&#8217;s address
+resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique
+work of art.  He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8212;er&#8212;I promised to send her some books she was anxious to
+read...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shouldn&#8217;t think she gets much time for reading.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Books
+which are not published in America.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to be,
+I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+these particular books are not,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle shortly.  He
+was finding Ginger&#8217;s reserve a little trying, and wished that
+he had been more inventive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Give
+them to me and I&#8217;ll send them to her,&#8221; suggested Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+Lord, man!&#8221; snapped Mr. Carmyle.  &#8220;I&#8217;m capable of
+sending a few books to America.  Where does she live?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+revealed the sacred number of the holy street which had the luck to
+be Sally&#8217;s headquarters.  He did it because with a persistent
+devil like his cousin there seemed no way of getting out of it: but
+he did it grudgingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks.&#8221;
+Bruce Carmyle wrote the information down with a gold pencil in a
+dapper little morocco-bound note-book.  He was the sort of man who
+always has a pencil, and the backs of old envelopes never enter into
+his life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.  Bruce Carmyle coughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+saw Uncle Donald this morning,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+manner had lost its geniality.  There was no need for it now, and he
+was a man who objected to waste.  He spoke coldly, and in his voice
+there was a familiar sub-tingle of reproof.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;
+said Ginger moodily.  This was the uncle in whose office he had made
+his debut as a hasher: a worthy man, highly respected in the National
+Liberal Club, but never a favourite of Ginger&#8217;s.  There were
+other minor uncles and a few subsidiary aunts who went to make up the
+Family, but Uncle Donald was unquestionably the managing director of
+that body and it was Ginger&#8217;s considered opinion that in this
+capacity he approximated to a human blister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+wants you to dine with him to-night at Bleke&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+depression deepened.  A dinner with Uncle Donald would hardly have
+been a cheerful function, even in the surroundings of a banquet in
+the Arabian Nights.  There was that about Uncle Donald&#8217;s
+personality which would have cast a sobering influence over the
+orgies of the Emperor Tiberius at Capri.  To dine with him at a
+morgue like that relic of Old London, Bleke&#8217;s Coffee House,
+which confined its custom principally to regular patrons who had not
+missed an evening there for half a century, was to touch something
+very near bed-rock.  Ginger was extremely doubtful whether flesh and
+blood were equal to it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To-night?&#8221;
+he said.  &#8220;Oh, you mean to-night? Well...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be a fool.  You know as well as I do that you&#8217;ve got to go.&#8221;
+Uncle Donald&#8217;s invitations were royal commands in the Family.
+&#8220;If you&#8217;ve another engagement you must put it off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Seven-thirty
+sharp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+right,&#8221; said Ginger gloomily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+two men went their ways, Bruce Carmyle eastwards because he had
+clients to see in his chambers at the Temple; Ginger westwards
+because Mr. Carmyle had gone east.  There was little sympathy between
+these cousins: yet, oddly enough, their thoughts as they walked
+centred on the same object.  Bruce Carmyle, threading his way briskly
+through the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, was thinking of Sally: and
+so was Ginger as he loafed aimlessly towards Hyde Park Corner,
+bumping in a sort of coma from pedestrian to pedestrian.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Since
+his return to London Ginger had been in bad shape.  He mooned through
+the days and slept poorly at night.  If there is one thing rottener
+than another in a pretty blighted world, one thing which gives a
+fellow the pip and reduces him to the condition of an absolute onion,
+it is hopeless love.  Hopeless love had got Ginger all stirred up.
+His had been hitherto a placid soul.  Even the financial crash which
+had so altered his life had not bruised him very deeply.  His
+temperament had enabled him to bear the slings and arrows of
+outrageous fortune with a philosophic &#8220;Right ho!&#8221; But now
+everything seemed different.  Things irritated him acutely, which
+before he had accepted as inevitable&#8212;his Uncle Donald&#8217;s
+moustache, for instance, and its owner&#8217;s habit of employing it
+during meals as a sort of zareba or earthwork against the assaults of
+soup.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;By
+gad!&#8221; thought Ginger, stopping suddenly opposite Devonshire
+House.  &#8220;If he uses that damned shrubbery as soup-strainer
+to-night, I&#8217;ll slosh him with a fork!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hard
+thoughts... hard thoughts! And getting harder all the time, for
+nothing grows more quickly than a mood of rebellion.  Rebellion is a
+forest fire that flames across the soul.  The spark had been lighted
+in Ginger, and long before he reached Hyde Park Corner he was ablaze
+and crackling.  By the time he returned to his club he was
+practically a menace to society&#8212;to that section of it, at any
+rate, which embraced his Uncle Donald, his minor uncles George and
+William, and his aunts Mary, Geraldine, and Louise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nor
+had the mood passed when he began to dress for the dismal festivities
+of Bleke&#8217;s Coffee House.  He scowled as he struggled morosely
+with an obstinate tie.  One cannot disguise the fact&#8212;Ginger was
+warming up.  And it was just at this moment that Fate, as though it
+had been waiting for the psychological instant, applied the finishing
+touch.  There was a knock at the door, and a waiter came in with a
+telegram.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+looked at the envelope.  It had been readdressed and forwarded on
+from the Hotel Normandie.  It was a wireless, handed in on board the
+White Star liner <i>Olympic, </i>and it ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Remember.
+ Death to the Family.  S.</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+sat down heavily on the bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+driver of the taxi-cab which at twenty-five minutes past seven drew
+up at the dingy door of Bleke&#8217;s Coffee House in the Strand was
+rather struck by his fare&#8217;s manner and appearance.  A
+determined-looking sort of young bloke, was the taxi-driver&#8217;s
+verdict.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SALLY HEARS NEWS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+had been Sally&#8217;s intention, on arriving in New York, to take a
+room at the St. Regis and revel in the gilded luxury to which her
+wealth entitled her before moving into the small but comfortable
+apartment which, as soon as she had the time, she intended to find
+and make her permanent abode.  But when the moment came and she was
+giving directions to the taxi-driver at the dock, there seemed to her
+something revoltingly Fillmorian about the scheme.  It would be time
+enough to sever herself from the boarding-house which had been her
+home for three years when she had found the apartment.  Meanwhile,
+the decent thing to do, if she did not want to brand herself in the
+sight of her conscience as a female Fillmore, was to go back
+temporarily to Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s admirable establishment and
+foregather with her old friends.  After all, home is where the heart
+is, even if there are more prunes there than the gourmet would
+consider judicious.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Perhaps
+it was the unavoidable complacency induced by the thought that she
+was doing the right thing, or possibly it was the tingling
+expectation of meeting Gerald Foster again after all these weeks of
+separation, that made the familiar streets seem wonderfully bright as
+she drove through them.  It was a perfect, crisp New York morning,
+all blue sky and amber sunshine, and even the ash-cans had a
+stimulating look about them.  The street cars were full of happy
+people rollicking off to work: policemen directed the traffic with
+jaunty affability: and the white-clad street-cleaners went about
+their poetic tasks with a quiet but none the less noticeable relish.
+It was improbable that any of these people knew that she was back,
+but somehow they all seemed to be behaving as though this were a
+special day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+first discordant note in this overture of happiness was struck by
+Mrs. Meecher, who informed Sally, after expressing her gratification
+at the news that she required her old room, that Gerald Foster had
+left town that morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Gone
+to Detroit, he has,&#8221; said Mrs. Meecher.  &#8220;Miss Doland,
+too.&#8221; She broke off to speak a caustic word to the
+boarding-house handyman, who, with Sally&#8217;s trunk as a weapon,
+was depreciating the value of the wall-paper in the hall.  &#8220;There&#8217;s
+that play of his being tried out there, you know, Monday,&#8221;
+resumed Mrs. Meecher, after the handyman had bumped his way up the
+staircase.  &#8220;They been rehearsing ever since you left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was disappointed, but it was such a beautiful morning, and New York
+was so wonderful after the dull voyage in the liner that she was not
+going to allow herself to be depressed without good reason.  After
+all, she could go on to Detroit tomorrow.  It was nice to have
+something to which she could look forward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+is Elsa in the company?&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sure.
+ And very good too, I hear.&#8221; Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of
+theatrical gossip.  She was an ex-member of the profession herself,
+having been in the first production of &#8220;Florodora,&#8221;
+though, unlike everybody else, not one of the original Sextette.
+&#8220;Mr. Faucitt was down to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss
+Doland was fine.  And he&#8217;s not easy to please, as you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+is Mr. Faucitt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
+tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
+Sally&#8217;s uplifted mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Poor
+old gentleman, he ain&#8217;t over and above well.  Went to bed early
+last night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he
+<i>don&#8217;t</i> look well.  There&#8217;s a lot of this Spanish
+influenza about.  It might be that.  Lots o&#8217; people have been
+dying of it, if you believe what you see in the papers,&#8221; said
+Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+gracious! You don&#8217;t think... ?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+he ain&#8217;t turned black,&#8221; admitted Mrs. Meecher with
+regret.  &#8220;They say they turn black.  If you believe what you
+see in the papers, that is.  Of course, that may come later,&#8221;
+she added with the air of one confident that all will come right in
+the future.  &#8220;The doctor&#8217;ll be in to see him pretty soon.
+ He&#8217;s quite happy.  Toto&#8217;s sitting with him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+concern increased.  Like everyone who had ever spent any length of
+time in the house, she had strong views on Toto.  This quadruped, who
+stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a
+small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to
+bear with equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range
+of a sick man.  Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt.  Mrs. Meecher, on the
+other hand, who held a faith in her little pet&#8217;s amiability and
+power to soothe which seven years&#8217; close association had been
+unable to shake, seemed to feel that, with Toto on the spot, all that
+could be done had been done as far as pampering the invalid was
+concerned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+must go up and see him,&#8221; cried Sally.  &#8220;Poor old dear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sure.
+ You know his room.  You can hear Toto talking to him now,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Meecher complacently.  &#8220;He wants a cracker, that&#8217;s
+what he wants.  Toto likes a cracker after breakfast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+invalid&#8217;s eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to
+the door.  At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous
+rapture.  Almost any intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at
+that moment, for his little playmate had long outstayed any welcome
+that might originally have been his: but that the caller should be
+his beloved Sally seemed to the old man something in the nature of a
+return of the age of miracles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+moment.  Here, Toto!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Toto,
+struck momentarily dumb by the sight of food, had jumped off the bed
+and was standing with his head on one side, peering questioningly at
+the cracker.  He was a suspicious dog, but he allowed himself to be
+lured into the passage, upon which Sally threw the cracker down and
+slipped in and shut the door.  Toto, after a couple of yaps, which
+may have been gratitude or baffled fury, trotted off downstairs, and
+Mr. Faucitt drew a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally,
+you come, as ever, as an angel of mercy.  Our worthy Mrs. Meecher
+means well, and I yield to no man in my respect for her innate
+kindness of heart: but she errs in supposing that that thrice-damned
+whelp of hers is a combination of sick-nurse, soothing medicine, and
+a week at the seaside.  She insisted on bringing him here.  He was
+yapping then, as he was yapping when, with womanly resource which I
+cannot sufficiently praise, you decoyed him hence.  And each yap went
+through me like hammer-strokes on sheeted tin.  Sally, you stand
+alone among womankind.  You shine like a good deed in a naughty
+world.  When did you get back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+only just arrived in my hired barouche from the pier.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+you came to see your old friend without delay? I am grateful and
+flattered.  Sally, my dear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I came to see you.  Do you suppose that, when Mrs. Meecher
+told me you were sick, I just said &#8216;Is that so?&#8217; and went
+on talking about the weather? Well, what do you mean by it?
+Frightening everybody.  Poor old darling, do you feel very bad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+thousand individual mice are nibbling the base of my spine, and I am
+conscious of a constant need of cooling refreshment.  But what of
+that? Your presence is a tonic.  Tell me, how did our Sally enjoy
+foreign travel?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Our
+Sally had the time of her life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+you visit England?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Only
+passing through.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+did it look?&#8221; asked Mr. Faucitt eagerly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Moist.
+ Very moist.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+would,&#8221; said Mr. Faucitt indulgently.  &#8220;I confess that,
+happy as I have been in this country, there are times when I miss
+those wonderful London days, when a sort of cosy brown mist hangs
+over the streets and the pavements ooze with a perspiration of mud
+and water, and you see through the haze the yellow glow of the Bodega
+lamps shining in the distance like harbour-lights.  Not,&#8221; said
+Mr. Faucitt, &#8220;that I specify the Bodega to the exclusion of
+other and equally worthy hostelries.  I have passed just as pleasant
+hours in Rule&#8217;s and Short&#8217;s.  You missed something by not
+lingering in England, Sally.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know I did&#8212;pneumonia.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Faucitt shook his head reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+are prejudiced, my dear.  You would have enjoyed London if you had
+had the courage to brave its superficial gloom.  Where did you spend
+your holiday? Paris?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Part
+of the time.  And the rest of the while I was down by the sea.  It
+was glorious.  I don&#8217;t think I would ever have come back if I
+hadn&#8217;t had to.  But, of course, I wanted to see you all again.
+And I wanted to be at the opening of Mr. Foster&#8217;s play.  Mrs.
+Meecher tells me you went to one of the rehearsals.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal,&#8221;
+said Mr. Faucitt severely.  &#8220;There is no rehearsing nowadays.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh
+dear! Was it as bad as all that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+play is good.  The play&#8212;I will go further&#8212;is excellent.
+It has fat.  But the acting...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mrs.
+Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Our
+worthy hostess did not misreport me.  Miss Doland has great
+possibilities.  She reminds me somewhat of Matilda Devine, under
+whose banner I played a season at the Old Royalty in London many
+years ago.  She has the seeds of greatness in her, but she is wasted
+in the present case on an insignificant part.  There is only one part
+in the play.  I allude to the one murdered by Miss Mabel Hobson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Murdered!&#8221;
+Sally&#8217;s heart sank.  She had been afraid of this, and it was no
+satisfaction to feel that she had warned Gerald.  &#8220;Is she very
+terrible?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+has the face of an angel and the histrionic ability of that curious
+suet pudding which our estimable Mrs. Meecher is apt to give us on
+Fridays.  In my professional career I have seen many cases of what I
+may term the Lady Friend in the role of star, but Miss Hobson
+eclipses them all.  I remember in the year &#8217;94 a certain scion
+of the plutocracy took it into his head to present a female for whom
+he had conceived an admiration in a part which would have taxed the
+resources of the ablest.  I was engaged in her support, and at the
+first rehearsal I recollect saying to my dear old friend, Arthur
+Moseby&#8212;dead, alas, these many years.  An excellent juvenile,
+but, like so many good fellows, cursed with a tendency to lift the
+elbow&#8212;I recollect saying to him &#8216;Arthur, dear boy, I give
+it two weeks.&#8217; &#8216;Max,&#8217; was his reply, &#8216;you are
+an incurable optimist.  One consecutive night, laddie, one
+consecutive night.&#8217; We had, I recall, an even half-crown upon
+it.  He won.  We opened at Wigan, our leading lady got the bird, and
+the show closed next day.  I was forcibly reminded of this incident
+as I watched Miss Hobson rehearsing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+poor Ger&#8212;poor Mr. Foster!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+do not share your commiseration for that young man,&#8221; said Mr.
+Faucitt austerely.  &#8220;You probably are almost a stranger to him,
+but he and I have been thrown together a good deal of late.  A young
+man upon whom, mark my words, success, if it ever comes, will have
+the worst effects.  I dislike him.  Sally.  He is, I think, without
+exception, the most selfish and self-centred young man of my
+acquaintance.  He reminds me very much of old Billy Fothergill, with
+whom I toured a good deal in the later eighties.  Did I ever tell you
+the story of Billy and the amateur who... ?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was in no mood to listen to the adventures of Mr. Fothergill.  The
+old man&#8217;s innocent criticism of Gerald had stabbed her deeply.
+A momentary impulse to speak hotly in his defence died away as she
+saw Mr. Faucitt&#8217;s pale, worn old face.  He had meant no harm,
+after all.  How could he know what Gerald was to her?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+changed the conversation abruptly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Have
+you seen anything of Fillmore while I&#8217;ve been away?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore?
+Why yes, my dear, curiously enough I happened to run into him on
+Broadway only a few days ago.  He seemed changed&#8212;less stiff and
+aloof than he had been for some time past.  I may be wronging him,
+but there have been times of late when one might almost have fancied
+him a trifle up-stage.  All that was gone at our last encounter.  He
+appeared glad to see me and was most cordial.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+found her composure restored.  Her lecture on the night of the party
+had evidently, she thought, not been wasted.  Mr. Faucitt, however,
+advanced another theory to account for the change in the Man of
+Destiny.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+rather fancy,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that the softening influence has
+been the young man&#8217;s fiancée.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What?
+Fillmore&#8217;s not engaged?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+he not write and tell you? I suppose he was waiting to inform you
+when you returned.  Yes, Fillmore is betrothed.  The lady was with
+him when we met.  A Miss Winch.  In the profession, I understand.  He
+introduced me.  A very charming and sensible young lady, I thought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+shook her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+can&#8217;t be.  Fillmore would never have got engaged to anyone like
+that.  Was her hair crimson?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Brown,
+if I recollect rightly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very
+loud, I suppose, and overdressed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;On
+the contrary, neat and quiet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ve
+made a mistake,&#8221; said Sally decidedly.  &#8220;She can&#8217;t
+have been like that.  I shall have to look into this.  It does seem
+hard that I can&#8217;t go away for a few weeks without all my
+friends taking to beds of sickness and all my brothers getting
+ensnared by vampires.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+knock at the door interrupted her complaint.  Mrs. Meecher entered,
+ushering in a pleasant little man with spectacles and black bag.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+doctor to see you, Mr. Faucitt.&#8221; Mrs. Meecher cast an
+appraising eye at the invalid, as if to detect symptoms of
+approaching discoloration.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve been telling him that
+what <i>I</i> think you&#8217;ve gotten is this here new Spanish
+influenza.  Two more deaths there were in the paper this morning, if
+you can believe what you see...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wonder,&#8221; said the doctor, &#8220;if you would mind going and
+bringing me a small glass of water?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+a large glass&#8212;a small glass.  Just let the tap run for a few
+moments and take care not to spill any as you come up the stairs.  I
+always ask ladies, like our friend who has just gone,&#8221; he added
+as the door closed, &#8220;to bring me a glass of water.  It keeps
+them amused and interested and gets them out of the way, and they
+think I am going to do a conjuring trick with it.  As a matter of
+fact, I&#8217;m going to drink it.  Now let&#8217;s have a look at
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+examination did not take long.  At the end of it the doctor seemed
+somewhat chagrined.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Our
+good friend&#8217;s diagnosis was correct.  I&#8217;d give a leg to
+say it wasn&#8217;t, but it was.  It <i>is</i> this here new Spanish
+influenza.  Not a bad attack.  You want to stay in bed and keep warm,
+and I&#8217;ll write you out a prescription.  You ought to be nursed.
+ Is this young lady a nurse?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+no, merely...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I&#8217;m a nurse,&#8221; said Sally decidedly.  &#8220;It
+isn&#8217;t difficult, is it, doctor? I know nurses smooth pillows.
+I can do that.  Is there anything else?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Their
+principal duty is to sit here and prevent the excellent and garrulous
+lady who has just left us from getting in.  They must also be able to
+aim straight with a book or an old shoe, if that small woolly dog I
+met downstairs tries to force an entrance.  If you are equal to these
+tasks, I can leave the case in your hands with every confidence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+Sally, my dear,&#8221; said Mr. Faucitt, concerned, &#8220;you must
+not waste your time looking after me.  You have a thousand things to
+occupy you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There&#8217;s
+nothing I want to do more than help you to get better.  I&#8217;ll
+just go out and send a wire, and then I&#8217;ll be right back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Five
+minutes later, Sally was in a Western Union office, telegraphing to
+Gerald that she would be unable to reach Detroit in time for the
+opening.</p>
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">FIRST AID FOR FILLMORE</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was not till the following Friday that Sally was able to start for
+Detroit.  She arrived on the Saturday morning and drove to the Hotel
+Statler.  Having ascertained that Gerald was stopping in the hotel
+and having &#8216;phoned up to his room to tell him to join her, she
+went into the dining-room and ordered breakfast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+felt low-spirited as she waited for the food to arrive.  The nursing
+of Mr. Faucitt had left her tired, and she had not slept well on the
+train.  But the real cause of her depression was the fact that there
+had been a lack of enthusiasm in Gerald&#8217;s greeting over the
+telephone just now.  He had spoken listlessly, as though the fact of
+her returning after all these weeks was a matter of no account, and
+she felt hurt and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+cup of coffee had a stimulating effect.  Men, of course, were always
+like this in the early morning.  It would, no doubt, be a very
+different Gerald who would presently bound into the dining-room,
+quickened and restored by a cold shower-bath.  In the meantime, here
+was food, and she needed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+was pouring out her second cup of coffee when a stout young man, of
+whom she had caught a glimpse as he moved about that section of the
+hotel lobby which was visible through the open door of the
+dining-room, came in and stood peering about as though in search of
+someone.  The momentary sight she had had of this young man had
+interested Sally.  She had thought how extraordinarily like he was to
+her brother Fillmore.  Now she perceived that it was Fillmore
+himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was puzzled.  What could Fillmore be doing so far west? She had
+supposed him to be a permanent resident of New York.  But, of course,
+your man of affairs and vast interests flits about all over the
+place.  At any rate, here he was, and she called him.  And, after he
+had stood in the doorway looking in every direction except the right
+one for another minute, he saw her and came over to her table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+Sally?&#8221; His manner, she thought, was nervous&#8212;one might
+almost have said embarrassed.  She attributed this to a guilty
+conscience.  Presently he would have to break to her the news that he
+had become engaged to be married without her sisterly sanction, and
+no doubt he was wondering how to begin.  &#8220;What are you doing
+here? I thought you were in Europe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+got back a week ago, but I&#8217;ve been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt
+ever since then.  He&#8217;s been ill, poor old dear.  I&#8217;ve
+come here to see Mr. Foster&#8217;s play, &#8216;The Primrose Way,&#8217;
+you know.  Is it a success?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+hasn&#8217;t opened yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be silly, Fill.  Do pull yourself together.  It opened last Monday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+it didn&#8217;t.  Haven&#8217;t you heard? They&#8217;ve closed all
+the theatres because of this infernal Spanish influenza.  Nothing has
+been playing this week.  You must have seen it in the papers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+haven&#8217;t had time to read the papers.  Oh, Fill, what an awful
+shame!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+it&#8217;s pretty tough.  Makes the company all on edge.  I&#8217;ve
+had the darndest time, I can tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+what have you got to do with it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+coughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8212;er&#8212;oh,
+I didn&#8217;t tell you that.  I&#8217;m sort of&#8212;er&#8212;
+mixed up in the show.  Cracknell&#8212;you remember he was at college
+with me&#8212;suggested that I should come down and look at it.
+Shouldn&#8217;t wonder if he wants me to put money into it and so
+on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought he had all the money in the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
+thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+it a good thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+play&#8217;s fine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+what Mr. Faucitt said.  But Mabel Hobson...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+ample face registered emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She&#8217;s
+an awful woman, Sally! She can&#8217;t act, and she throws her weight
+about all the time.  The other day there was a fuss about a
+paper-knife...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+of the props, you know.  It got mislaid.  I&#8217;m certain it wasn&#8217;t
+my fault...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+could it have been your fault?&#8221; asked Sally wonderingly.  Love
+seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore&#8217;s mentality.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well&#8212;er&#8212;you
+know how it is.  Angry woman... blames the first person she sees...
+This paper-knife...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+voice trailed off into pained silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+she&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said Fillmore indifferently.  &#8220;But&#8212;&#8221;
+His face brightened and animation crept into his voice.  &#8220;But
+the girl you want to watch is Miss Winch.  Gladys Winch.  She plays
+the maid.  She&#8217;s only in the first act, and hasn&#8217;t much
+to say, except &#8216;Did you ring, madam?&#8217; and things like
+that.  But it&#8217;s the way she says &#8216;em! Sally, that girl&#8217;s
+a genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark
+my words, in a darned little while you&#8217;ll see her name up on
+Broadway in electric light.  Personality? Ask me! Charm? She wrote
+the words and music! Looks?...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+right! All right! I know all about it, Fill.  And will you kindly
+inform me how you dared to get engaged without consulting me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+blushed richly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+do you know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Mr. Faucitt told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I&#8217;m only human,&#8221; argued Fillmore.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+call that a very handsome admission.  You&#8217;ve got quite modest,
+Fill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+had certainly changed for the better since their last meeting.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was as if someone had punctured him and let out all the pomposity.
+If this was due, as Mr. Faucitt had suggested, to the influence of
+Miss Winch, Sally felt that she could not but approve of the romance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+introduce you sometime,&#8217; said Fillmore.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+want to meet her very much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have to be going now.  I&#8217;ve got to see Bunbury.  I thought he
+might be in here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who&#8217;s
+Bunbury?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+producer.  I suppose he is breakfasting in his room.  I&#8217;d
+better go up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+<i>are</i> busy, aren&#8217;t you.  Little marvel! It&#8217;s lucky
+they&#8217;ve got you to look after them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+retired and Sally settled down to wait for Gerald, no longer hurt by
+his manner over the telephone.  Poor Gerald! No wonder he had seemed
+upset.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+few minutes later he came in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Jerry darling,&#8221; said Sally, as he reached the table, &#8220;I&#8217;m
+so sorry.  I&#8217;ve just been hearing about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+sat down.  His appearance fulfilled the promise of his voice over the
+telephone.  A sort of nervous dullness wrapped him about like a
+garment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+just my luck,&#8221; he said gloomily.  &#8220;It&#8217;s the kind of
+thing that couldn&#8217;t happen to anyone but me.  Damned fools!
+Where&#8217;s the sense in shutting the theatres, even if there is
+influenza about? They let people jam against one another all day in
+the stores.  If that doesn&#8217;t hurt them why should it hurt them
+to go to theatres? Besides, it&#8217;s all infernal nonsense about
+this thing.  I don&#8217;t believe there is such a thing as Spanish
+influenza.  People get colds in their heads and think they&#8217;re
+dying.  It&#8217;s all a fake scare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t think it&#8217;s that,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;Poor
+Mr. Faucitt had it quite badly.  That&#8217;s why I couldn&#8217;t
+come earlier.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+did not seem interested either by the news of Mr. Faucitt&#8217;s
+illness or by the fact that Sally, after delay, had at last arrived.
+He dug a spoon sombrely into his grape-fruit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We&#8217;ve
+been hanging about here day after day, getting bored to death all the
+time... The company&#8217;s going all to pieces.  They&#8217;re sick
+of rehearsing and rehearsing when nobody knows if we&#8217;ll ever
+open.  They were all keyed up a week ago, and they&#8217;ve been
+sagging ever since.  It will ruin the play, of course.  My first
+chance! Just chucked away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was listening with a growing feeling of desolation.  She tried to be
+fair, to remember that he had had a terrible disappointment and was
+under a great strain.  And yet... it was unfortunate that self-pity
+was a thing she particularly disliked in a man.  Her vanity, too, was
+hurt.  It was obvious that her arrival, so far from acting as a magic
+restorative, had effected nothing.  She could not help remembering,
+though it made her feel disloyal, what Mr. Faucitt had said about
+Gerald.  She had never noticed before that he was remarkably
+self-centred, but he was thrusting the fact upon her attention now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+Hobson woman is beginning to make trouble,&#8221; went on Gerald,
+prodding in a despairing sort of way at scrambled eggs.  &#8220;She
+ought never to have had the part, never.  She can&#8217;t handle it.
+Elsa Doland could play it a thousand times better.  I wrote Elsa in a
+few lines the other day, and the Hobson woman went right up in the
+air.  You don&#8217;t know what a star is till you&#8217;ve seen one
+of these promoted clothes-props from the Follies trying to be one.
+It took me an hour to talk her round and keep her from throwing up
+her part.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+not let her throw up her part?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;For
+heaven&#8217;s sake talk sense,&#8221; said Gerald querulously.  &#8220;Do
+you suppose that man Cracknell would keep the play on if she wasn&#8217;t
+in it? He would close the show in a second, and where would I be
+then? You don&#8217;t seem to realize that this is a big chance for
+me.  I&#8217;d look a fool throwing it away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+see,&#8221; said Sally, shortly.  She had never felt so wretched in
+her life.  Foreign travel, she decided, was a mistake.  It might be
+pleasant and broadening to the mind, but it seemed to put you so out
+of touch with people when you got back.  She analysed her sensations,
+and arrived at the conclusion that what she was resenting was the
+fact that Gerald was trying to get the advantages of two attitudes
+simultaneously.  A man in trouble may either be the captain of his
+soul and superior to pity, or he may be a broken thing for a woman to
+pet and comfort.  Gerald, it seemed to her, was advertising himself
+as an object for her commiseration, and at the same time raising a
+barrier against it.  He appeared to demand her sympathy while holding
+himself aloof from it.  She had the uncomfortable sensation of
+feeling herself shut out and useless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;By
+the way,&#8221; said Gerald, &#8220;there&#8217;s one thing.  I have
+to keep her jollying along all the time, so for goodness&#8217; sake
+don&#8217;t go letting it out that we&#8217;re engaged.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+chin went up with a jerk.  This was too much.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you find it a handicap being engaged to me...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be silly.&#8221; Gerald took refuge in pathos.  &#8220;Good God! It&#8217;s
+tough! Here am I, worried to death, and you...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before
+he could finish the sentence, Sally&#8217;s mood had undergone one of
+those swift changes which sometimes made her feel that she must be
+lacking in character.  A simple, comforting thought had come to her,
+altering her entire outlook.  She had come off the train tired and
+gritty, and what seemed the general out-of-jointness of the world was
+entirely due, she decided, to the fact that she had not had a bath
+and that her hair was all anyhow.  She felt suddenly tranquil.  If it
+was merely her grubby and dishevelled condition that made Gerald seem
+to her so different, all was well.  She put her hand on his with a
+quick gesture of penitence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+so sorry,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve been a brute, but I do
+sympathize, really.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+had an awful time,&#8221; mumbled Gerald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know, I know.  But you never told me you were glad to see me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I&#8217;m glad to see you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+didn&#8217;t you say so, then, you poor fish? And why didn&#8217;t
+you ask me if I had enjoyed myself in Europe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+you enjoy yourself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+except that I missed you so much.  There! Now we can consider my
+lecture on foreign travel finished, and you can go on telling me your
+troubles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+accepted the invitation.  He spoke at considerable length, though
+with little variety.  It appeared definitely established in his mind
+that Providence had invented Spanish influenza purely with a view to
+wrecking his future.  But now he seemed less aloof, more open to
+sympathy.  The brief thunderstorm had cleared the air.  Sally lost
+that sense of detachment and exclusion which had weighed upon her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,&#8221;
+said Gerald, at length, looking at his watch, &#8220;I suppose I had
+better be off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Rehearsal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+confound it.  It&#8217;s the only way of getting through the day.
+Are you coming along?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+come directly I&#8217;ve unpacked and tidied myself up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;See
+you at the theatre, then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+went out and rang for the lift to take her up to her room.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+rehearsal had started when she reached the theatre.  As she entered
+the dark auditorium, voices came to her with that thin and reedy
+effect which is produced by people talking in an empty building.  She
+sat down at the back of the house, and, as her eyes grew accustomed
+to the gloom, was able to see Gerald sitting in the front row beside
+a man with a bald head fringed with orange hair whom she took
+correctly to be Mr. Bunbury, the producer.  Dotted about the house in
+ones and twos were members of the company whose presence was not
+required in the first act.  On the stage, Elsa Doland, looking very
+attractive, was playing a scene with a man in a bowler hat.  She was
+speaking a line, as Sally came in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+what do you mean, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Tiddly-omty-om,&#8221;
+was the bowler-hatted one&#8217;s surprising reply.
+&#8220;Tiddly-omty-om... long speech ending in &#8216;find me in the
+library.&#8217; <i>And exit,&#8221;</i> said the man in the bowler
+hat, starting to do so.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For
+the first time Sally became aware of the atmosphere of nerves.  Mr.
+Bunbury, who seemed to be a man of temperament, picked up his
+walking-stick, which was leaning against the next seat, and flung it
+with some violence across the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;For
+God&#8217;s sake!&#8221; said Mr. Bunbury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+what?&#8221; inquired the bowler hat, interested, pausing hallway
+across the stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+speak the lines, Teddy,&#8221; exclaimed Gerald.  &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+skip them in that sloppy fashion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t want me to go over the whole thing?&#8221; asked the
+bowler hat, amazed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Yes!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+the whole damn thing?&#8221; queried the bowler hat, fighting with
+incredulity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;This
+is a rehearsal,&#8221; snapped Mr. Bunbury.  &#8220;If we are not
+going to do it properly, what&#8217;s the use of doing it at all?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This
+seemed to strike the erring Teddy, if not as reasonable, at any rate
+as one way of looking at it.  He delivered the speech in an injured
+tone and shuffled off.  The atmosphere of tenseness was unmistakable
+now.  Sally could feel it.  The world of the theatre is simply a
+large nursery and its inhabitants children who readily become fretful
+if anything goes wrong.  The waiting and the uncertainty, the loafing
+about in strange hotels in a strange city, the dreary rehearsing of
+lines which had been polished to the last syllable more than a week
+ago&#8212;these things had sapped the nerve of the Primrose Way
+company and demoralization had set in.  It would require only a
+trifle to produce an explosion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa
+Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a magazine
+from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights.  A moment
+later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be greeted
+instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Miss
+Winch!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
+pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of
+genial indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse
+the children.  She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking
+girl with a serious face, the gravity of which was contradicted by
+the faint smile that seemed to lurk about the corner of her mouth.
+She was certainly not pretty, and Sally, watching her with keen
+interest, was surprised that Fillmore had had the sense to disregard
+surface homeliness and recognize her charm.  Deep down in Fillmore,
+Sally decided, there must lurk an unsuspected vein of intelligence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hello?&#8221;
+said Miss Winch, amiably.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum during
+rehearsal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+right, so you did,&#8221; admitted Miss Winch, chummily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Then
+why are you doing it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+fiancée revolved the critized refreshment about her tongue for
+a moment before replying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bit
+o&#8217; business,&#8221; she announced, at length.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do you mean, a bit of business?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Character
+stuff,&#8221; explained Miss Winch in her pleasant, drawling voice.
+&#8220;Thought it out myself.  Maids chew gum, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Bunbury ruffled his orange hair in an over-wrought manner with the
+palm of his right hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Have
+you ever seen a maid?&#8221; he asked, despairingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+<i>sir.  </i>And they chew gum.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean a parlour-maid in a smart house,&#8221; moaned Mr. Bunbury.  &#8220;Do
+you imagine for a moment that in a house such as this is supposed to
+be the parlour-maid would be allowed to come into the drawing-room
+champing that disgusting, beastly stuff?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Winch considered the point.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Maybe
+you&#8217;re right.&#8221; She brightened.  &#8220;Listen! Great
+idea! Mr. Foster can write in a line for Elsa, calling me down, and
+another giving me a good come-back, and then another for Elsa saying
+something else, and then something really funny for me, and so on.
+We can work it up into a big comic scene.  Five or six minutes, all
+laughs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This
+ingenious suggestion had the effect of depriving the producer
+momentarily of speech, and while he was struggling for utterance,
+there dashed out from the wings a gorgeous being in blue velvet and a
+hat of such unimpeachable smartness that Sally ached at the sight of
+it with a spasm of pure envy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Say!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which nature
+can bestow with the exception of a musical voice.  Her figure was
+perfect, her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but
+her voice in moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Say,
+listen to me for just one moment!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Bunbury recovered from his trance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Hobson! Please!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+that&#8217;s all very well...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+are interrupting the rehearsal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+bet your sorrowful existence I&#8217;m interrupting the rehearsal,&#8221;
+agreed Miss Hobson, with emphasis.  &#8220;And, if you want to make a
+little easy money, you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I&#8217;m
+going to interrupt it again every time there&#8217;s any talk of
+writing up any darned part in the show except mine.  Write up other
+people&#8217;s parts? Not while I have my strength!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings
+in close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now,
+sweetie!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+can it, Reggie!&#8221; said Miss Hobson, curtly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Cracknell obediently canned it.  He was not one of your brutal
+cave-men.  He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began
+to chew the knob of his stick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+the star,&#8221; resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, &#8220;and, if you
+think anybody else&#8217;s part&#8217;s going to be written up...
+well, pardon me while I choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable
+is written into anybody&#8217;s part, I walk straight out on my two
+feet.  You won&#8217;t see me go, I&#8217;ll be so quick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;For
+heaven&#8217;s sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating
+society? Miss Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody&#8217;s
+part.  Now are you satisfied?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+said...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+never mind,&#8221; observed Miss Winch, equably.  &#8220;It was only
+a random thought.  Working for the good of the show all the time.
+That&#8217;s me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now,
+sweetie!&#8221; pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like
+a tortoise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+well, that&#8217;s all right, then.  But don&#8217;t forget I know
+how to look after myself,&#8221; she said, stating a fact which was
+abundantly obvious to all who had had the privilege of listening to
+her.  &#8220;Any raw work, and out I walk so quick it&#8217;ll make
+you giddy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Shall
+I say my big speech now?&#8221; inquired Miss Winch, over the
+footlights.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+yes! Get on with the rehearsal.  We&#8217;ve wasted half the
+morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+you ring, madam?&#8221; said Miss Winch to Elsa, who had been reading
+her magazine placidly through the late scene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+rehearsal proceeded, and Sally watched it with a sinking heart.  It
+was all wrong.  Novice as she was in things theatrical, she could see
+that.  There was no doubt that Miss Hobson was superbly beautiful and
+would have shed lustre on any part which involved the minimum of
+words and the maximum of clothes: but in the pivotal role of a
+serious play, her very physical attributes only served to emphasize
+and point her hopeless incapacity.  Sally remembered Mr. Faucitt&#8217;s
+story of the lady who got the bird at Wigan.  She did not see how
+history could fail to repeat itself.  The theatrical public of
+America will endure much from youth and beauty, but there is a limit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+shrill, passionate cry from the front row, and Mr. Bunbury was on his
+feet again.  Sally could not help wondering whether things were going
+particularly wrong to-day, or whether this was one of Mr. Bunbury&#8217;s
+ordinary mornings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Hobson!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+action of the drama had just brought that emotional lady on left
+centre and had taken her across to the desk which stood on the other
+side of the stage.  The desk was an important feature of the play,
+for it symbolized the absorption in business which, exhibited by her
+husband, was rapidly breaking Miss Hobson&#8217;s heart.  He loved
+his desk better than his young wife, that was what it amounted to,
+and no wife can stand that sort of thing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+gee!&#8221; said Miss Hobson, ceasing to be the distressed wife and
+becoming the offended star.  &#8220;What&#8217;s it this time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+suggested at the last rehearsal and at the rehearsal before and the
+rehearsal before that, that, on that line, you, should pick up the
+paper-knife and toy negligently with it.  You did it yesterday, and
+to-day you&#8217;ve forgotten it again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+God!&#8221; cried Miss Hobson, wounded to the quick., &#8220;If this
+don&#8217;t beat everything! How the heck can I toy negligently with
+a paper-knife when there&#8217;s no paper-knife for me to toy
+negligently with?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+paper-knife is on the desk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+not on the desk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No
+paper-knife?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No
+paper-knife.  And it&#8217;s no good picking on me.  I&#8217;m the
+star, not the assistant stage manager.  If you&#8217;re going to pick
+on anybody, pick on him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+advice appeared to strike Mr. Bunbury as good.  He threw back his
+head and bayed like a bloodhound.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a momentary pause, and then from the wings on the prompt side
+there shambled out a stout and shrinking figure, in whose hand was a
+script of the play and on whose face, lit up by the footlights, there
+shone a look of apprehension.  It was Fillmore, the Man of Destiny.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas,
+poor Fillmore! He stood in the middle of the stage with the lightning
+of Mr. Bunbury&#8217;s wrath playing about his defenceless head, and
+Sally, recovering from her first astonishment, sent a wave of
+sisterly commiseration floating across the theatre to him.  She did
+not often pity Fillmore.  His was a nature which in the sunshine of
+prosperity had a tendency to grow a trifle lush; and such of the
+minor ills of life as had afflicted him during the past three years,
+had, she considered, been wholesome and educative and a matter not
+for concern but for congratulation.  Unmoved, she had watched him
+through that lean period lunching on coffee and buckwheat cakes, and
+curbing from motives of economy a somewhat florid taste in dress.
+But this was different.  This was tragedy.  Somehow or other,
+blasting disaster must have smitten the Fillmore bank-roll, and he
+was back where he had started.  His presence here this morning could
+mean nothing else.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+recalled his words at the breakfast-table about financing the play.
+How like Fillmore to try to save his face for the moment with an
+outrageous bluff, though well aware that he would have to reveal the
+truth sooner or later.  She realized how he must have felt when he
+had seen her at the hotel.  Yes, she was sorry for Fillmore.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And,
+as she listened to the fervent eloquence of Mr. Bunbury, she
+perceived that she had every reason to be.  Fillmore was having a bad
+time.  One of the chief articles of faith in the creed of all
+theatrical producers is that if anything goes wrong it must be the
+fault of the assistant stage manager and Mr. Bunbury was evidently
+orthodox in his views.  He was showing oratorical gifts of no mean
+order.  The paper-knife seemed to inspire him.  Gradually, Sally
+began to get the feeling that this harmless, necessary stage-property
+was the source from which sprang most, if not all, of the trouble in
+the world.  It had disappeared before.  Now it had disappeared again.
+ Could Mr. Bunbury go on struggling in a universe where this sort of
+thing happened? He seemed to doubt it.  Being a red-blooded,
+one-hundred-per-cent American man, he would try hard, but it was a
+hundred to one shot that he would get through.  He had asked for a
+paper-knife.  There was no paper-knife.  Why was there no
+paper-knife? Where <i>was</i> the paper-knife anyway?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+assure you, Mr. Bunbury,&#8221; bleated the unhappy Fillmore,
+obsequiously.  &#8220;I placed it with the rest of the properties
+after the last rehearsal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+couldn&#8217;t have done.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+assure you I did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+it walked away, I suppose,&#8221; said Miss Hobson with cold scorn,
+pausing in the operation of brightening up her lower lip with a
+lip-stick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+calm, clear voice spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+was taken away,&#8221; said the calm, clear voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Winch had added herself to the symposium.  She stood beside Fillmore,
+chewing placidly.  It took more than raised voices and gesticulating
+hands to disturb Miss Winch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Hobson took it,&#8221; she went on in her cosy, drawling voice.  &#8220;I
+saw her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sensation
+in court.  The prisoner, who seemed to feel his position deeply, cast
+a pop-eyed glance full of gratitude at his advocate.  Mr. Bunbury, in
+his capacity of prosecuting attorney, ran his fingers through his
+hair in some embarrassment, for he was regretting now that he had
+made such a fuss.  Miss Hobson thus assailed by an underling, spun
+round and dropped the lip-stick, which was neatly retrieved by the
+assiduous Mr. Cracknell.  Mr. Cracknell had his limitations, but he
+was rather good at picking up lip-sticks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+that? <i>I </i>took it? I never did anything of the sort.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Hobson took it after the rehearsal yesterday,&#8221; drawled Gladys
+Winch, addressing the world in general, &#8220;and threw it
+negligently at the theatre cat.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson seemed taken aback.  Her composure was not restored by Mr.
+Bunbury&#8217;s next remark.  The producer, like his company, had
+been feeling the strain of the past few days, and, though as a rule
+he avoided anything in the nature of a clash with the temperamental
+star, this matter of the missing paper-knife had bitten so deeply
+into his soul that he felt compelled to speak his mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;In
+future, Miss Hobson, I should be glad if, when you wish to throw
+anything at the cat, you would not select a missile from the property
+box.  Good heavens!&#8221; he cried, stung by the way fate was
+maltreating him, &#8220;I have never experienced anything like this
+before.  I have been producing plays all my life, and this is the
+first time this has happened.  I have produced Nazimova.  Nazimova
+never threw paper-knives at cats.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I hate cats,&#8221; said Miss Hobson, as though that settled it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I,&#8221;
+murmured Miss Winch, &#8220;love little pussy, her fur is so warm,
+and if I don&#8217;t hurt her she&#8217;ll do me no...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my heavens!&#8221; shouted Gerald Foster, bounding from his seat and
+for the first time taking a share in the debate.  &#8220;Are we going
+to spend the whole day arguing about cats and paper-knives? For
+goodness&#8217; sake, clear the stage and stop wasting time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson chose to regard this intervention as an affront.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+shout at me, Mr. Foster!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wasn&#8217;t shouting at you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you have anything to say to me, lower your voice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+can&#8217;t,&#8221; observed Miss Winch.  &#8220;He&#8217;s a tenor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nazimova
+never...&#8221; began Mr. Bunbury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson was not to be diverted from her theme by reminiscences of
+Nazimova.  She had not finished dealing with Gerald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;In
+the shows I&#8217;ve been in,&#8221; she said, mordantly, &#8220;the
+author wasn&#8217;t allowed to go about the place getting fresh with
+the leading lady.  In the shows I&#8217;ve been in the author sat at
+the back and spoke when he was spoken to.  In the shows I&#8217;ve
+been in&#8230;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was tingling all over.  This reminded her of the dog-fight on the
+Roville sands.  She wanted to be in it, and only the recognition that
+it was a private fight and that she would be intruding kept her
+silent.  The lure of the fray, however, was too strong for her wholly
+to resist it.  Almost unconsciously, she had risen from her place and
+drifted down the aisle so as to be nearer the white-hot centre of
+things.  She was now standing in the lighted space by the
+orchestra-pit, and her presence attracted the roving attention of
+Miss Hobson, who, having concluded her remarks on authors and their
+legitimate sphere of activity, was looking about for some other
+object of attack.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+the devil,&#8221; inquired Miss Hobson, &#8220;is <i>that?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+found herself an object of universal scrutiny and wished that she had
+remained in the obscurity of the back rows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+am Mr. Nicholas&#8217; sister,&#8221; was the best method of
+identification that she could find.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who&#8217;s
+Mr. Nicholas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+timidly admitted that he was Mr. Nicholas.  He did it in the manner
+of one in the dock pleading guilty to a major charge, and at least
+half of those present seemed surprised.  To them, till now, Fillmore
+had been a nameless thing, answering to the shout of &#8220;Hi!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson received the information with a laugh of such exceeding
+bitterness that strong men blanched and Mr. Cracknell started so
+convulsively that he nearly jerked his collar off its stud.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now,
+sweetie!&#8221; urged Mr. Cracknell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Hobson said that Mr. Cracknell gave her a pain in the gizzard.  She
+recommended his fading away, and he did so&#8212;into his collar.  He
+seemed to feel that once well inside his collar he was &#8220;home&#8221;
+and safe from attack.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+through!&#8221; announced Miss Hobson.  It appeared that Sally&#8217;s
+presence had in some mysterious fashion fulfilled the function of the
+last straw.  &#8220;This is the by-Goddest show I was ever in! I can
+stand for a whole lot, but when it comes to the assistant stage
+manager being allowed to fill the theatre with his sisters and his
+cousins and his aunts it&#8217;s time to quit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+sweetie!&#8221; pleaded Mr. Cracknell, coming to the surface.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+go and choke yourself!&#8221; said Miss Hobson, crisply.  And,
+swinging round like a blue panther, she strode off.  A door banged,
+and the sound of it seemed to restore Mr. Cracknell&#8217;s power of
+movement.  He, too, shot up stage and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hello,
+Sally,&#8221; said Elsa Doland, looking up from her magazine.  The
+battle, raging all round her, had failed to disturb her detachment.
+&#8220;When did you get back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+trotted up the steps which had been propped against the stage to form
+a bridge over the orchestra pit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hello,
+Elsa.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+late debaters had split into groups.  Mr. Bunbury and Gerald were
+pacing up and down the central aisle, talking earnestly.  Fillmore
+had subsided into a chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you know Gladys Winch?&#8221; asked Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+shook hands with the placid lodestar of her brother&#8217;s
+affections.  Miss Winch, on closer inspection, proved to have deep
+grey eyes and freckles.  Sally&#8217;s liking for her increased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thank
+you for saving Fillmore from the wolves,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;They
+would have torn him in pieces but for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Miss Winch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+was noble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;I&#8217;ll go and have a talk with
+Fillmore.  He looks as though he wanted consoling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+made her way to that picturesque ruin.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">4</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+had the air of a man who thought it wasn&#8217;t loaded.  A wild,
+startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he was
+breathing heavily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Cheer
+up!&#8221; said Sally.  Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly.  &#8220;Tell
+me all,&#8221; said Sally, sitting down beside him.  &#8220;I leave
+you a gentleman of large and independent means, and I come back and
+find you one of the wage-slaves again.  How did it all happen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally,&#8221;
+said Fillmore, &#8220;I will be frank with you.  Can you lend me ten
+dollars?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t see how you make that out an answer to my question, but
+here you are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks.&#8221;
+Fillmore pocketed the bill.  &#8220;I&#8217;ll let you have it back
+next week.  I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+that&#8217;s what you want it for, don&#8217;t look on it as a loan,
+take it as a gift with my blessing thrown in.&#8221; She looked over
+her shoulder at Miss Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being
+temporarily suspended, was practising golf-shots with an umbrella at
+the other side of the stage.  &#8220;However did you have the sense
+to fall in love with her, Fill?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you like her?&#8221; asked Fillmore, brightening.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+love her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+knew you would.  She&#8217;s just the right girl for me, isn&#8217;t
+she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+certainly is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So
+sympathetic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+And she&#8217;s got brains enough for two, which is the exact
+quantity the girl who marries you will need.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting in a low
+chair can achieve.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Some
+day I will make you believe in me, Sally.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Less
+of the Merchant Prince, my lad,&#8221; said Sally, firmly.  &#8220;You
+just confine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of
+taking up my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the
+future.  You&#8217;ve lost all your money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have suffered certain reverses,&#8221; said Fillmore, with dignity,
+&#8220;which have left me temporarily... Yes, every bean,&#8221; he
+concluded simply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;
+Fillmore hesitated.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve had bad luck, you know.  First
+I bought Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell.  So that
+went wrong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose.  So that
+went wrong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+gracious! Why, I&#8217;ve heard all this before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+told you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+I remember now.  It&#8217;s just that you remind me of a man I met at
+Roville.  He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had
+made a hash of everything.  Well, that took all you had, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+quite.  I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal that really
+did look cast-iron.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+that went wrong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+wasn&#8217;t my fault,&#8221; said Fillmore querulously.  &#8220;It
+was just my poisonous luck.  A man I knew got me to join a syndicate
+which had bought up a lot of whisky.  The idea was to ship it into
+Chicago in herring-barrels.  We should have cleaned up big, only a
+mutt of a detective took it into his darned head to go fooling about
+with a crowbar.  Officious ass! It wasn&#8217;t as if the barrels
+weren&#8217;t labelled &#8216;Herrings&#8217; as plainly as they
+could be,&#8221; said Fillmore with honest indignation.  He
+shuddered.  &#8220;I nearly got arrested.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+that went wrong? Well, that&#8217;s something to be thankful for.
+Stripes wouldn&#8217;t suit your figure.&#8221; Sally gave his arm a
+squeeze.  She was very fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his
+soul she generally concealed her affection beneath a manner which he
+had once compared, not without some reason, to that of a governess
+who had afflicted their mutual childhood.  &#8220;Never mind, you
+poor ill-used martyr.  Things are sure to come right.  We shall see
+you a millionaire some day.  And, oh heavens, brother Fillmore, what
+a bore you&#8217;ll be when you are! I can just see you being
+interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good.  &#8216;Mr.
+Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work.  He can lay his
+hand on his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged
+in those rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise
+and watch things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and
+watch &#8216;em rise.&#8217; Fill... I&#8217;ll tell you what I&#8217;ll
+do.  They all say it&#8217;s the first bit of money that counts in
+building a vast fortune.  I&#8217;ll lend you some of mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+will? Sally, I always said you were an ace.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+never heard you.  You oughtn&#8217;t to mumble so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Will
+you lend me twenty thousand dollars?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+patted his hand soothingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Come
+slowly down to earth,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Two hundred was the
+sum I had in mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+want twenty thousand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;d
+better rob a bank.  Any policeman will direct you to a good bank.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+tell you <i>why</i> I want twenty thousand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+might just mention it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I had twenty thousand, I&#8217;d buy this production from Cracknell.
+He&#8217;ll be back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman
+has quit: and, if she really has, you take it from me that he will
+close the show.  And, even if he manages to jolly her along this time
+and she comes back, it&#8217;s going to happen sooner or later.  It&#8217;s
+a shame to let a show like this close.  I believe in it, Sally.  It&#8217;s
+a darn good play.  With Elsa Doland in the big part, it couldn&#8217;t
+fail.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+started.  Her money was too recent for her to have grown fully
+accustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a
+position to wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale.  The
+financing of a theatrical production had always been to her something
+mysterious and out of the reach of ordinary persons like herself.
+Fillmore, that spacious thinker, had brought it into the sphere of
+the possible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;d
+sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit in hand.
+ You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York.
+I&#8217;d give you ten per cent on your money, Sally.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+found herself wavering.  The prudent side of her nature, which
+hitherto had steered her safely through most of life&#8217;s rapids,
+seemed oddly dormant.  Sub-consciously she was aware that on past
+performances Fillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control
+of anybody&#8217;s little fortune, but somehow the thought did not
+seem to grip her.  He had touched her imagination.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+a gold-mine!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+prudent side stirred in its sleep.  Fillmore had chosen an
+unfortunate expression.  To the novice in finance the word gold-mine
+had repellent associations.  If there was one thing in which Sally
+had proposed not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she
+had had in view, as a matter of fact, had been one of those little
+fancy shops which are called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or
+something like that, where you sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy
+at extortionate prices.  She knew two girls who were doing splendidly
+in that line.  As Fillmore spoke those words, Ye Corner Shoppe
+suddenly looked very good to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+this moment, however, two things happened.  Gerald and Mr. Bunbury,
+in the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of the
+footlights, and she was able to see Gerald&#8217;s face: and at the
+same time Mr. Reginald Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole
+demeanour that of the bearer of evil tidings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+sight of Gerald&#8217;s face annihilated Sally&#8217;s prudence at a
+single stroke.  Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been
+shining brightly before her mental eye, flickered and melted out.
+The whole issue became clear and simple.  Gerald was miserable and
+she had it in her power to make him happy.  He was sullenly awaiting
+disaster and she with a word could avert it.  She wondered that she
+had ever hesitated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+right,&#8221; she said simply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+quivered from head to foot.  A powerful electric shock could not have
+produced a stronger convulsion.  He knew Sally of old as cautious and
+clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother&#8217;s
+eloquence; and he had never looked on this thing as anything better
+than a hundred to one shot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ll
+do it?&#8221; he whispered, and held his breath.  After all he might
+not have heard correctly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Yes.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">All
+the complex emotion in Fillmore&#8217;s soul found expression in one
+vast whoop.  It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump,
+beating against the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very
+gallery.  Mr. Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr.
+Cracknell across the footlights, shied like a startled mule.  There
+was reproach and menace in the look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute
+earlier it would have reduced that financial magnate to apologetic
+pulp.  But Fillmore was not to be intimidated now by a look.  He
+strode down to the group at the footlights,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Cracknell,&#8221;
+he said importantly, &#8220;one moment, I should like a word with
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If
+actors and actresses are like children in that they are readily
+depressed by disaster, they have the child&#8217;s compensating gift
+of being easily uplifted by good fortune.  It amazed Sally that any
+one mortal should have been able to spread such universal happiness
+as she had done by the simple act of lending her brother Fillmore
+twenty thousand dollars.  If the Millennium had arrived, the members
+of the Primrose Way Company could not have been on better terms with
+themselves.  The lethargy and dispiritedness, caused by their week of
+inaction, fell from them like a cloak.  The sudden elevation of that
+creature of the abyss, the assistant stage manager, to the dizzy
+height of proprietor of the show appealed to their sense of drama.
+Most of them had played in pieces where much the same thing had
+happened to the persecuted heroine round about eleven o&#8217;clock,
+and the situation struck them as theatrically sound.  Also, now that
+she had gone, the extent to which Miss Hobson had acted as a blight
+was universally recognized.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+spirit of optimism reigned, and cheerful rumours became current.  The
+bowler-hatted Teddy had it straight from the lift-boy at his hotel
+that the ban on the theatres was to be lifted on Tuesday at the
+latest; while no less an authority than the cigar-stand girl at the
+Pontchatrain had informed the man who played the butler that Toledo
+and Cleveland were opening to-morrow.  It was generally felt that the
+sun was bursting through the clouds and that Fate would soon despair
+of the hopeless task of trying to keep good men down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+was himself again.  We all have our particular mode of
+self-expression in moments of elation.  Fillmore&#8217;s took the
+shape of buying a new waistcoat and a hundred half-dollar cigars and
+being very fussy about what he had for lunch.  It may have been an
+optical illusion, but he appeared to Sally to put on at least six
+pounds in weight on the first day of the new regime.  As a serf
+looking after paper-knives and other properties, he had been&#8212;for
+him&#8212;almost slim.  As a manager he blossomed out into soft
+billowy curves, and when he stood on the sidewalk in front of the
+theatre, gloating over the new posters which bore the legend,</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><br></p>
+
+<p class="center">FILLMORE NICHOLAS</p>
+
+<p class="center">PRESENTS</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="left">the
+populace had to make a detour to get round him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In
+this era of bubbling joy, it was hard that Sally, the fairy godmother
+responsible for it all, should not have been completely happy too;
+and it puzzled her why she was not.  But whatever it was that cast
+the faint shadow refused obstinately to come out from the back of her
+mind and show itself and be challenged.  It was not till she was out
+driving in a hired car with Gerald one afternoon on Belle Isle that
+enlightenment came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald,
+since the departure of Miss Hobson, had been at his best.  Like
+Fillmore, he was a man who responded to the sunshine of prosperity.
+His moodiness had vanished, and all his old charm had returned.  And
+yet... it seemed to Sally, as the car slid smoothly through the
+pleasant woods and fields by the river, that there was something that
+jarred.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+was cheerful and talkative.  He, at any rate, found nothing wrong
+with life.  He held forth spaciously on the big things he intended to
+do.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+this play get over&#8212;and it&#8217;s going to&#8212;I&#8217;ll
+show &#8216;em!&#8221; His jaw was squared, and his eyes glowed as
+they stared into the inviting future.  &#8220;One success&#8212;that&#8217;s
+all I need&#8212;then watch me! I haven&#8217;t had a chance yet,
+but...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+voice rolled on, but Sally had ceased to listen.  It was the time of
+year when the chill of evening follows swiftly on the mellow warmth
+of afternoon.  The sun had gone behind the trees, and a cold wind was
+blowing up from the river.  And quite suddenly, as though it was the
+wind that had cleared her mind, she understood what it was that had
+been lurking at the back of her thoughts.  For an instant it stood
+out nakedly without concealment, and the world became a forlorn
+place.  She had realized the fundamental difference between man&#8217;s
+outlook on life and woman&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Success!
+How men worshipped it, and how little of themselves they had to spare
+for anything else.  Ironically, it was the theme of this very play of
+Gerald&#8217;s which she had saved from destruction.  Of all the men
+she knew, how many had any view of life except as a race which they
+must strain every nerve to win, regardless of what they missed by the
+wayside in their haste? Fillmore&#8212;Gerald&#8212;all of them.
+There might be a woman in each of their lives, but she came second
+&#8212;an afterthought&#8212;a thing for their spare time.  Gerald
+was everything to her.  His success would never be more than a
+side-issue as far as she was concerned.  He himself, without any of
+the trappings of success, was enough for her.  But she was not enough
+for him.  A spasm of futile jealousy shook her.  She shivered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Cold?&#8221;
+said Gerald.  &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell the man to drive back... I don&#8217;t
+see any reason why this play shouldn&#8217;t run a year in New York.
+Everybody says it&#8217;s good... if it does get over, they&#8217;ll
+all be after me.  I...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stared out into a bleak world.  The sky was a leaden grey, and the
+wind from the river blew with a dismal chill.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">REAPPEARANCE OF MR. CARMYLE&#8212;AND GINGER</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">When
+Sally left Detroit on the following Saturday, accompanied by
+Fillmore, who was returning to the metropolis for a few days in order
+to secure offices and generally make his presence felt along
+Broadway, her spirits had completely recovered.  She felt guiltily
+that she had been fanciful, even morbid.  Naturally men wanted to get
+on in the world.  It was their job.  She told herself that she was
+bound up with Gerald&#8217;s success, and that the last thing of
+which she ought to complain was the energy he put into efforts of
+which she as well as he would reap the reward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To
+this happier frame of mind the excitement of the last few days had
+contributed.  Detroit, that city of amiable audiences, had liked &#8220;The
+Primrose Way.&#8221; The theatre, in fulfilment of Teddy&#8217;s
+prophecy, had been allowed to open on the Tuesday, and a full house,
+hungry for entertainment after its enforced abstinence, had welcomed
+the play wholeheartedly.  The papers, not always in agreement with
+the applause of a first-night audience, had on this occasion endorsed
+the verdict, with agreeable unanimity hailing Gerald as the coming
+author and Elsa Doland as the coming star.  There had even been a
+brief mention of Fillmore as the coming manager.  But there is always
+some trifle that jars in our greatest moments, and Fillmore&#8217;s
+triumph had been almost spoilt by the fact that the only notice taken
+of Gladys Winch was by the critic who printed her name&#8212;spelt
+Wunch&#8212;in the list of those whom the cast &#8220;also included.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;One
+of the greatest character actresses on the stage,&#8221; said
+Fillmore bitterly, talking over this outrage with Sally on the
+morning after the production.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From
+this blow, however, his buoyant nature had soon enabled him to rally.
+ Life contained so much that was bright that it would have been
+churlish to concentrate the attention on the one dark spot.  Business
+had been excellent all through the week.  Elsa Doland had got better
+at every performance.  The receipt of a long and agitated telegram
+from Mr. Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the
+passage of time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a
+pleasant incident.  And, best of all, the great Ike Schumann, who
+owned half the theatres in New York and had been in Detroit
+superintending one of his musical productions, had looked in one
+evening and stamped &#8220;The Primrose Way&#8221; with the seal of
+his approval.  As Fillmore sat opposite Sally on the train, he
+radiated contentment and importance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+do,&#8221; said Sally, breaking a long silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+awoke from happy dreams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+said &#8216;Yes, do.&#8217; I think you owe it to your position.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Buy
+a fur coat.  Wasn&#8217;t that what you were meditating about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be a chump,&#8221; said Fillmore, blushing nevertheless.  It was true
+that once or twice during the past week he had toyed negligently, as
+Mr. Bunbury would have said, with the notion, and why not? A fellow
+must keep warm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;With
+an astrakhan collar,&#8221; insisted Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;As
+a matter of fact,&#8221; said Fillmore loftily, his great soul
+ill-attuned to this badinage, &#8220;what I was really thinking about
+at the moment was something Ike said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ike?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ike
+Schumann.  He&#8217;s on the train.  I met him just now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We
+call him Ike!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I call him Ike,&#8221; said Fillmore heatedly.  &#8220;Everyone
+calls him Ike.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>He</i>
+wears a fur coat,&#8221; Sally murmured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+registered annoyance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wish you wouldn&#8217;t keep on harping on that damned coat.  And,
+anyway, why shouldn&#8217;t I have a fur coat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fill...
+! How can you be so brutal as to suggest that I ever said you
+shouldn&#8217;t? Why, I&#8217;m one of the strongest supporters of
+the fur coat.  With big cuffs.  And you must roll up Fifth Avenue in
+your car, and I&#8217;ll point and say &#8216;That&#8217;s my
+brother!&#8217; &#8216;Your brother? No!&#8217; &#8216;He is,
+really.&#8217; &#8216;You&#8217;re joking.  Why, that&#8217;s the
+great Fillmore Nicholas.&#8217; &#8216;I know.  But he really is my
+brother.  And I was with him when he bought that coat.&#8217; &#8220;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+leave off about the coat!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;&#8216;And
+it isn&#8217;t only the coat,&#8217; I shall say.  &#8216;It&#8217;s
+what&#8217;s underneath.  Tucked away inside that mass of fur,
+dodging about behind that dollar cigar, is one to whom we point with
+pride... &#8216; &#8220;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+looked coldly at his watch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+got to go and see Ike Schumann.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We
+are in hourly consultation with Ike.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+wants to see me about the show.  He suggests putting it into Chicago
+before opening in New York.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh
+no,&#8221; cried Sally, dismayed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+recovered herself.  Identifying Gerald so closely with his play, she
+had supposed for a moment that if the piece opened in Chicago it
+would mean a further prolonged separation from him.  But of course
+there would be no need, she realized, for him to stay with the
+company after the first day or two.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+thinking that we ought to have a New York reputation before tackling
+Chicago.  There&#8217;s a lot to be said for that.  Still, it works
+both ways.  A Chicago run would help us in New York.  Well, I&#8217;ll
+have to think it over,&#8221; said Fillmore, importantly, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have to think it over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+mused with drawn brows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+wrong,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+a bit like it.  The lips should be compressed and the forefinger of
+the right hand laid in a careworn way against the right temple.
+You&#8217;ve a lot to learn.  Fill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+stop it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore
+Nicholas,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;if you knew what pain it gives me
+to josh my only brother, you&#8217;d be sorry for me.  But you know
+it&#8217;s for your good.  Now run along and put Ike out of his
+misery.  I know he&#8217;s waiting for you with his watch out.  &#8216;You
+<i>do</i> think he&#8217;ll come, Miss Nicholas?&#8217; were his last
+words to me as he stepped on the train, and oh, Fill, the yearning in
+his voice.  &#8216;Why, of <i>course</i> he will, Mr. Schumann,&#8217;
+I said.  &#8216;For all his exalted position, my brother is
+kindliness itself.  Of course he&#8217;ll come.&#8217; &#8216;If I
+could only think so!&#8217; he said with a gulp.  &#8216;If I could
+only think so.  But you know what these managers are.  A thousand
+calls on their time.  They get brooding on their fur coats and forget
+everything else.&#8217; &#8216;Have no fear, Mr. Schumann,&#8217; I
+said.  &#8216;Fillmore Nicholas is a man of his word.&#8217; &#8220;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+would have been willing, for she was a girl who never believed in
+sparing herself where it was a question of entertaining her nearest
+and dearest, to continue the dialogue, but Fillmore was already
+moving down the car, his rigid back a silent protest against sisterly
+levity.  Sally watched him disappear, then picked up a magazine and
+began to read.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had just finished tracking a story of gripping interest through a
+jungle of advertisements, only to find that it was in two parts, of
+which the one she was reading was the first, when a voice spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+do you do, Miss Nicholas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Into
+the seat before her, recently released from the weight of the coming
+manager, Bruce Carmyle of all people in the world insinuated himself
+with that well-bred air of deferential restraint which never left
+him.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was considerably startled.  Everybody travels nowadays, of course,
+and there is nothing really remarkable in finding a man in America
+whom you had supposed to be in Europe: but nevertheless she was
+conscious of a dream-like sensation, as though the clock had been
+turned back and a chapter of her life reopened which she had thought
+closed for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Carmyle!&#8221; she cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If
+Sally had been constantly in Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s thoughts since
+they had parted on the Paris express, Mr. Carmyle had been very
+little in Sally&#8217;s&#8212;so little, indeed, that she had had to
+search her memory for a moment before she identified him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We&#8217;re
+always meeting on trains, aren&#8217;t we?&#8221; she went on, her
+composure returning.  &#8220;I never expected to see you in America.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+came over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was tempted to reply that she gathered that, but a sudden
+embarrassment curbed her tongue.  She had just remembered that at
+their last meeting she had been abominably rude to this man.  She was
+never rude to anyone, without subsequent remorse.  She contented
+herself with a tame &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Mr. Carmyle, &#8220;it is a good many years since I have taken a
+real holiday.  My doctor seemed to think I was a trifle run down.  It
+seemed a good opportunity to visit America.  Everybody,&#8221; said
+Mr. Carmyle oracularly, endeavouring, as he had often done since his
+ship had left England, to persuade himself that his object in making
+the trip had not been merely to renew his acquaintance with Sally,
+&#8220;everybody ought to visit America at least once.  It is part of
+one&#8217;s education.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+what are your impressions of our glorious country?&#8221; said Sally
+rallying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle seemed glad of the opportunity of lecturing on an impersonal
+subject.  He, too, though his face had shown no trace of it, had been
+embarrassed in the opening stages of the conversation.  The sound of
+his voice restored him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have been visiting Chicago,&#8221; he said after a brief travelogue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+wonderful city.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+never seen it.  I&#8217;ve come from Detroit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+I heard you were in Detroit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+eyes opened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+heard I was in Detroit? Good gracious! How?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8212;ah&#8212;called
+at your New York address and made inquiries,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle
+a little awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+how did you know where I lived?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+cousin&#8212;er&#8212;Lancelot told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was silent for a moment.  She had much the same feeling that comes to
+the man in the detective story who realizes that he is being
+shadowed.  Even if this almost complete stranger had not actually
+come to America in direct pursuit of her, there was no disguising the
+fact that he evidently found her an object of considerable interest.
+It was a compliment, but Sally was not at all sure that she liked it.
+ Bruce Carmyle meant nothing to her, and it was rather disturbing to
+find that she was apparently of great importance to him.  She seized
+on the mention of Ginger as a lever for diverting the conversation
+from its present too intimate course.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+is Mr. Kemp?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle&#8217;s dark face seemed to become a trifle darker.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We
+have had no news of him,&#8221; he said shortly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No
+news? How do you mean? You speak as though he had disappeared.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+has disappeared!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+heavens! When?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Shortly
+after I saw you last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Disappeared!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle frowned.  Sally, watching him, found her antipathy stirring
+again.  There was something about this man which she had disliked
+instinctively from the first, a sort of hardness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+where has he gone to?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know.&#8221; Mr. Carmyle frowned again.  The subject of
+Ginger was plainly a sore one.  &#8220;And I don&#8217;t want to
+know,&#8221; he went on heatedly, a dull flush rising in the cheeks
+which Sally was sure he had to shave twice a day.  &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+care to know.  The Family have washed their hands of him.  For the
+future he may look after himself as best he can.  I believe he is off
+his head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+rebellious temper was well ablaze now, but she fought it down.  She
+would dearly have loved to give battle to Mr. Carmyle&#8212;it was
+odd, she felt, how she seemed to have constituted herself Ginger&#8217;s
+champion and protector&#8212;but she perceived that, if she wished,
+as she did, to hear more of her red-headed friend, he must be
+humoured and conciliated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+what happened? What was all the trouble about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle&#8217;s eyebrows met.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8212;insulted
+his uncle.  His uncle Donald.  He insulted him&#8212;grossly.  The
+one man in the world he should have made a point of&#8212;er&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Keeping
+in with?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ His future depended upon him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+what did he do?&#8221; cried Sally, trying hard to keep a thoroughly
+reprehensible joy out of her voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have heard no details.  My uncle is reticent as to what actually took
+place.  He invited Lancelot to dinner to discuss his plans, and it
+appears that Lancelot&#8212;defied him.  Defied him! He was rude and
+insulting.  My uncle refuses to have anything more to do with him.
+Apparently the young fool managed to win some money at the tables at
+Roville, and this seems to have turned his head completely.  My uncle
+insists that he is mad.  I agree with him.  Since the night of that
+dinner nothing has been heard of Lancelot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle broke off to brood once more, and before Sally could speak
+the impressive bulk of Fillmore loomed up in the aisle beside them.
+Explanations seemed to Fillmore to be in order.  He cast a
+questioning glance at the mysterious stranger, who, in addition to
+being in conversation with his sister, had collared his seat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+hullo, Fill,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;Fillmore, this is Mr.
+Carmyle.  We met abroad.  My brother Fillmore, Mr. Carmyle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Proper
+introduction having been thus effected, Fillmore approved of Mr.
+Carmyle.  His air of being someone in particular appealed to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Strange
+you meeting again like this,&#8221; he said affably.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+porter, who had been making up berths along the car, was now hovering
+expectantly in the offing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+two had better go into the smoking room,&#8221; suggested Sally.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m going to bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+wanted to be alone, to think.  Mr. Carmyle&#8217;s tale of a roused
+and revolting Ginger had stirred her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+two men went off to the smoking-room, and Sally found an empty seat
+and sat down to wait for her berth to be made up.  She was aglow with
+a curious exhilaration.  So Ginger had taken her advice! Excellent
+Ginger! She felt proud of him.  She also had that feeling of
+complacency, amounting almost to sinful pride, which comes to those
+who give advice and find it acted upon.  She had the emotions of a
+creator.  After all, had she not created this new Ginger? It was she
+who had stirred him up.  It was she who had unleashed him.  She had
+changed him from a meek dependent of the Family to a ravening
+creature, who went about the place insulting uncles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was a feat, there was no denying it.  It was something attempted,
+something done: and by all the rules laid down by the poet it should,
+therefore, have earned a night&#8217;s repose.  Yet, Sally, jolted by
+the train, which towards the small hours seemed to be trying out some
+new buck-and-wing steps of its own invention, slept ill, and
+presently, as she lay awake, there came to her bedside the Spectre of
+Doubt, gaunt and questioning.  Had she, after all, wrought so well?
+Had she been wise in tampering with this young man&#8217;s life?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+about it?&#8221; said the Spectre of Doubt.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Daylight
+brought no comforting answer to the question.  Breakfast failed to
+manufacture an easy mind.  Sally got off the train, at the Grand
+Central station in a state of remorseful concern.  She declined the
+offer of Mr. Carmyle to drive her to the boarding-house, and started
+to walk there, hoping that the crisp morning air would effect a cure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+wondered now how she could ever have looked with approval on her rash
+act.  She wondered what demon of interference and meddling had
+possessed her, to make her blunder into people&#8217;s lives,
+upsetting them.  She wondered that she was allowed to go around
+loose.  She was nothing more nor less than a menace to society.  Here
+was an estimable young man, obviously the sort of young man who would
+always have to be assisted through life by his relatives, and she had
+deliberately egged him on to wreck his prospects.  She blushed hotly
+as she remembered that mad wireless she had sent him from the boat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miserable
+Ginger! She pictured him, his little stock of money gone, wandering
+foot-sore about London, seeking in vain for work; forcing himself to
+call on Uncle Donald; being thrown down the front steps by haughty
+footmen; sleeping on the Embankment; gazing into the darkwaters of
+the Thames with the stare of hopelessness; climbing to the parapet
+and...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ugh!&#8221;
+said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had arrived at the door of the boarding-house, and Mrs. Meecher was
+regarding her with welcoming eyes, little knowing that to all
+practical intents and purposes she had slain in his prime a
+red-headed young man of amiable manners and&#8212;when not
+ill-advised by meddling, muddling females&#8212;of excellent
+behaviour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Meecher was friendly and garrulous.  <i>Variety,</i> the journal
+which, next to the dog Toto, was the thing she loved best in the
+world, had informed her on the Friday morning that Mr. Foster&#8217;s
+play had got over big in Detroit, and that Miss Doland had made every
+kind of hit.  It was not often that the old <i>alumni of</i> the
+boarding-house forced their way after this fashion into the Hall of
+Fame, and, according to Mrs. Meecher, the establishment was ringing
+with the news.  That blue ribbon round Toto&#8217;s neck was worn in
+honour of the triumph.  There was also, though you could not see it,
+a chicken dinner in Toto&#8217;s interior, by way of further
+celebration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+was it true that Mr. Fillmore had bought the piece? A great man, was
+Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s verdict.  Mr. Faucitt had always said so...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+how is Mr. Faucitt?&#8221; Sally asked, reproaching herself for
+having allowed the pressure of other matters to drive all thoughts of
+her late patient from her mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;s
+gone,&#8221; said Mrs. Meecher with such relish that to Sally, in her
+morbid condition, the words had only one meaning.  She turned white
+and clutched at the banisters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Gone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To
+England,&#8221; added Mrs. Meecher.  Sally was vastly relieved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I thought you meant...&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh
+no, not that.&#8221; Mrs. Meecher sighed, for she had been a little
+disappointed in the old gentleman, who started out as such a
+promising invalid, only to fall away into the dullness of robust
+health once more.  &#8220;He&#8217;s <i>well</i> enough.  I never
+seen anybody better.  You&#8217;d think,&#8221; said Mrs. Meecher,
+bearing bearing up with difficulty under her grievance, &#8220;you&#8217;d
+think this here new Spanish influenza was a sort of a tonic or
+somep&#8217;n, the way he looks now.  Of course,&#8221; she added,
+trying to find justification for a respected lodger, &#8220;he&#8217;s
+had good news.  His brother&#8217;s dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not,
+I don&#8217;t mean, that that was good news, far from it, though,
+come to think of it, all flesh is as grass and we all got to be
+prepared for somep&#8217;n of the sort breaking loose&#8230;but it
+seems this here new brother of his&#8212;I didn&#8217;t know he&#8217;d
+a brother, and I don&#8217;t suppose <i>you</i> knew he had a
+brother.  Men are secretive, ain&#8217;t they!&#8212;this brother of
+his has left him a parcel of money, and Mr. Faucitt he had to get on
+the Wednesday boat quick as he could and go right over to the other
+side to look after things.  Wind up the estate, I believe they call
+it.  Left in a awful hurry, he did.  Sent his love to you and said
+he&#8217;d write.  Funny him having a brother, now, wasn&#8217;t it?
+Not,&#8221; said Mrs. Meecher, at heart a reasonable woman, &#8220;that
+folks <i>don&#8217;t</i> have brothers.  I got two myself, one in
+Portland, Oregon, and the other goodness knows where he is.  But what
+I&#8217;m trying to say...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+disengaged herself, and went up to her room.  For a brief while the
+excitement which comes of hearing good news about those of whom we
+are fond acted as a stimulant, and she felt almost cheerful.  Dear
+old Mr. Faucitt.  She was sorry for his brother, of course, though
+she had never had the pleasure of his acquaintance and had only just
+heard that he had ever existed; but it was nice to think that her old
+friend&#8217;s remaining years would be years of affluence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently,
+however, she found her thoughts wandering back into their melancholy
+groove.  She threw herself wearily on the bed.  She was tired after
+her bad night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+she could not sleep.  Remorse kept her awake.  Besides, she could
+hear Mrs. Meecher prowling disturbingly about the house, apparently
+in search of someone, her progress indicated by creaking boards and
+the strenuous yapping of Toto.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+turned restlessly, and, having turned remained for a long instant
+transfixed and rigid.  She had seen something, and what she had seen
+was enough to surprise any girl in the privacy of her bedroom.  From
+underneath the bed there peeped coyly forth an undeniably masculine
+shoe and six inches of a grey trouser-leg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+bounded to the floor.  She was a girl of courage, and she meant to
+probe this matter thoroughly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+are you doing under my bed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+question was a reasonable one, and evidently seemed to the intruder
+to deserve an answer.  There was a muffled sneeze, and he began to
+crawl out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+shoe came first.  Then the legs.  Then a sturdy body in a dusty coat.
+ And finally there flashed on Sally&#8217;s fascinated gaze a head of
+so nearly the maximum redness that it could only belong to one person
+in the world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Lancelot Kemp, on all fours, blinked up at her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+hullo!&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">GINGER BECOMES A RIGHT-HAND MAN</h3>
+
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was not till she saw him actually standing there before her with his
+hair rumpled and a large smut on the tip of his nose, that Sally
+really understood how profoundly troubled she had been about this
+young man, and how vivid had been that vision of him bobbing about on
+the waters of the Thames, a cold and unappreciated corpse.  She was a
+girl of keen imagination, and she had allowed her imagination to riot
+unchecked.  Astonishment, therefore, at the extraordinary fact of his
+being there was for the moment thrust aside by relief.  Never before
+in her life had she experienced such an overwhelming rush of
+exhilaration.  She flung herself into a chair and burst into a
+screech of laughter which even to her own ears sounded strange.  It
+struck Ginger as hysterical.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, you know!&#8221; said Ginger, as the merriment showed no signs
+of abating.  Ginger was concerned.  Nasty shock for a girl, finding
+blighters under her bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+sat up, gurgling, and wiped her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I <i>am</i> glad to see you,&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+really?&#8221; said Ginger, gratified.  &#8220;That&#8217;s fine.&#8221;
+It occurred to him that some sort of apology would be a graceful act.
+ &#8220;I say, you know, awfully sorry.  About barging in here, I
+mean.  Never dreamed it was your room.  Unoccupied, I thought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+mention it.  I ought not to have disturbed you.  You were having a
+nice sleep, of course.  Do you always sleep on the floor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+was like this...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course, if you&#8217;re wearing it for ornament, as a sort of
+beauty-spot,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;all right.  But in case you
+don&#8217;t know, you&#8217;ve a smut on your nose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my aunt! Not really?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+would I deceive you on an important point like that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mind if I have a look in the glass?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Certainly,
+if you can stand it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+moved hurriedly to the dressing-table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+perfectly right,&#8221; he announced, applying his handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought I was.  I&#8217;m very quick at noticing things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+hair&#8217;s a bit rumpled, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very
+much so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+take my tis,&#8221; said Ginger, earnestly, &#8220;and never lie
+about under beds.  There&#8217;s nothing in it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+reminds me.  You won&#8217;t be offended if I asked you something?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+no.  Go ahead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+rather an impertinent question.  You may resent it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+no.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+then, what <i>were</i> you doing under my bed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+under your bed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Under my bed.  This.  It&#8217;s a bed, you know.  Mine.  My bed.
+You were under it.  Why? Or putting it another way, why were you
+under my bed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was hiding.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Playing
+hide-and-seek? That explains it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mrs.
+What&#8217;s-her-name&#8212;Beecher&#8212;Meecher&#8212;was after me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+shook her head disapprovingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+mustn&#8217;t encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes.  It
+unsettles her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+passed an agitated hand over his forehead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+like this...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+hate to keep criticizing your appearance,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;and
+personally I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you
+put about a pound of dust on it.  Your hands are probably grubby.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+inspected them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;They
+are!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+not make a really good job of it and have a wash?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;d
+prefer it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+awfully.  I mean to say it&#8217;s your basin, you know, and all
+that.  What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+no.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Touching
+the matter of soap...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Use
+mine.  We Americans are famous for our hospitality.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+awfully.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+towel is on your right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+awfully.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+I&#8217;ve a clothes brush in my bag.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thanks
+awfully.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Splashing
+followed like a sea-lion taking a dip.  &#8220;Now, then,&#8221; said
+Sally, &#8220;why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger&#8217;s face.  &#8220;I
+say, you know, that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads,
+what! Scares <i>me!</i> Word was brought that she was on the prowl,
+so it seemed to me a judicious move to take cover till she sort of
+blew over.  If she&#8217;d found me, she&#8217;d have made me take
+that dog of hers for a walk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Toto?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Toto.
+ You know,&#8221; said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, &#8220;no
+dog&#8217;s got a right to be a dog like that.  I don&#8217;t suppose
+there&#8217;s anyone keener on dogs than I am, but a thing like a
+woolly rat.&#8221; He shuddered slightly.  &#8220;Well, one hates to
+be seen about with it in the public streets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+couldn&#8217;t you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to
+take Toto out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!
+There you rather touch the spot.  You see, the fact of the matter is,
+I&#8217;m a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard
+to take what you might call a firm stand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday
+before last and you weren&#8217;t in the place then.  You can&#8217;t
+have been here more than a week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+been here just a week.  That&#8217;s the week I&#8217;m behind with.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night and
+lost a goodish bit of what I&#8217;d won.  And, somehow or another,
+when I got to America, the stuff seemed to slip away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+made you come to America at all?&#8221; said Sally, asking the
+question which, she felt, any sensible person would have asked at the
+opening of the conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One
+of his familiar blushes raced over Ginger&#8217;s face.  &#8220;Oh, I
+thought I would.  Land of opportunity, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Have
+you managed to find any of the opportunities yet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I have got a job of sorts, I&#8217;m a waiter at a rummy little place
+on Second Avenue.  The salary isn&#8217;t big, but I&#8217;d have
+wangled enough out of it to pay last week&#8217;s rent, only they
+docked me a goodish bit for breaking plates and what not.  The fact
+is, I&#8217;m making rather a hash of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Ginger! You oughtn&#8217;t to be a waiter!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+what the boss seems to think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean, you ought to be doing something ever so much better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+what? You&#8217;ve no notion how well all these blighters here seem
+to be able to get along without my help.  I&#8217;ve tramped all over
+the place, offering my services, but they all say they&#8217;ll try
+to carry on as they are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+reflected.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+make Fillmore give you a job.  I wonder I didn&#8217;t think of it
+before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+brother.  Yes, he&#8217;ll be able to use you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+as?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+considered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;As
+a&#8212;as a&#8212;oh, as his right-hand man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Does
+he want a right-hand man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sure
+to.  He&#8217;s a young fellow trying to get along.  Sure to want a
+right-hand man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;&#8216;M
+yes,&#8221; said Ginger reflectively.  &#8220;Of course, I&#8217;ve
+never been a right-hand man, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+you&#8217;d pick it up.  I&#8217;ll take you round to him now.  He&#8217;s
+staying at the Astor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There&#8217;s
+just one thing,&#8221; said Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+might make a hash of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Heavens,
+Ginger! There must be something in this world that you wouldn&#8217;t
+make a hash of.  Don&#8217;t stand arguing any longer.  Are you dry?
+and clean? Very well, then.  Let&#8217;s be off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Right
+ho.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+took a step towards the door, then paused, rigid, with one leg in the
+air, as though some spell had been cast upon him.  From the passage
+outside there had sounded a shrill yapping.  Ginger looked at Sally.
+Then he looked&#8212;longingly&#8212;at the bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be such a coward,&#8221; said Sally, severely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+much do you owe Mrs. Meecher?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Round
+about twelve dollars, I think it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+pay her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+flushed awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+I&#8217;m hanged if you will! I mean,&#8221; he stammered, &#8220;it&#8217;s
+frightfully good of you and all that, and I can&#8217;t tell you how
+grateful I am, but honestly, I couldn&#8217;t...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not press the point.  She liked him the better for a rugged
+independence, which in the days of his impecuniousness her brother
+Fillmore had never dreamed of exhibiting.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very
+well,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Have it your own way.  Proud.  That&#8217;s
+me all over, Mabel.  Ginger!&#8221; She broke off sharply.  &#8220;Pull
+yourself together.  Where is your manly spirit? I&#8217;d be ashamed
+to be such a coward.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Awfully
+sorry, but, honestly, that woolly dog...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Never
+mind the dog.  I&#8217;ll see you through.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They
+came out into the passage almost on top of Toto, who was stalking
+phantom rats.  Mrs. Meecher was manoeuvring in the background.  Her
+face lit up grimly at the sight of Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Mister
+Kemp!</i>  I been looking for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+intervened brightly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Mrs. Meecher,&#8221; she said, shepherding her young charge through
+the danger zone, &#8220;I was so surprised to meet Mr. Kemp here.  He
+is a great friend of mine.  We met in France.  We&#8217;re going off
+now to have a long talk about old times, and then I&#8217;m taking
+him to see my brother...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Toto...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Dear
+little thing! You ought to take him for a walk,&#8221; said Sally.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s a lovely day.  Mr. Kemp was saying just now that he
+would have liked to take him, but we&#8217;re rather in a hurry and
+shall probably have to get into a taxi.  You&#8217;ve no idea how
+busy my brother is just now.  If we&#8217;re late, he&#8217;ll never
+forgive us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+passed on down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Meecher dissatisfied but
+irresolute.  There was something about Sally which even in her
+pre-wealthy days had always baffled Mrs. Meecher and cramped her
+style, and now that she was rich and independent she inspired in the
+chatelaine of the boarding-house an emotion which was almost awe.
+The front door had closed before Mrs. Meecher had collected her
+faculties; and Ginger, pausing on the sidewalk, drew a long breath.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+know, you&#8217;re wonderful!&#8221; he said, regarding Sally with
+unconcealed admiration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+accepted the compliment composedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+we&#8217;ll go and hunt up Fillmore,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;But
+there&#8217;s no need to hurry, of course, really.  We&#8217;ll go
+for a walk first, and then call at the Astor and make him give us
+lunch.  I want to hear all about you.  I&#8217;ve heard something
+already.  I met your cousin, Mr. Carmyle.  He was on the train coming
+from Detroit.  Did you know that he was in America?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+I&#8217;ve&#8212;er&#8212;rather lost touch with the Family.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So
+I gathered from Mr. Carmyle.  And I feel hideously responsible.  It
+was all through me that all this happened.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+no.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course it was.  I made you what you are to-day&#8212;I hope I&#8217;m
+satisfied&#8212;I dragged and dragged you down until the soul within
+you died, so to speak.  I know perfectly well that you wouldn&#8217;t
+have dreamed of savaging the Family as you seem to have done if it
+hadn&#8217;t been for what I said to you at Roville.  Ginger, tell
+me, what <i>did</i> happen? I&#8217;m dying to know.  Mr. Carmyle
+said you insulted your uncle!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Donald.
+Yes, we did have a bit of a scrap, as a matter of fact.  He made me
+go out to dinner with him and we&#8212;er&#8212;sort of disagreed.
+To start with, he wanted me to apologize to old Scrymgeour, and I
+rather gave it a miss.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Noble
+fellow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Scrymgeour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+silly! You.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+ah!&#8221; Ginger blushed.  &#8220;And then there was all that about
+the soup, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+do you mean, &#8216;all that about the soup&#8217;? What about the
+soup? What soup?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+things sort of hotted up a bit when the soup arrived.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean, the trouble seemed to start, as it were, when the waiter had
+finished ladling out the mulligatawny.  Thick soup, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know mulligatawny is a thick soup.  Yes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+my old uncle&#8212;I&#8217;m not blaming him, don&#8217;t you
+know&#8212;more his misfortune than his fault&#8212;I can see that
+now&#8212;but he&#8217;s got a heavy moustache.  Like a walrus,
+rather, and he&#8217;s a bit apt to inhale the stuff through it.  And
+I&#8212;well, I asked him not to.  It was just a suggestion, you
+know.  He cut up fairly rough, and by the time the fish came round we
+were more or less down on the mat chewing holes in one another.  My
+fault, probably.  I wasn&#8217;t feeling particularly well-disposed
+towards the Family that night.  I&#8217;d just had a talk with
+Bruce&#8212;my cousin, you know&#8212;in Piccadilly, and that had
+rather got the wind up me.  Bruce always seems to get on my nerves a
+bit somehow and&#8212;Uncle Donald asking me to dinner and all that.
+By the way, did you get the books?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+books?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bruce
+said he wanted to send you some books.  That was why I gave him your
+address.&#8221; Sally stared.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+never sent me any books.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+he said he was going to, and I had to tell him where to send them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+walked on, a little thoughtfully.  She was not a vain girl, but it
+was impossible not to perceive in the light of this fresh evidence
+that Mr. Carmyle had made a journey of three thousand miles with the
+sole object of renewing his acquaintance with her.  It did not
+matter, of course, but it was vaguely disturbing.  No girl cares to
+be dogged by a man she rather dislikes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go
+on telling me about your uncle,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+there&#8217;s not much more to tell.  I&#8217;d happened to get that
+wireless of yours just before I started out to dinner with him, and I
+was more or less feeling that I wasn&#8217;t going to stand any rot
+from the Family.  I&#8217;d got to the fish course, hadn&#8217;t I?
+Well, we managed to get through that somehow, but we didn&#8217;t
+survive the fillet steak.  One thing seemed to lead to another, and
+the show sort of bust up.  He called me a good many things, and I got
+a bit fed-up, and finally I told him I hadn&#8217;t any more use for
+the Family and was going to start out on my own.  And&#8212;well, I
+did, don&#8217;t you know.  And here I am.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+listened to this saga breathlessly.  More than ever did she feel
+responsible for her young protégé, and any faint qualms
+which she had entertained as to the wisdom of transferring
+practically the whole of her patrimony to the care of so erratic a
+financier as her brother vanished.  It was her plain duty to see that
+Ginger was started well in the race of life, and Fillmore was going
+to come in uncommonly handy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We&#8217;ll
+go to the Astor now,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and I&#8217;ll introduce
+you to Fillmore. He&#8217;s a theatrical manager and he&#8217;s sure
+to have something for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+awfully good of you to bother about me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+said Sally, &#8220;I regard you as a grandson.  Hail that cab, will
+you?&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SALLY IN THE SHADOWS</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger
+Kemp that a sort of golden age had set in.  On all the frontiers of
+her little kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each
+morning in a world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most
+captious pessimist could hardly have found anything in it to
+criticize.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">True,
+Gerald was still a thousand miles away.  Going to Chicago to
+superintend the opening of &#8220;The Primrose Way&#8221;; for
+Fillmore had acceded to his friend Ike&#8217;s suggestion in the
+matter of producing it first in Chicago, and he had been called in by
+a distracted manager to revise the work of a brother dramatist, whose
+comedy was in difficulties at one of the theatres in that city; and
+this meant he would have to remain on the spot for some time to come.
+ It was disappointing, for Sally had been looking forward to having
+him back in New York in a few days; but she refused to allow herself
+to be depressed.  Life as a whole was much too satisfactory for that.
+ Life indeed, in every other respect, seemed perfect.  Fillmore was
+going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; she had found an
+apartment; her new hat suited her; and &#8220;The Primrose Way&#8221;
+was a tremendous success.  Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore&#8217;s
+account, was paying little attention to anything except &#8220;The
+Primrose Way.&#8221; National problems had ceased to interest the
+citizens.  Local problems left them cold.  Their minds were riveted
+to the exclusion of all else on the problem of how to secure seats.
+The production of the piece, according to Fillmore, had been the most
+terrific experience that had come to stir Chicago since the great
+fire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Of
+all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally&#8217;s
+thinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger&#8217;s future had
+been solved.  Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.  (Managing Director, Fillmore
+Nicholas)&#8212;Fillmore would have made the title longer, only that
+was all that would go on the brass plate&#8212;and was to be found
+daily in the outer office, his duties consisting mainly, it seemed,
+in reading the evening papers.  What exactly he was, even Ginger
+hardly knew.  Sometimes he felt like the man at the wheel, sometimes
+like a glorified office boy, and not so very glorified at that.  For
+the most part he had to prevent the mob rushing and getting at
+Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in the inner office pondering
+great schemes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But,
+though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger&#8217;s
+mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchange for the
+fifty dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertain about
+his gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabled him
+to do it.  He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadays
+they were meeting frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish
+her new apartment.  In this task, he spared no efforts.  He said that
+it kept him in condition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+what I mean to say is,&#8221; said Ginger, pausing in the act of
+carrying a massive easy chair to the third spot which Sally had
+selected in the last ten minutes, &#8220;if I didn&#8217;t sweat
+about a bit and help you after the way you got me that job...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,
+desist,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but honestly...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you don&#8217;t stop it, I&#8217;ll make you move that chair into the
+next room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Shall
+I?&#8221; Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and took a new grip.
+&#8220;Anything you say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Silly!
+Of course not.  The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom and
+the kitchen.  What on earth would I want a great lumbering chair in
+them for? All the same, I believe the first we chose was the best.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Back
+she goes, then, what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+reflected frowningly.  This business of setting up house was causing
+her much thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,&#8221;
+she decided.  &#8220;By the window is better.&#8221; She looked at
+him remorsefully.  &#8220;I&#8217;m giving you a lot of trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Trouble!&#8221;
+Ginger, accompanied by a chair, staggered across the room.  &#8220;The
+way I look at it is this.&#8221; He wiped a bead of perspiration from
+his freckled forehead.  &#8220;You got me that job, and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Stop!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Right
+ho... Still, you did, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+sat down in the armchair and stretched herself.  Watching Ginger work
+had given her a vicarious fatigue.  She surveyed the room proudly.
+It was certainly beginning to look cosy.  The pictures were up, the
+carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order.  For almost the
+first time in her life she had the restful sensation of being at
+home.  She had always longed, during the past three years of
+boarding-house existence, for a settled abode, a place where she
+could lock the door on herself and be alone.  The apartment was
+small, but it was undeniably a haven.  She looked about her and could
+see no flaw in it... except... She had a sudden sense of something
+missing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo!&#8221;
+she said.  &#8220;Where&#8217;s that photograph of me? I&#8217;m sure
+I put it on the mantelpiece yesterday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+exertions seemed to have brought the blood to Ginger&#8217;s face.
+He was a rich red.  He inspected the mantelpiece narrowly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No.
+ No photograph here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know there isn&#8217;t.  But it was there yesterday.  Or was it? I
+know I meant to put it there.  Perhaps I forgot.  It&#8217;s the most
+beautiful thing you ever saw.  Not a bit like me; but what of that?
+They touch &#8216;em up in the dark-room, you know.  I value it
+because it looks the way I should like to look if I could.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+never had a beautiful photograph taken of myself,&#8221; said Ginger,
+solemnly, with gentle regret.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Cheer
+up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I don&#8217;t <i>mind.  </i>I only mentioned...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+said Sally, &#8220;pardon my interrupting your remarks, which I know
+are valuable, but this chair is&#8212;not&#8212;right! It ought to
+be where it was at the beginning.  Could you give your imitation of a
+pack-mule just once more? And after that I&#8217;ll make you some
+tea.  <i>If</i> there&#8217;s any tea&#8212;or milk&#8212;or cups.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+are cups all right.  I know, because I smashed two the day before
+yesterday.  I&#8217;ll nip round the corner for some milk, shall I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+please nip.  All this hard work has taken it out of me terribly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Over
+the tea-table Sally became inquisitive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+I can&#8217;t understand about this job of yours.  Ginger&#8212;which
+as you are just about to observe, I was noble enough to secure for
+you&#8212;is the amount of leisure that seems to go with it.  How is
+it that you are able to spend your valuable time&#8212;Fillmore&#8217;s
+valuable time, rather&#8212;juggling with my furniture every day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I can usually get off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+oughtn&#8217;t you to be at your post doing&#8212;whatever it is you
+do? What <i>do</i> you do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I sort of mess about, you know.&#8221; He pondered. I
+interview divers blighters and tell &#8216;em your brother is out and
+take their names and addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Does
+Fillmore consult you much?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+lets me read some of the plays that are sent in.  Awful tosh most of
+them.  Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an
+evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;As
+a treat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To
+see some special act, you know.  To report on it.  In case he might
+want to use it for this revue of his.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Which
+revue?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Didn&#8217;t
+you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather.  A whacking big
+affair.  Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But&#8212;my
+goodness!&#8221; Sally was alarmed.  It was just like Fillmore, she
+felt, to go branching out into these expensive schemes when he ought
+to be moving warily and trying to consolidate the small success he
+had had.  All his life he had thought in millions where the prudent
+man would have been content with hundreds.  An inexhaustible fount of
+optimism bubbled eternally within him.  &#8220;That&#8217;s rather
+ambitious,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Ambitious sort of cove, your brother.  Quite the Napoleon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shall have to talk to him,&#8221; said Sally decidedly.  She was
+annoyed with Fillmore.  Everything had been going so beautifully,
+with everybody peaceful and happy and prosperous and no anxiety
+anywhere, till he had spoiled things.  Now she would have to start
+worrying again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course,&#8221; argued Ginger, &#8220;there&#8217;s money in revues.
+Over in London fellows make pots out of them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+shook her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+won&#8217;t do,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;And I&#8217;ll tell you
+another thing that won&#8217;t do.  This armchair.  Of <i>course</i>
+it ought to be over by the window.  You can see that yourself, can&#8217;t
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Absolutely!&#8221;
+said Ginger, patiently preparing for action once more.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+anxiety with regard to her ebullient brother was not lessened by the
+receipt shortly afterwards of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Have you been feeding Fillmore meat?</i></p>
+
+<p class="left">the
+telegram ran: and, while Sally could not have claimed that she
+completely understood it, there was a sinister suggestion about the
+message which decided her to wait no longer before making
+investigations.  She tore herself away from the joys of furnishing
+and went round to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas
+Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.  (Managing Director, Fillmore Nicholas)
+without delay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger,
+she discovered on arrival, was absent from his customary post, his
+place in the outer office being taken by a lad of tender years and
+pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a proud reserve on hearing
+Sally&#8217;s name, and told her to walk right in.  Sally walked
+right in, and found Fillmore with his feet on an untidy desk,
+studying what appeared to be costume-designs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah,
+Sally!&#8221; he said in the distrait, tired voice which speaks of
+vast preoccupations.  Prosperity was still putting in its silent,
+deadly work on the Hope of the American Theatre.  What, even at as
+late an epoch as the return from Detroit, had been merely a smooth
+fullness around the angle of the jaw was now frankly and without
+disguise a double chin.  He was wearing a new waistcoat and it was
+unbuttoned.  &#8220;I am rather busy,&#8221; he went on.  &#8220;Always
+glad to see you, but I <i>am</i> rather busy.  I have a hundred
+things to attend to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+attend to me.  That&#8217;ll only make a hundred and one.  Fill,
+what&#8217;s all this I hear about a revue?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+looked as like a small boy caught in the act of stealing jam as it is
+possible for a great theatrical manager to look.  He had been
+wondering in his darker moments what Sally would say about that
+project when she heard of it, and he had hoped that she would not
+hear of it until all the preparations were so complete that
+interference would be impossible.  He was extremely fond of Sally,
+but there was, he knew, a lamentable vein of caution in her make-up
+which might lead her to criticize.  And how can your man of affairs
+carry on if women are buzzing round criticizing all the time? He
+picked up a pen and put it down; buttoned his waistcoat and
+unbuttoned it; and scratched his ear with one of the costume-designs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh
+yes, the revue!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+no good saying &#8216;Oh yes&#8217;! You know perfectly well it&#8217;s
+a crazy idea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Really...
+these business matters... this interference...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t want to run your affairs for you, Fill, but that money of
+mine does make me a sort of partner, I suppose, and I think I have a
+right to raise a loud yell of agony when I see you risking it on
+a...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pardon
+me,&#8221; said Fillmore loftily, looking happier.  &#8220;Let me
+explain.  Women never understand business matters.  Your money is
+tied up exclusively in &#8216;The Primrose Way,&#8217; which, as you
+know, is a tremendous success.  You have nothing whatever to worry
+about as regards any new production I may make.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+not worrying about the money.  I&#8217;m worrying about you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore&#8217;s
+face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be alarmed about <i>me.  </i>I&#8217;m all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+aren&#8217;t all right.  You&#8217;ve no business, when you&#8217;ve
+only just got started as a manager, to be rushing into an enormous
+production like this.  You can&#8217;t afford it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear child, as I said before, women cannot understand these things.
+A man in my position can always command money for a new venture.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mean to say you have found somebody silly enough to put up
+money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Certainly.
+ I don&#8217;t know that there is any secret about it.  Your friend,
+Mr. Carmyle, has taken an interest in some of my forthcoming
+productions.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;
+Sally had been disturbed before, but she was aghast now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This
+was something she had never anticipated.  Bruce Carmyle seemed to be
+creeping into her life like an advancing tide.  There appeared to be
+no eluding him.  Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do
+nothing but rage impotently.  The situation was becoming impossible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+quite all right,&#8221; he assured her.  &#8220;He&#8217;s a very
+rich man.  Large private means, besides his big income.  Even if
+anything goes wrong...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+isn&#8217;t that.  It&#8217;s...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+hopelessness of explaining to Fillmore stopped Sally.  And while she
+was chafing at this new complication which had come to upset the
+orderly routine of her life there was an outburst of voices in the
+other office.  Ginger&#8217;s understudy seemed to be endeavouring to
+convince somebody that the Big Chief was engaged and not to be
+intruded upon.  In this he was unsuccessful, for the door opened
+tempestuously and Miss Winch sailed in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore,
+you poor nut,&#8221; said Miss Winch, for though she might wrap up
+her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications,
+when it came to the spoken word she was directness itself, &#8220;stop
+picking straws in your hair and listen to me. You&#8217;re dippy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+last time Sally had seen Fillmore&#8217;s fiancée, she had
+been impressed by her imperturbable calm.  Miss Winch, in Detroit,
+had seemed a girl whom nothing could ruffle.  That she had lapsed now
+from this serene placidity, struck Sally as ominous.  Slightly though
+she knew her, she felt that it could be no ordinary happening that
+had so animated her sister-in-law-to-be.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!
+Here you are!&#8221; said Fillmore.  He had started to his feet
+indignantly at the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in its
+den, but calm had returned when he saw who the intruder was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+here I am!&#8221; Miss Winch dropped despairingly into a
+swivel-chair, and endeavoured to restore herself with a stick of
+chewing-gum.  &#8220;Fillmore, darling, you&#8217;re the sweetest
+thing on earth, and I love you, but on present form you could just
+walk straight into Bloomingdale and they&#8217;d give you the royal
+suite.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear girl...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do <i>you</i> think?&#8221; demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+just been telling him,&#8221; said Sally, welcoming this ally, &#8220;I
+think it&#8217;s absurd at this stage of things for him to put on an
+enormous revue...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Revue?&#8221;
+Miss Winch stopped in the act of gnawing her gum.  &#8220;What
+revue?&#8221; She flung up her arms.  &#8220;I shall have to swallow
+this gum,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;You can&#8217;t chew with your
+head going round.  Are you putting on a revue <i>too?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat.  He had a hounded look.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Certainly,
+certainly,&#8221; he replied in a tone of some feverishness.  &#8220;I
+wish you girls would leave me to manage...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Dippy!&#8221;
+said Miss Winch once more.  &#8220;Telegraphic address: Tea-Pot,
+Matteawan.&#8221; She swivelled round to Sally again.  &#8220;Say,
+listen! This boy must be stopped.  We must form a gang in his best
+interests and get him put away.  What do you think he proposes doing?
+I&#8217;ll give you three guesses.  Oh, what&#8217;s the use? You&#8217;d
+never hit it.  This poor wandering lad has got it all fixed up to
+star me&#8212;<i>me&#8212;</i>in a new show!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved it protestingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have used my own judgment...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+<i>sir!&#8221;</i> proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the
+interruption.  &#8220;That&#8217;s what he&#8217;s planning to spring
+on an unsuspicious public.  I&#8217;m sitting peacefully in my room
+at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a few cents&#8217; worth of
+scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper, when the telephone
+rings.  Gentleman below would like to see me.  Oh, ask him to wait.
+Business of flinging on a few clothes.  Down in elevator.  Bright
+sunrise effects in lobby.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+on earth do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+gentleman had a head of red hair which had to be seen to be
+believed,&#8221; explained Miss Winch.  &#8220;Lit up the lobby.
+Management had switched off all the electrics for sake of economy.
+An Englishman he was.  Nice fellow.  Named Kemp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+is Ginger in Chicago?&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;I wondered why he
+wasn&#8217;t on his little chair in the outer office.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+sent Kemp to Chicago,&#8221; said Fillmore, &#8220;to have a look at
+the show.  It is my policy, if I am unable to pay periodical visits
+myself, to send a representative...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Save
+it up for the long winter evenings,&#8221; advised Miss Winch,
+cutting in on this statement of managerial tactics.  &#8220;Mr. Kemp
+may have been there to look at the show, but his chief reason for
+coming was to tell me to beat it back to New York to enter into my
+kingdom.  Fillmore wanted me on the spot, he told me, so that I could
+sit around in this office here, interviewing my supporting company.
+Me! Can you or can you not,&#8221; inquired Miss Winch frankly, &#8220;tie
+it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;
+Sally hesitated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+say it! I know it just as well as you do.  It&#8217;s too sad for
+words.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys,&#8221; said
+Fillmore reproachfully.  &#8220;I have had a certain amount of
+experience in theatrical matters&#8212;I have seen a good deal of
+acting&#8212;and I assure you that as a character-actress you...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Winch rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically, and
+sat down again.  She produced another stick of chewing-gum, then
+shook her head and replaced it in her bag.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+a darling old thing to talk like that,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and I
+hate to wake you out of your daydreams, but, honestly, Fillmore,
+dear, do just step out of the padded cell for one moment and listen
+to reason.  I know exactly what has been passing in your poor
+disordered bean.  You took Elsa Doland out of a minor part and made
+her a star overnight.  She goes to Chicago, and the critics and
+everybody else rave about her.  As a matter of fact,&#8221; she said
+to Sally with enthusiasm, for hers was an honest and generous nature,
+&#8220;you can&#8217;t realize, not having seen her play there, what
+an amazing hit she has made.  She really is a sensation.  Everybody
+says she&#8217;s going to be the biggest thing on record.  Very well,
+then, what does Fillmore do? The poor fish claps his hand to his
+forehead and cries &#8216;Gadzooks! An idea! I&#8217;ve done it
+before, I&#8217;ll do it again.  I&#8217;m the fellow who can make a
+star out of anything.&#8217; And he picks on <i>me!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear girl...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now,
+the flaw in the scheme is this.  Elsa is a genius, and if he hadn&#8217;t
+made her a star somebody else would have done.  But little Gladys?
+That&#8217;s something else again.&#8221; She turned to Sally.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ve seen me in action, and let me tell you you&#8217;ve
+seen me at my best.  Give me a maid&#8217;s part, with a tray to
+carry on in act one and a couple of &#8216;Yes, madam&#8217;s&#8217;
+in act two, and I&#8217;m <i>there!</i> Ellen Terry hasn&#8217;t
+anything on me when it comes to saying &#8216;Yes, madam,&#8217; and
+I&#8217;m willing to back myself for gold, notes, or lima beans
+against Sarah Bernhardt as a tray-carrier.  But there I finish.  That
+lets me out.  And anybody who thinks otherwise is going to lose a lot
+of money.  Between ourselves the only thing I can do really well is
+to cook...&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear Gladys!&#8221; cried Fillmore revolted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+a heaven-born cook, and I don&#8217;t mind notifying the world to
+that effect.  I can cook a chicken casserole so that you would leave
+home and mother for it.  Also my English pork-pies! One of these days
+I&#8217;ll take an afternoon off and assemble one for you.  You&#8217;d
+be surprised! But acting&#8212;no.  I can&#8217;t do it, and I don&#8217;t
+want to do it.  I only went on the stage for fun, and my idea of fun
+isn&#8217;t to plough through a star part with all the critics waving
+their axes in the front row, and me knowing all the time that it&#8217;s
+taking money out of Fillmore&#8217;s bankroll that ought to be going
+towards buying the little home with stationary wash-tubs... Well,
+that&#8217;s that, Fillmore, old darling.  I thought I&#8217;d just
+mention it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+could not help being sorry for Fillmore.  He was sitting with his
+chin on his hands, staring moodily before him&#8212;Napoleon at
+Elba.  It was plain that this project of taking Miss Winch by the
+scruff of the neck and hurling her to the heights had been very near
+his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+that&#8217;s how you feel,&#8221; he said in a stricken voice, &#8220;there
+is nothing more to say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes there is.  We will now talk about this revue of yours.  It&#8217;s
+off!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+bounded to his feet; he thumped the desk with a well-nourished fist.
+A man can stand just so much.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+is not off! Great heavens! It&#8217;s too much! I will not put up
+with this interference with my business concerns.  I will not be tied
+and hampered.  Here am I, a man of broad vision and... and... broad
+vision... I form my plans... my plans... I form them... I shape my
+schemes... and what happens? A horde of girls flock into my private
+office while I am endeavouring to concentrate... and concentrate... I
+won&#8217;t stand it.  Advice, yes.  Interference, no.  I... I...
+I... and kindly remember that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+door closed with a bang.  A fainter detonation announced the
+whirlwind passage through the outer office.  Footsteps died away down
+the corridor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+looked at Miss Winch, stunned.  A roused and militant Fillmore was
+new to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss
+Winch took out the stick of chewing-gum again and unwrapped it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Isn&#8217;t
+he cute!&#8221; she said.  &#8220;I hope he doesn&#8217;t get the
+soft kind,&#8221; she murmured, chewing reflectively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+soft kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;ll
+be back soon with a box of candy,&#8221; explained Miss Winch, &#8220;and
+he will get that sloshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I
+like the other.  Well, one thing&#8217;s certain.  Fillmore&#8217;s
+got it up his nose.  He&#8217;s beginning to hop about and sing in
+the sunlight.  It&#8217;s going to be hard work to get that boy down
+to earth again.&#8221; Miss Winch heaved a gentle sigh.  &#8220;I
+<i>should</i> like him to have enough left in the old stocking to pay
+the first year&#8217;s rent when the wedding bells ring out.&#8221;
+She bit meditatively on her chewing-gum.  &#8220;Not,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;that it matters.  I&#8217;d be just as happy in two
+rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore was there.  You&#8217;ve
+no notion how dippy I am about him.&#8221; Her freckled face glowed.
+&#8220;He grows on me like a darned drug.  And the funny thing is
+that I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that
+he&#8217;s the most perfect chump.  He <i>is</i> a chump, you know.
+That&#8217;s what I love about him.  That and the way his ears wiggle
+when he gets excited.  Chumps always make the best husbands.  When
+you marry.  Sally, grab a chump.  Tap his forehead first, and if it
+rings solid, don&#8217;t hesitate.  All the unhappy marriages come
+from the husband having brains.  What good are brains to a man? They
+only unsettle him.&#8221; She broke off and scrutinized Sally
+closely.  &#8220;Say, what do you do with your skin?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,&#8221;
+said Miss Winch enviously, &#8220;I wish I could train my darned fool
+of a complexion to get that way.  Freckles are the devil.  When I was
+eight I had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I&#8217;ve
+been adding to it right along.  Some folks say lemon-juice&#8217;ll
+cure &#8216;em.  Mine lap up all I give &#8216;em and ask for more.
+There&#8217;s only one way of getting rid of freckles, and that is to
+saw the head off at the neck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why do you want to get rid of them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why?
+Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband&#8217;s
+love, doesn&#8217;t enjoy going about looking like something out of a
+dime museum.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+absurd! Fillmore worships freckles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+he tell you so?&#8221; asked Miss Winch eagerly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+in so many words, but you can see it in his eye.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I will
+say that.  And, what&#8217;s more, I don&#8217;t think feminine
+loveliness means much to Fillmore, or he&#8217;d never have picked on
+me.  Still, it is calculated to give a girl a jar, you must admit,
+when she picks up a magazine and reads an advertisement of a
+face-cream beginning, &#8216;Your husband is growing cold to you.
+Can you blame him? Have you really <i>tried</i> to cure those
+unsightly blemishes?&#8217; &#8212;meaning what I&#8217;ve got.
+Still, I haven&#8217;t noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe
+it&#8217;s all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was a subdued Sally who received Ginger when he called at her
+apartment a few days later on his return from Chicago.  It seemed to
+her, thinking over the recent scene, that matters were even worse
+than she had feared.  This absurd revue, which she had looked on as a
+mere isolated outbreak of foolishness, was, it would appear, only a
+specimen of the sort of thing her misguided brother proposed to do, a
+sample selected at random from a wholesale lot of frantic schemes.
+Fillmore, there was no longer any room for doubt, was preparing to
+express his great soul on a vast scale.  And she could not dissuade
+him.  A humiliating thought.  She had grown so accustomed through the
+years to being the dominating mind that this revolt from her
+authority made her feel helpless and inadequate.  Her self-confidence
+was shaken.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+Bruce Carmyle was financing him... It was illogical, but Sally could
+not help feeling that when&#8212;she had not the optimism to say
+&#8220;if&#8221;&#8212;he lost his money, she would somehow be under
+an obligation to him, as if the disaster had been her fault.  She
+disliked, with a whole-hearted intensity, the thought of being under
+an obligation to Mr. Carmyle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+said he had looked in to inspect the furniture on the chance that
+Sally might want it shifted again: but Sally had no criticisms to
+make on that subject.  Weightier matters occupied her mind.  She sat
+Ginger down in the armchair and started to pour out her troubles.  It
+soothed her to talk to him.  In a world which had somehow become
+chaotic again after an all too brief period of peace, he was solid
+and consoling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shouldn&#8217;t worry,&#8221; observed Ginger with Winch-like calm,
+when she had finished drawing for him the picture of a Fillmore
+rampant against a background of expensive revues.  Sally nearly shook
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+all very well to tell me not to worry,&#8221; she cried.  &#8220;How
+can I help worrying? Fillmore&#8217;s simply a baby, and he&#8217;s
+just playing the fool.  He has lost his head completely.  And I can&#8217;t
+stop him! That is the awful part of it.  I used to be able to look
+him in the eye, and he would wag his tail and crawl back into his
+basket, but now I seem to have no influence at all over him.  He just
+snorts and goes on running round in circles, breathing fire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+did not abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think you are making too much of all this, you know.  I mean to say,
+it&#8217;s quite likely he&#8217;s found some mug... what I mean is,
+it&#8217;s just possible that your brother isn&#8217;t standing the
+entire racket himself.  Perhaps some rich Johnnie has breezed along
+with a pot of money.  It often happens like that, you know.  You read
+in the paper that some manager or other is putting on some show or
+other, when really the chap who&#8217;s actually supplying the pieces
+of eight is some anonymous lad in the background.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+is just what has happened, and it makes it worse than ever.  Fillmore
+tells me that your cousin, Mr. Carmyle, is providing the money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This
+did interest Ginger.  He sat up with a jerk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I say!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Sally, still agitated but pleased that she had at last shaken
+him out of his trying attitude of detachment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+was scowling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+a bit off,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think so, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t like that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nor
+do I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you know what I think?&#8221; said Ginger, ever a man of plain speech
+and a reckless plunger into delicate subjects.  &#8220;The blighter&#8217;s
+in love with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+flushed.  After examining the evidence before her, she had reached
+the same conclusion in the privacy of her thoughts, but it
+embarrassed her to hear the thing put into bald words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know Bruce,&#8221; continued Ginger, &#8220;and, believe me, he isn&#8217;t
+the sort of cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly good
+motive.  Of course, he&#8217;s got tons of money.  His old guvnor was
+the Carmyle of Carmyle, Brent &amp; Co.&#8212;coal mines up in
+Wales, and all that sort of thing&#8212;and I suppose he must have
+left Bruce something like half a million.  No need for the fellow to
+have worked at all, if he hadn&#8217;t wanted to.  As far as having
+the stuff goes, he&#8217;s in a position to back all the shows he
+wants to.  But the point is, it&#8217;s right out of his line.  He
+doesn&#8217;t do that sort of thing.  Not a drop of sporting blood in
+the chap.  Why I&#8217;ve known him stick the whole family on to me
+just because it got noised about that I&#8217;d dropped a couple of
+quid on the Grand National.  If he&#8217;s really brought himself to
+the point of shelling out on a risky proposition like a show, it
+means something, take my word for it.  And I don&#8217;t see what
+else it can mean except... well, I mean to say, <i>is</i> it likely
+that he&#8217;s doing it simply to make your brother look on him as a
+good egg and a pal, and all that sort of thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+it&#8217;s not,&#8221; agreed Sally.  &#8220;But don&#8217;t let&#8217;s
+talk about it any more.  Tell me all about your trip to Chicago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+right.  But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don&#8217;t see
+how it matters to you one way or the other.  You&#8217;re engaged to
+another fellow, and when Bruce rolls up and says:  &#8216;What about
+it?&#8217; you&#8217;ve simply to tell him that the shot isn&#8217;t
+on the board and will he kindly melt away.  Then you hand him his hat
+and out he goes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gave a troubled laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+think that&#8217;s simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl
+enjoys that sort of thing? Oh, what&#8217;s the use of talking about
+it? It&#8217;s horrible, and no amount of arguing will make it
+anything else.  Do let&#8217;s change the subject.  How did you like
+Chicago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+all right.  Rather a grubby sort of place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So
+I&#8217;ve always heard.  But you ought not to mind that, being a
+Londoner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I didn&#8217;t mind it.  As a matter of fact, I had rather a good
+time.  Saw one or two shows, you know.  Got in on my face as your
+brother&#8217;s representative, which was all to the good.  By the
+way, it&#8217;s rummy how you run into people when you move about,
+isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
+shut.  Did you meet somebody you knew?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Chap
+I hadn&#8217;t seen for years.  Was at school with him, as a matter
+of fact.  Fellow named Foster.  But I expect you know him, too, don&#8217;t
+you? By name, at any rate.  He wrote your brother&#8217;s show.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+heart jumped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh!
+Did you meet Gerald&#8212;Foster?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ran
+into him one night at the theatre.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+you were really at school with him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ He was in the footer team with me my last year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Was
+he a scrum-half, too?&#8221; asked Sally, dimpling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+looked shocked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t have two scrum-halves in a team,&#8221; he said, pained
+at this ignorance on a vital matter.  &#8220;The scrum-half is the
+half who works the scrum and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+you told me that at Roville.  What was Gerald&#8212;Mr. Foster then?
+A six and seven-eighths, or something?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+was a wing-three,&#8221; said Ginger with a gravity befitting his
+theme.  &#8220;Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve.  But he
+would <i>not</i> learn to give the reverse pass inside to the
+centre.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ghastly!&#8221;
+said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If,&#8221;
+said Ginger earnestly, &#8220;a wing&#8217;s bottled up by his wing
+and the back, the only thing he <i>can</i> do, if he doesn&#8217;t
+want to be bundled into touch, is to give the reverse pass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;If I&#8217;ve thought that once,
+I&#8217;ve thought it a hundred times.  How nice it must have been
+for you meeting again.  I suppose you had all sorts of things to talk
+about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+shook his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+such a frightful lot.  We were never very thick.  You see, this chap
+Foster was by way of being a bit of a worm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+tick,&#8221; explained Ginger.  &#8220;A rotter.  He was pretty
+generally barred at school.  Personally, I never had any use for him
+at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stiffened.  She had liked Ginger up to that moment, and later on, no
+doubt, she would resume her liking for him: but in the immediate
+moment which followed these words she found herself regarding him
+with stormy hostility.  How dare he sit there saying things like that
+about Gerald?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger,
+who was lighting a cigarette without a care in the world, proceeded
+to develop his theme.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+a rummy thing about school.  Generally, if a fellow&#8217;s good at
+games&#8212;in the cricket team or the footer team and so forth&#8212;he
+can hardly help being fairly popular.  But this blighter Foster
+somehow&#8212;nobody seemed very keen on him.  Of course, he had a
+few of his own pals, but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss.
+It may have been because he was a bit sidey... had rather an edge on
+him, you know... Personally, the reason I barred him was because he
+wasn&#8217;t straight.  You didn&#8217;t notice it if you weren&#8217;t
+thrown a goodish bit with him, of course, but he and I were in the
+same house, and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+managed to control her voice, though it shook a little.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+ought to tell you,&#8221; she said, and her tone would have warned
+him had he been less occupied, &#8220;that Mr. Foster is a great
+friend of mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+Ginger was intent on the lighting of his cigarette, a delicate
+operation with the breeze blowing in through the open window.  His
+head was bent, and he had formed his hands into a protective
+framework which half hid his face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you take my tip,&#8221; he mumbled, &#8220;you&#8217;ll drop him.
+He&#8217;s a wrong &#8216;un.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+spoke with the absent-minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sally could
+keep the conflagration under no longer.  She was aflame from head to
+foot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+may interest you to know,&#8221; she said, shooting the words out
+like bullets from between clenched teeth, &#8220;that Gerald Foster
+is the man I am engaged to marry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+head came slowly up from his cupped hands.  Amazement was in his
+eyes, and a sort of horror.  The cigarette hung limply from his
+mouth.  He did not speak, but sat looking at her, dazed.  Then the
+match burnt his fingers, and he dropped it with a start.  The sharp
+sting of it seemed to wake him.  He blinked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+joking,&#8221; he said, feebly.  There was a note of wistfulness in
+his voice.  &#8220;It isn&#8217;t true?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+kicked the leg of her chair irritably.  She read insolent disapproval
+into the words.  He was daring to criticize...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course it&#8217;s true...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But...&#8221;
+A look of hopeless misery came into Ginger&#8217;s pleasant face.  He
+hesitated.  Then, with the air of a man bracing himself to a
+dreadful, but unavoidable, ordeal, he went on.  He spoke gruffly, and
+his eyes, which had been fixed on Sally&#8217;s, wandered down to the
+match on the carpet.  It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a
+foot on it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Foster&#8217;s
+married,&#8221; he said shortly.  &#8220;He was married the day
+before I left Chicago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+seemed to Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over
+the room like a living presence, even the noises in the street had
+ceased, as though what he had said had been a spell cutting Sally and
+himself off from the outer world.  Only the little clock on the
+mantelpiece ticked&#8212;ticked&#8212;ticked, like a heart beating
+fast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+stared straight before him, conscious of a strange rigidity.  He felt
+incapable of movement, as he had sometimes felt in nightmares; and
+not for all the wealth of America could he have raised his eyes just
+then to Sally&#8217;s face.  He could see her hands.  They had
+tightened on the arm of the chair.  The knuckles were white.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was blaming himself bitterly now for his oafish clumsiness in
+blurting out the news so abruptly.  And yet, curiously, in his
+remorse there was something of elation.  Never before had he felt so
+near to her.  It was as though a barrier that had been between them
+had fallen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something
+moved... It was Sally&#8217;s hand, slowly relaxing.  The fingers
+loosened their grip, tightened again, then, as if reluctantly relaxed
+once more.  The blood flowed back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Your
+cigarette&#8217;s out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+started violently.  Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
+had struck him like a blow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+thanks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+forced himself to light another match.  It sputtered noisily in the
+stillness.  He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+drew at his cigarette mechanically.  For an instant he had seen
+Sally&#8217;s face, white-cheeked and bright-eyed, the chin tilted
+like a flag flying over a stricken field.  His mood changed.  All his
+emotions had crystallized into a dull, futile rage, a helpless fury
+directed at a man a thousand miles away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+spoke again.  Her voice sounded small and far off, an odd flatness in
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Married?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+threw his cigarette out of the window.  He was shocked to find that
+he was smoking.  Nothing could have been farther from his intention
+than to smoke.  He nodded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Whom
+has he married?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+coughed.  Something was sticking in his throat, and speech was
+difficult.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+girl called Doland.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Elsa Doland?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Elsa
+Doland.&#8221; Sally drummed with her fingers on the arm of the
+chair.  &#8220;Oh, Elsa Doland?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was silence again.  The little clock ticked fussily on the
+mantelpiece.  Out in the street automobile horns were blowing.  From
+somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated
+train.  Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious,
+unreal sense of novelty.  She felt as though she had been projected
+into another world where everything was new and strange and
+horrible&#8212;everything except Ginger.  About him, in the mere
+sight of him, there was something known and heartening.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly,
+she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was behaving
+extremely well.  She seemed to have been taken out of herself and to
+be regarding the scene from outside, regarding it coolly and
+critically; and it was plain to her that Ginger, in this upheaval of
+all things, was bearing himself perfectly.  He had attempted no banal
+words of sympathy.  He had said nothing and he was not looking at
+her.  And Sally felt that sympathy just now would be torture, and
+that she could not have borne to be looked at.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+was wonderful.  In that curious, detached spirit that had come upon
+her, she examined him impartially, and gratitude welled up from the
+very depths of her.  There he sat, saying nothing and doing nothing,
+as if he knew that all she needed, the only thing that could keep her
+sane in this world of nightmare, was the sight of that dear, flaming
+head of his that made her feel that the world had not slipped away
+from her altogether.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+did not move.  The room had grown almost dark now.  A spear of light
+from a street lamp shone in through the window.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+got up abruptly.  Slowly, gradually, inch by inch, the great
+suffocating cloud which had been crushing her had lifted.  She felt
+alive again.  Her black hour had gone, and she was back in the world
+of living things once more.  She was afire with a fierce, tearing
+pain that tormented her almost beyond endurance, but dimly she sensed
+the fact that she had passed through something that was worse than
+pain, and, with Ginger&#8217;s stolid presence to aid her, had passed
+triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go
+and have dinner, Ginger,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;You must be
+starving.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+came to life like a courtier in the palace of the Sleeping Beauty.
+He shook himself, and rose stiffly from his chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+no,&#8221; he said.  &#8220;Not a bit, really.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+switched on the light and set him blinking.  She could bear to be
+looked at now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go
+and dine,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Dine lavishly and luxuriously.
+You&#8217;ve certainly earned...&#8221; Her voice faltered for a
+moment.  She held out her hand.  &#8220;Ginger,&#8221; she said
+shakily, &#8220;I... Ginger, you&#8217;re a pal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When
+he had gone.  Sally sat down and began to cry.  Then she dried her
+eyes in a business-like manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There,
+Miss Nicholas!&#8221; she said.  &#8220;You couldn&#8217;t have done
+that an hour ago... We will now boil you an egg for your dinner and
+see how that suits you!&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SALLY RUNS AWAY</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If
+Ginger Kemp had been asked to enumerate his good qualities, it is not
+probable that he would have drawn up a very lengthy list.  He might
+have started by claiming for himself the virtue of meaning well, but
+after that he would have had to chew the pencil in prolonged
+meditation.  And, even if he could eventually have added one or two
+further items to the catalogue, tact and delicacy of feeling would
+not have been among them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet,
+by staying away from Sally during the next few days he showed
+considerable delicacy.  It was not easy to stay away from her, but he
+forced himself to do so.  He argued from his own tastes, and was
+strongly of opinion that in times of travail, solitude was what the
+sufferer most desired.  In his time he, too, had had what he would
+have described as nasty jars, and on these occasions all he had asked
+was to be allowed to sit and think things over and fight his battle
+out by himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By
+Saturday, however, he had come to the conclusion that some form of
+action might now be taken.  Saturday was rather a good day for
+picking up the threads again.  He had not to go to the office, and,
+what was still more to the point, he had just drawn his week&#8217;s
+salary.  Mrs. Meecher had deftly taken a certain amount of this off
+him, but enough remained to enable him to attempt consolation on a
+fairly princely scale.  There presented itself to him as a judicious
+move the idea of hiring a car and taking Sally out to dinner at one
+of the road-houses he had heard about up the Boston Post Road.  He
+examined the scheme.  The more he looked at it, the better it seemed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was helped to this decision by the extraordinary perfection of the
+weather.  The weather of late had been a revelation to Ginger.  It
+was his first experience of America&#8217;s Indian Summer, and it had
+quite overcome him.  As he stood on the roof of Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s
+establishment on the Saturday morning, thrilled by the velvet wonder
+of the sunshine, it seemed to him that the only possible way of
+passing such a day was to take Sally for a ride in an open car.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+Maison Meecher was a lofty building on one of the side-streets at the
+lower end of the avenue.  From its roof, after you had worked your
+way through the groves of washing which hung limply from the
+clothes-line, you could see many things of interest.  To the left lay
+Washington Square, full of somnolent Italians and roller-skating
+children; to the right was a spectacle which never failed to intrigue
+Ginger, the high smoke-stacks of a Cunard liner moving slowly down
+the river, sticking up over the house-tops as if the boat was
+travelling down Ninth Avenue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day
+there were four of these funnels, causing Ginger to deduce the
+<i>Mauritania.  </i>As the boat on which he had come over from
+England, the <i>Mauritania</i> had a sentimental interest for him.
+He stood watching her stately progress till the higher buildings
+farther down the town shut her from his sight; then picked his way
+through the washing and went down to his room to get his hat.  A
+quarter of an hour later he was in the hall-way of Sally&#8217;s
+apartment house, gazing with ill-concealed disgust at the serge-clad
+back of his cousin Mr. Carmyle, who was engaged in conversation with
+a gentleman in overalls.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No
+care-free prospector, singing his way through the Mojave Desert and
+suddenly finding himself confronted by a rattlesnake, could have
+experienced so abrupt a change of mood as did Ginger at this
+revolting spectacle.  Even in their native Piccadilly it had been
+unpleasant to run into Mr. Carmyle.  To find him here now was nothing
+short of nauseating.  Only one thing could have brought him to this
+place.  Obviously, he must have come to see Sally; and with a sudden
+sinking of the heart Ginger remembered the shiny, expensive
+automobile which he had seen waiting at the door.  He, it was clear,
+was not the only person to whom the idea had occurred of taking Sally
+for a drive on this golden day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was still standing there when Mr. Carmyle swung round with a frown on
+his dark face which seemed to say that he had not found the janitor&#8217;s
+conversation entertaining.  The sight of Ginger plainly did nothing
+to lighten his gloom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo!&#8221;
+he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo!&#8221;
+said Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncomfortable
+silence followed these civilities.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Have
+you come to see Miss Nicholas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+isn&#8217;t here,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle, and the fact that he had
+found someone to share the bad news, seemed to cheer him a little.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No.
+ Apparently...&#8221; Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s scowl betrayed that
+resentment which a well-balanced man cannot but feel at the
+unreasonableness of others.  &#8220;... Apparently, for some
+extraordinary reason, she has taken it into her head to dash over to
+England.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+tottered.  The unexpectedness of the blow was crushing.  He followed
+his cousin out into the sunshine in a sort of dream.  Bruce Carmyle
+was addressing the driver of the expensive automobile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+find I shall not want the car.  You can take it back to the garage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+chauffeur, a moody man, opened one half-closed eye and spat
+cautiously.  It was the way Rockefeller would have spat when
+approaching the crisis of some delicate financial negotiation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ll
+have to pay just the same,&#8221; he observed, opening his other eye
+to lend emphasis to the words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I shall pay,&#8221; snapped Mr. Carmyle, irritably.  &#8220;How
+much is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Money
+passed.  The car rolled off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Gone
+to England?&#8221; said Ginger, dizzily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+gone to England.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+the devil do I know why?&#8221; Bruce Carmyle would have found his
+best friend trying at this moment.  Gaping Ginger gave him almost a
+physical pain.  &#8220;All I know is what the janitor told me, that
+she sailed on the <i>Mauretania</i> this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+tragic irony of this overcame Ginger.  That he should have stood on
+the roof, calmly watching the boat down the river...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+nodded absently to Mr. Carmyle and walked off.  He had no further
+remarks to make.  The warmth had gone out of the sunshine and all
+interest had departed from his life.  He felt dull, listless, at a
+loose end.  Not even the thought that his cousin, a careful man with
+his money, had had to pay a day&#8217;s hire for a car which he could
+not use brought him any balm.  He loafed aimlessly about the streets.
+ He wandered in the Park and out again.  The Park bored him.  The
+streets bored him.  The whole city bored him.  A city without Sally
+in it was a drab, futile city, and nothing that the sun could do to
+brighten it could make it otherwise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Night
+came at last, and with it a letter.  It was the first even passably
+pleasant thing that had happened to Ginger in the whole of this
+dreary and unprofitable day: for the envelope bore the crest of the
+good ship <i>Mauretania.  </i>He snatched it covetously from the
+letter-rack, and carried it upstairs to his room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Very
+few of the rooms at Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s boarding-house struck any
+note of luxury.  Mrs. Meecher was not one of your fashionable
+interior decorators.  She considered that when she had added a Morris
+chair to the essentials which make up a bedroom, she had gone as far
+in the direction of pomp as any guest at seven-and-a-half per could
+expect her to go.  As a rule, the severity of his surroundings
+afflicted Ginger with a touch of gloom when he went to bed; but
+to-night&#8212;such is the magic of a letter from the right person&#8212;he
+was uplifted and almost gay.  There are moments when even illuminated
+texts over the wash-stand cannot wholly quell us.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was nothing of haste and much of ceremony in Ginger&#8217;s method of
+approaching the perusal of his correspondence.  He bore himself after
+the manner of a small boy in the presence of unexpected ice-cream,
+gloating for awhile before embarking on the treat, anxious to make it
+last out.  His first move was to feel in the breast-pocket of his
+coat and produce the photograph of Sally which he had feloniously
+removed from her apartment.  At this he looked long and earnestly
+before propping it up within easy reach against his basin, to be
+handy, if required, for purposes of reference.  He then took off his
+coat, collar, and shoes, filled and lit a pipe, placed pouch and
+matches on the arm of the Morris chair, and drew that chair up so
+that he could sit with his feet on the bed.  Having manoeuvred
+himself into a position of ease, he lit his pipe again and took up
+the letter.  He looked at the crest, the handwriting of the address,
+and the postmark.  He weighed it in his hand.  It was a bulky letter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+took Sally&#8217;s photograph from the wash-stand and scrutinized it
+once more.  Then he lit his pipe again, and, finally, wriggling
+himself into the depths of the chair, opened the envelope.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Ginger,
+dear.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Having
+read so far, Ginger found it necessary to take up the photograph and
+study it with an even greater intentness than before.  He gazed at it
+for many minutes, then laid it down and lit his pipe again.  Then he
+went on with the letter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,
+dear&#8212;I&#8217;m afraid this address is going to give you rather
+a shock, and I&#8217;m feeling very guilty.  I&#8217;m running away,
+and I haven&#8217;t even stopped to say good-bye.  I can&#8217;t help
+it.  I know it&#8217;s weak and cowardly, but I simply can&#8217;t
+help it.  I stood it for a day or two, and then I saw that it was no
+good.  (Thank you for leaving me alone and not coming round to see
+me.  Nobody else but you would have done that.  But then, nobody ever
+has been or ever could be so understanding as you.)&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+found himself compelled at this point to look at the photograph
+again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+was too much in New York to remind me.  That&#8217;s the worst of
+being happy in a place.  When things go wrong you find there are too
+many ghosts about.  I just couldn&#8217;t stand it.  I tried, but I
+couldn&#8217;t.  I&#8217;m going away to get cured&#8212;if I can.
+Mr. Faucitt is over in England, and when I went down to Mrs. Meecher
+for my letters, I found one from him.  His brother is dead, you know,
+and he has inherited, of all things, a fashionable dress-making place
+in Regent Street.  His brother was Laurette et Cie.  I suppose he
+will sell the business later on, but, just at present, the poor old
+dear is apparently quite bewildered and that doesn&#8217;t seem to
+have occurred to him.  He kept saying in his letter how much he
+wished I was with him, to help him, and I was tempted and ran.
+Anything to get away from the ghosts and have something to do.  I
+don&#8217;t suppose I shall feel much better in England, but, at
+least, every street corner won&#8217;t have associations.  Don&#8217;t
+ever be happy anywhere, Ginger.  It&#8217;s too big a risk, much too
+big a risk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+was a letter from Elsa Doland, too.  Bubbling over with affection.
+We had always been tremendous friends.  Of course, she never knew
+anything about my being engaged to Gerald.  I lent Fillmore the money
+to buy that piece, which gave Elsa her first big chance, and so she&#8217;s
+very grateful.  She says, if ever she gets the opportunity of doing
+me a good turn... Aren&#8217;t things muddled?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+there was a letter from Gerald.  I was expecting one, of course,
+but... what would you have done, Ginger? Would you have read it? I
+sat with it in front of me for an hour, I should think, just looking
+at the envelope, and then... You see, what was the use? I could guess
+exactly the sort of thing that would be in it, and reading it would
+only have hurt a lot more.  The thing was done, so why bother about
+explanations? What good are explanations, anyway? They don&#8217;t
+help.  They don&#8217;t do anything... I burned it, Ginger.  The last
+letter I shall ever get from him.  I made a bonfire on the bathroom
+floor, and it smouldered and went brown, and then flared a little,
+and every now and then I lit another match and kept it burning, and
+at last it was just black ashes and a stain on the tiles.  Just a
+mess!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,
+burn this letter, too.  I&#8217;m pouring out all the poison to you,
+hoping it will make me feel better.  You don&#8217;t mind, do you?
+But I know you don&#8217;t.  If ever anybody had a real pal...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+a dreadful thing, fascination, Ginger.  It grips you and you are
+helpless.  One can be so sensible and reasonable about other people&#8217;s
+love affairs.  When I was working at the dance place I told you about
+there was a girl who fell in love with the most awful little beast.
+He had a mean mouth and shiny black hair brushed straight back, and
+anybody would have seen what he was.  But this girl wouldn&#8217;t
+listen to a word.  I talked to her by the hour.  It makes me smile
+now when I think how sensible and level-headed I was.  But she
+wouldn&#8217;t listen.  In some mysterious way this was the man she
+wanted, and, of course, everything happened that one knew would
+happen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+one could manage one&#8217;s own life as well as one can manage other
+people&#8217;s! If all this wretched thing of mine had happened to
+some other girl, how beautifully I could have proved that it was the
+best thing that could have happened, and that a man who could behave
+as Gerald has done wasn&#8217;t worth worrying about.  I can just
+hear myself.  But, you see, whatever he has done, Gerald is still
+Gerald and Sally is still Sally and, however much I argue, I can&#8217;t
+get away from that.  All I can do is to come howling to my redheaded
+pal, when I know just as well as he does that a girl of any spirit
+would be dignified and keep her troubles to herself and be much too
+proud to let anyone know that she was hurt.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Proud!
+That&#8217;s the real trouble, Ginger.  My pride has been battered
+and chopped up and broken into as many pieces as you broke Mr.
+Scrymgeour&#8217;s stick! What pitiful creatures we are.  Girls, I
+mean.  At least, I suppose a good many girls are like me.  If Gerald
+had died and I had lost him that way, I know quite well I shouldn&#8217;t
+be feeling as I do now.  I should have been broken-hearted, but it
+wouldn&#8217;t have been the same.  It&#8217;s my pride that is hurt.
+ I have always been a bossy, cocksure little creature, swaggering
+about the world like an English sparrow; and now I&#8217;m paying for
+it! Oh, Ginger, I&#8217;m paying for it! I wonder if running away is
+going to do me any good at all.  Perhaps, if Mr. Faucitt has some
+real hard work for me to do...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course, I know exactly how all this has come about.  Elsa&#8217;s
+pretty and attractive.  But the point is that she is a success, and
+as a success she appeals to Gerald&#8217;s weakest side.  He worships
+success.  She is going to have a marvellous career, and she can help
+Gerald on in his.  He can write plays for her to star in.  What have
+I to offer against that? Yes, I know it&#8217;s grovelling and
+contemptible of me to say that, Ginger.  I ought to be above it,
+oughtn&#8217;t I&#8212;talking as if I were competing for some
+prize... But I haven&#8217;t any pride left.  Oh, well!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There!
+I&#8217;ve poured it all out and I really do feel a little better
+just for the moment.  It won&#8217;t last, of course, but even a
+minute is something.  Ginger, dear, I shan&#8217;t see you for ever
+so long, even if we ever do meet again, but you&#8217;ll try to
+remember that I&#8217;m thinking of you a whole lot, won&#8217;t you?
+I feel responsible for you.  You&#8217;re my baby.  You&#8217;ve got
+started now and you&#8217;ve only to stick to it.  Please, please,
+<i>please</i> don&#8217;t &#8216;make a hash of it&#8217;! Good-bye.
+I never did find that photograph of me that we were looking for that
+afternoon in the apartment, or I would send it to you.  Then you
+could have kept it on your mantelpiece, and whenever you felt
+inclined to make a hash of anything I would have caught your eye
+sternly and you would have pulled up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good-bye,
+Ginger.  I shall have to stop now.  The mail is just closing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Always
+your pal, wherever I am.-&#8212;sally.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+laid the letter down, and a little sound escaped him that was half a
+sigh, half an oath.  He was wondering whether even now some desirable
+end might not be achieved by going to Chicago and breaking Gerald
+Foster&#8217;s neck.  Abandoning this scheme as impracticable, and
+not being able to think of anything else to do he re-lit his pipe and
+started to read the letter again.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SOME LETTERS FOR GINGER</h3>
+
+<p class="right">
+Laurette et Cie,<br>
+Regent Street,<br>
+London, W.,<br>
+England.<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>January
+21st.</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear
+Ginger,&#8212;I&#8217;m feeling better.  As it&#8217;s three months
+since I last wrote to you, no doubt you will say to yourself that I
+would be a poor, weak-minded creature if I wasn&#8217;t.  I suppose
+one ought to be able to get over anything in three months.
+Unfortunately, I&#8217;m afraid I haven&#8217;t quite succeeded in
+doing that, but at least I have managed to get my troubles stowed
+away in the cellar, and I&#8217;m not dragging them out and looking
+at them all the time.  That&#8217;s something, isn&#8217;t it?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I
+ought to give you all my impressions of London, I suppose; but I&#8217;ve
+grown so used to the place that I don&#8217;t think I have any now.
+I seem to have been here years and years.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">You
+will see by the address that Mr. Faucitt has not yet sold his
+inheritance.  He expects to do so very soon, he tells me&#8212;there
+is a rich-looking man with whiskers and a keen eye whom he is always
+lunching with, and I think big deals are in progress.  Poor dear! he
+is crazy to get away into the country and settle down and grow ducks
+and things.  London has disappointed him.  It is not the place it
+used to be.  Until quite lately, when he grew resigned, he used to
+wander about in a disconsolate sort of way, trying to locate the
+landmarks of his youth.  (He has not been in England for nearly
+thirty years!) The trouble is, it seems, that about once in every
+thirty years a sort of craze for change comes over London, and they
+paint a shop-front red instead of blue, and that upsets the returned
+exile dreadfully.  Mr. Faucitt feels like Rip Van Winkle.  His first
+shock was when he found that the Empire was a theatre now instead of
+a music-hall.  Then he was told that another music-hall, the Tivoli,
+had been pulled down altogether.  And when on top of that he went to
+look at the baker&#8217;s shop in Rupert Street, over which he had
+lodgings in the eighties, and discovered that it had been turned into
+a dressmaker&#8217;s, he grew very melancholy, and only cheered up a
+little when a lovely magenta fog came on and showed him that some
+things were still going along as in the good old days.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I
+am kept quite busy at Laurette et Cie., thank goodness.  (Not being a
+French scholar like you&#8212;do you remember Jules?&#8212;I thought
+at first that Cie was the name of the junior partner, and looked
+forward to meeting him.  &#8220;Miss Nicholas, shake hands with Mr.
+Cie, one of your greatest admirers.&#8221;) I hold down the female
+equivalent of your job at the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical
+Enterprises Ltd.&#8212;that is to say, I&#8217;m a sort of right-hand
+woman.  I hang around and sidle up to the customers when they come
+in, and say, &#8220;Chawming weather, moddom!&#8221; (which is
+usually a black lie) and pass them on to the staff, who do the actual
+work.  I shouldn&#8217;t mind going on like this for the next few
+years, but Mr. Faucitt is determined to sell.  I don&#8217;t know if
+you are like that, but every other Englishman I&#8217;ve ever met
+seems to have an ambition to own a house and lot in Loamshire or
+Hants or Salop or somewhere.  Their one object in life is to make
+some money and &#8220;buy back the old place&#8221;&#8212;which was
+sold, of course, at the end of act one to pay the heir&#8217;s
+gambling debts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Faucitt, when he was a small boy, used to live in a little village in
+Gloucestershire, near a place called Cirencester&#8212;at least, it
+isn&#8217;t: it&#8217;s called Cissister, which I bet you didn&#8217;t
+know&#8212;and after forgetting about it for fifty years, he has
+suddenly been bitten by the desire to end his days there, surrounded
+by pigs and chickens.  He took me down to see the place the other
+day.  Oh, Ginger, this English country! Why any of you ever live in
+towns I can&#8217;t think.  Old, old grey stone houses with yellow
+haystacks and lovely squelchy muddy lanes and great fat trees and
+blue hills in the distance.  The peace of it! If ever I sell my soul,
+I shall insist on the devil giving me at least forty years in some
+English country place in exchange.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Perhaps
+you will think from all this that I am too much occupied to remember
+your existence.  Just to show how interested I am in you, let me tell
+you that, when I was reading the paper a week ago, I happened to see
+the headline, &#8220;International Match.&#8221; It didn&#8217;t seem
+to mean anything at first, and then I suddenly recollected.  This was
+the thing you had once been a snip for! So I went down to a place
+called Twickenham, where this football game was to be, to see the
+sort of thing you used to do before I took charge of you and made you
+a respectable right-hand man.  There was an enormous crowd there, and
+I was nearly squeezed to death, but I bore it for your sake.  I found
+out that the English team were the ones wearing white shirts, and
+that the ones in red were the Welsh.  I said to the man next to me,
+after he had finished yelling himself black in the face, &#8220;Could
+you kindly inform me which is the English scrum-half?&#8221; And just
+at that moment the players came quite near where I was, and about a
+dozen assassins in red hurled themselves violently on top of a
+meek-looking little fellow who had just fallen on the ball.  Ginger,
+you are well out of it! <i>That</i> was the scrum-half, and I
+gathered that that sort of thing was a mere commonplace in his
+existence.  Stopping a rush, it is called, and he is expected to do
+it all the time.  The idea of you ever going in for such brutal
+sports! You thank your stars that you are safe on your little stool
+in Fillmore&#8217;s outer office, and that, if anybody jumps on top
+of you now, you can call a cop.  Do you mean to say you really used
+to do these daredevil feats? You must have hidden depths in you which
+I have never suspected.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As
+I was taking a ride down Piccadilly the other day on top of a bus, I
+saw somebody walking along who seemed familiar.  It was Mr. Carmyle.
+So he&#8217;s back in England again.  He didn&#8217;t see me, thank
+goodness.  I don&#8217;t want to meet anybody just at present who
+reminds me of New York.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thanks
+for telling me all the news, but please don&#8217;t do it again.  It
+makes me remember, and I don&#8217;t want to.  It&#8217;s this way,
+Ginger.  Let me write to you, because it really does relieve me, but
+don&#8217;t answer my letters.  Do you mind? I&#8217;m sure you&#8217;ll
+understand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So
+Fillmore and Gladys Winch are married! From what I have seen of her,
+it&#8217;s the best thing that has ever happened to Brother F.  She
+is a splendid girl.  I must write to him...
+</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+Laurette et Cie.<br>
+London</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>March 12th.</i>	.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear
+Ginger,&#8212;I saw in a Sunday paper last week that &#8220;The
+Primrose Way&#8221; had been produced in New York, and was a great
+success.  Well, I&#8217;m very glad.  But I don&#8217;t think the
+papers ought to print things like that.  It&#8217;s unsettling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Next
+day, I did one of those funny things you do when you&#8217;re feeling
+blue and lonely and a long way away from everybody.  I called at your
+club and asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk
+said in a fatherly way that you hadn&#8217;t been in lately, and he
+rather fancied you were out of town, but would I take a seat while he
+inquired.  He then summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the
+child skipped off chanting, &#8220;Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!&#8221;
+in a shrill treble.  It gave me such an odd feeling to hear your name
+echoing in the distance.  I felt so ashamed for giving them all that
+trouble; and when the boy came back I slipped twopence into his palm,
+which I suppose was against all the rules, though he seemed to like
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I am
+rather at a loose end&#8230;</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">Monk&#8217;s Crofton,<br>
+<i>(whatever that means)</i><br>
+Much Middleford,<br>
+Salop,<br>
+<i>(slang for Shropshire)</i><br>
+England.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>April 18th.</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear
+Ginger,&#8212;What&#8217;s the use? What <i>is</i> the use? I do all
+I can to get right away from New York, and New York comes after me
+and tracks me down in my hiding-place.  A week or so ago, as I was
+walking down the Strand in an aimless sort of way, out there came
+right on top of me&#8212;who do you think? Fillmore, arm in arm with
+Mr. Carmyle! I couldn&#8217;t dodge.  In the first place, Mr. Carmyle
+had seen me; in the second place, it is a day&#8217;s journey to
+dodge poor dear Fillmore now.  I blushed for him.  Ginger! Right
+there in the Strand I blushed for him.  In my worst dreams I had
+never pictured him so enormous.  Upon what meat doth this our
+Fillmore feed that he is grown so great? Poor Gladys! When she looks
+at him she must feel like a bigamist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Apparently
+Fillmore is still full of big schemes, for he talked airily about
+buying all sorts of English plays.  He has come over, as I suppose
+you know, to arrange about putting on &#8220;The Primrose Way&#8221;
+over here.  He is staying at the Savoy, and they took me off there to
+lunch, whooping joyfully as over a strayed lamb.  It was the worst
+thing that could possibly have happened to me.  Fillmore talked
+Broadway without a pause, till by the time he had worked his way past
+the French pastry and was lolling back, breathing a little
+stertorously, waiting for the coffee and liqueurs, he had got me so
+homesick that, if it hadn&#8217;t been that I didn&#8217;t want to
+make a public exhibition of myself, I should have broken down and
+howled.  It was crazy of me ever to go near the Savoy.  Of course,
+it&#8217;s simply an annex to Broadway.  There were Americans at
+every table as far as the eye could reach.  I might just as well have
+been at the Astor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Well,
+if Fate insists in bringing New York to England for my special
+discomfiture, I suppose I have got to put up with it.  I just let
+events take their course, and I have been drifting ever since.  Two
+days ago I drifted here.  Mr. Carmyle invited Fillmore&#8212;he seems
+to love Fillmore&#8212;and me to Monk&#8217;s Crofton, and I hadn&#8217;t
+even the shadow of an excuse for refusing.  So I came, and I am now
+sitting writing to you in an enormous bedroom with an open fire and
+armchairs and every other sort of luxury.  Fillmore is out golfing.
+He sails for New York on Saturday on the <i>Mauretania.  </i>I am
+horrified to hear from him that, in addition to all his other big
+schemes, he is now promoting a fight for the light-weight
+championship in Jersey City, and guaranteeing enormous sums to both
+boxers.  It&#8217;s no good arguing with him.  If you do, he simply
+quotes figures to show the fortunes other people have made out of
+these things.  Besides, it&#8217;s too late now, anyway.  As far as I
+can make out, the fight is going to take place in another week or
+two.  All the same, it makes my flesh creep.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Well,
+it&#8217;s no use worrying, I suppose.  Let&#8217;s change the
+subject.  Do you know Monk&#8217;s Crofton? Probably you don&#8217;t,
+as I seem to remember hearing something said about it being a recent
+purchase.  Mr. Carmyle bought it from some lord or other who had been
+losing money on the Stock Exchange.  I hope you haven&#8217;t seen
+it, anyway, because I want to describe it at great length.  I want to
+pour out my soul about it.  Ginger, what has England ever done to
+deserve such paradises? I thought, in my ignorance, that Mr.
+Faucitt&#8217;s Cissister place was pretty good, but it doesn&#8217;t
+even begin.  It can&#8217;t compete.  Of course, his is just an
+ordinary country house, and this is a Seat.  Monk&#8217;s Crofton is
+the sort of place they used to write about in the English novels.
+<i>You</i> know.  &#8220;The sunset was falling on the walls of G&#8212;&#8212;
+Castle, in B&#8212;&#8212;shire, hard by the picturesque village of
+H&#8212;&#8212;, and not a stone&#8217;s throw from the hamlet of
+J&#8212;&#8212;.&#8221; I can imagine Tennyson&#8217;s Maud living
+here.  It is one of the stately homes of England; how beautiful they
+stand, and I&#8217;m crazy about it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">You
+motor up from the station, and after you have gone about three miles,
+you turn in at a big iron gate with stone posts on each side with
+stone beasts on them.  Close by the gate is the cutest little house
+with an old man inside it who pops out and touches his hat.  This is
+only the lodge, really, but you think you have arrived; so you get
+all ready to jump out, and then the car goes rolling on for another
+fifty miles or so through beech woods full of rabbits and open
+meadows with deer in them.  Finally, just as you think you are going
+on for ever, you whizz round a corner, and there&#8217;s the house.
+You don&#8217;t get a glimpse of it till then, because the trees are
+too thick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It&#8217;s
+very large, and sort of low and square, with a kind of tower at one
+side and the most fascinating upper porch sort of thing with
+battlements.  I suppose in the old days you used to stand on this and
+drop molten lead on visitors&#8217; heads.  Wonderful lawns all
+round, and shrubberies and a lake that you can just see where the
+ground dips beyond the fields.  Of course it&#8217;s too early yet
+for them to be out, but to the left of the house there&#8217;s a
+place where there will be about a million roses when June comes
+round, and all along the side of the rose-garden is a high wall of
+old red brick which shuts off the kitchen garden.  I went exploring
+there this morning.  It&#8217;s an enormous place, with hot-houses
+and things, and there&#8217;s the cunningest farm at one end with a
+stable yard full of puppies that just tear the heart out of you,
+they&#8217;re so sweet.  And a big, sleepy cat, which sits and blinks
+in the sun and lets the puppies run all over her.  And there&#8217;s
+a lovely stillness, and you can hear everything growing.  And
+thrushes and blackbirds... Oh, Ginger, it&#8217;s heavenly!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+there&#8217;s a catch.  It&#8217;s a case of &#8220;Where every
+prospect pleases and only man is vile.&#8221; At least, not exactly
+vile, I suppose, but terribly stodgy.  I can see now why you couldn&#8217;t
+hit it off with the Family.  Because I&#8217;ve seen &#8216;em all!
+They&#8217;re here! Yes, Uncle Donald and all of them.  Is it a habit
+of your family to collect in gangs, or have I just happened to
+stumble into an accidental Old Home Week? When I came down to dinner
+the first evening, the drawing-room was full to bursting point&#8212;not
+simply because Fillmore was there, but because there were uncles and
+aunts all over the place.  I felt like a small lion in a den of
+Daniels.  I know exactly now what you mean about the Family.  They
+<i>look</i> at you! Of course, it&#8217;s all right for me, because I
+am snowy white clear through, but I can just imagine what it must
+have been like for you with your permanently guilty conscience.  You
+must have had an awful time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By
+the way, it&#8217;s going to be a delicate business getting this
+letter through to you&#8212;rather like carrying the despatches
+through the enemy&#8217;s lines in a Civil War play.  You&#8217;re
+supposed to leave letters on the table in the hall, and someone
+collects them in the afternoon and takes them down to the village on
+a bicycle.  But, if I do that some aunt or uncle is bound to see it,
+and I shall be an object of loathing, for it is no light matter, my
+lad, to be caught having correspondence with a human Jimpson weed
+like you.  It would blast me socially.  At least, so I gather from
+the way they behaved when your name came up at dinner last night.
+Somebody mentioned you, and the most awful roasting party broke
+loose.  Uncle Donald acting as cheer-leader.  I said feebly that I
+had met you and had found you part human, and there was an awful
+silence till they all started at the same time to show me where I was
+wrong, and how cruelly my girlish inexperience had deceived me.  A
+young and innocent half-portion like me, it appears, is absolutely
+incapable of suspecting the true infamy of the dregs of society.  You
+aren&#8217;t fit to speak to the likes of me, being at the kindest
+estimate little more than a blot on the human race.  I tell you this
+in case you may imagine you&#8217;re popular with the Family.  You&#8217;re
+not.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So
+I shall have to exercise a good deal of snaky craft in smuggling this
+letter through.  I&#8217;ll take it down to the village myself if I
+can sneak away.  But it&#8217;s going to be pretty difficult, because
+for some reason I seem to be a centre of attraction.  Except when I
+take refuge in my room, hardly a moment passes without an aunt or an
+uncle popping out and having a cosy talk with me.  It sometimes seems
+as though they were weighing me in the balance.  Well, let &#8216;em
+weigh!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Time
+to dress for dinner now.  Good-bye.</p>
+
+<p class="right">Yours
+in the balance,</p>
+
+<p class="right">sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">P.S.&#8212;You
+were perfectly right about your Uncle Donald&#8217;s moustache, but I
+don&#8217;t agree with you that it is more his misfortune than his
+fault.  I think he does it on purpose.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>(Just for the moment)</i><br>
+Monk&#8217;s Crofton,<br>
+Much Middleford,<br>
+Salop,<br>
+England.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>April
+20th.</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear
+Ginger,&#8212;Leaving here to-day.  In disgrace.  Hard, cold looks
+from the family.  Strained silences.  Uncle Donald far from chummy.
+You can guess what has happened.  I might have seen it coming.  I can
+see now that it was in the air all along.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+knows nothing about it.  He left just before it happened.  I shall
+see him very soon, for I have decided to come back and stop running
+away from things any longer.  It&#8217;s cowardly to skulk about over
+here.  Besides, I&#8217;m feeling so much better that I believe I can
+face the ghosts.  Anyway, I&#8217;m going to try.  See you almost as
+soon as you get this.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I
+shall mail this in London, and I suppose it will come over by the
+same boat as me.  It&#8217;s hardly worth writing, really, of course,
+but I have sneaked up to my room to wait till the motor arrives to
+take me to the station, and it&#8217;s something to do.  I can hear
+muffled voices.  The Family talking me over, probably.  Saying they
+never really liked me all along.  Oh, well!</p>
+
+<p class="right">Yours
+moving in an orderly manner to the exit,</p>
+
+<p class="right">SALLY.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF A SPARRING-PARTNER</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+emotions, as she sat in her apartment on the morning of her return to
+New York, resembled somewhat those of a swimmer who, after wavering
+on a raw morning at the brink of a chill pool, nerves himself to the
+plunge.  She was aching, but she knew that she had done well.  If she
+wanted happiness, she must fight for it, and for all these months she
+had been shirking the fight.  She had done with wavering on the
+brink, and here she was, in mid-stream, ready for whatever might
+befall.  It hurt, this coming to grips.  She had expected it to hurt.
+ But it was a pain that stimulated, not a dull melancholy that
+smothered.  She felt alive and defiant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had finished unpacking and tidying up.  The next move was certainly
+to go and see Ginger.  She had suddenly become aware that she wanted
+very badly to see Ginger.  His stolid friendliness would be a support
+and a prop.  She wished now that she had sent him a cable, so that he
+could have met her at the dock.  It had been rather terrible at the
+dock.  The echoing customs sheds had sapped her valour and she felt
+alone and forlorn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+looked at her watch, and was surprised to find how early it was.  She
+could catch him at the office and make him take her out to lunch.
+She put on her hat and went out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+restless hand of change, always active in New York, had not spared
+the outer office of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.
+in the months of her absence.  She was greeted on her arrival by an
+entirely new and original stripling in the place of the one with whom
+at her last visit she had established such cordial relations.  Like
+his predecessor he was generously pimpled, but there the resemblance
+stopped.  He was a grim boy, and his manner was stern and suspicious.
+ He peered narrowly at Sally for a moment as if he had caught her in
+the act of purloining the office blotting-paper, then, with no little
+acerbity, desired her to state her business.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+want Mr. Kemp,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+office-boy scratched his cheek dourly with a ruler.  No one would
+have guessed, so austere was his aspect, that a moment before her
+entrance he had been trying to balance it on his chin, juggling the
+while with a pair of paper-weights.  For, impervious as he seemed to
+human weaknesses, it was this lad&#8217;s ambition one day to go into
+vaudeville.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+name?&#8221; he said, coldly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nicholas,&#8221;
+said Sally.  &#8220;I am Mr. Nicholas&#8217; sister.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On
+a previous occasion when she had made this announcement, disastrous
+results had ensued; but to-day it went well.  It seemed to hit the
+office-boy like a bullet.  He started convulsively, opened his mouth,
+and dropped the ruler.  In the interval of stooping and recovering it
+he was able to pull himself together.  He had not been curious about
+Sally&#8217;s name.  What he had wished was to have the name of the
+person for whom she was asking repeated.  He now perceived that he
+had had a bit of luck.  A wearying period of disappointment in the
+matter of keeping the paper-weights circulating while balancing the
+ruler, had left him peevish, and it had been his intention to work
+off his ill-humour on the young visitor.  The discovery that it was
+the boss&#8217;s sister who was taking up his time, suggested the
+advisability of a radical change of tactics.  He had stooped with a
+frown: he returned to the perpendicular with a smile that was
+positively winning.  It was like the sun suddenly bursting through a
+London fog.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Will
+you take a seat, lady?&#8221; he said, with polished courtesy even
+unbending so far as to reach out and dust one with the sleeve of his
+coat.  He added that the morning was a fine one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thank
+you,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;Will you tell him I&#8217;m here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Nicholas is out, miss,&#8221; said the office-boy, with gentlemanly
+regret.  &#8220;He&#8217;s back in New York, but he&#8217;s gone
+out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t want Mr. Nicholas.  I want Mr. Kemp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Kemp?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+Mr. Kemp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sorrow
+at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy&#8217;s
+face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+know of anyone of that name around here,&#8221; he said,
+apologetically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+surely...&#8221; Sally broke off suddenly.  A grim foreboding had
+come to her.  &#8220;How long have you been here?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+day, ma&#8217;am,&#8221; said the office-boy, with the manner of a
+Casablanca.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean, how long have you been employed here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Just
+over a month, miss.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hasn&#8217;t
+Mr. Kemp been in the office all that time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Name&#8217;s
+new to <i>me,</i> lady.  Does he look like anything? I meanter say,
+what&#8217;s he look like?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+has very red hair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Never
+seen him in here,&#8221; said the office-boy.  The truth shone coldly
+on Sally.  She blamed herself for ever having gone away, and told
+herself that she might have known what would happen.  Left to his own
+resources, the unhappy Ginger had once more made a hash of it.  And
+this hash must have been a more notable and outstanding hash than any
+of his previous efforts, for, surely, Fillmore would not lightly have
+dismissed one who had come to him under her special protection.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Where
+is Mr. Nicholas?&#8221; she asked.  It seemed to her that Fillmore
+was the only possible source of information.  &#8220;Did you say he
+was out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Really
+out, miss,&#8221; said the office-boy, with engaging candour.  &#8220;He
+went off to White Plains in his automobile half-an-hour ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;White
+Plains? What for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+pimpled stripling had now given himself up wholeheartedly to social
+chit-chat.  Usually he liked his time to himself and resented the
+intrusion of the outer world, for he who had chosen jugglery for his
+walk in life must neglect no opportunity of practising: but so
+favourable was the impression which Sally had made on his plastic
+mind that he was delighted to converse with her as long as she
+wished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+guess what&#8217;s happened is, he&#8217;s gone up to take a look at
+Bugs Butler,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Whose</i>
+butler?&#8221; said Sally mystified.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+office-boy smiled a tolerant smile.  Though an admirer of the sex, he
+was aware that women were seldom hep to the really important things
+in life.  He did not blame them.  That was the way they were
+constructed, and one simply had to accept it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bugs
+Butler is training up at White Plains, miss.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+is Bugs Butler?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something
+of his former bleakness of aspect returned to the office-boy.
+Sally&#8217;s question had opened up a subject on which he felt
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+he replied, losing his air of respectful deference as he approached
+the topic.  &#8220;Who <i>is</i> he! That&#8217;s what they&#8217;re
+all saying, all the wise guys.  Who has Bugs Butler ever licked?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Sally, for he had fixed her with a
+penetrating gaze and seemed to be pausing for a reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nor
+nobody else,&#8221; said the stripling vehemently.  &#8220;A lot of
+stiffs out on the coast, that&#8217;s all.  Ginks nobody has ever
+heard of, except Cyclone Mullins, and it took that false alarm
+fifteen rounds to get a referee&#8217;s decision over <i>him.  </i>The
+boss would go and give him a chance against the champ, but I could
+have told him that the legitimate contender was K-leg Binns.  K-leg
+put Cyclone Mullins out in the fifth.  Well,&#8221; said the
+office-boy in the overwrought tone of one chafing at human folly, &#8220;if
+anybody thinks Bugs Butler can last six rounds with Lew Lucas, I&#8217;ve
+two bucks right here in my vest pocket that says it ain&#8217;t so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+began to see daylight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Bugs&#8212;Mr. Butler is one of the boxers in this fight that my
+brother is interested in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+right.  He&#8217;s going up against the lightweight champ.  Lew Lucas
+is the lightweight champ.  He&#8217;s a bird!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;
+said Sally.  This youth had a way of looking at her with his head
+cocked on one side as though he expected her to say something.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+<i>sir!&#8221;</i> said the stripling with emphasis.  &#8220;Lew
+Lucas is a hot sketch.  He used to live on the next street to me,&#8221;
+he added as clinching evidence of his hero&#8217;s prowess.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+seen his old mother as close as I am to you.  Say, I seen her a
+hundred times.  Is any stiff of a Bugs Butler going to lick a fellow
+like that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+doesn&#8217;t seem likely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+spoke it!&#8221; said the lad crisply, striking unsuccessfully at a
+fly which had settled on the blotting-paper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.  Sally started to rise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+there&#8217;s another thing,&#8221; said the office-boy, loath to
+close the subject.  &#8220;Can Bugs Butler make a hundred and
+thirty-five ringside without being weak?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+sounds awfully difficult.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;They
+say he&#8217;s clever.&#8221; The expert laughed satirically.  &#8220;Well,
+what&#8217;s that going to get him? The poor fish can&#8217;t punch a
+hole in a nut-sundae.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t seem to like Mr. Butler.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I&#8217;ve nothing against him,&#8221; said the office-boy
+magnanimously.  &#8220;I&#8217;m only saying he&#8217;s no licence to
+be mixing it with Lew Lucas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+got up.  Absorbing as this chat on current form was, more important
+matters claimed her attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+shall I find my brother when I get to White Plains?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+anybody&#8217;ll show you the way to the training-camp.  If you
+hurry, there&#8217;s a train you can make now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Thank
+you very much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+welcome.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+opened the door for her with an old-world politeness which disuse had
+rendered a little rusty: then, with an air of getting back to
+business after a pleasant but frivolous interlude, he took up the
+paper-weights once more and placed the ruler with nice care on his
+upturned chin.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore
+heaved a sigh of relief and began to sidle from the room.  It was a
+large room, half barn, half gymnasium.  Athletic appliances of
+various kinds hung on the walls and in the middle there was a wide
+roped-off space, around which a small crowd had distributed itself
+with an air of expectancy.  This is a commercial age, and the days
+when a prominent pugilist&#8217;s training activities used to be
+hidden from the public gaze are over.  To-day, if the public can lay
+its hands on fifty cents, it may come and gaze its fill.  This
+afternoon, plutocrats to the number of about forty had assembled,
+though not all of these, to the regret of Mr. Lester Burrowes, the
+manager of the eminent Bugs Butler, had parted with solid coin.  Many
+of those present were newspaper representatives and on the free
+list&#8212;writers who would polish up Mr. Butler&#8217;s somewhat
+crude prognostications as to what he proposed to do to Mr. Lew Lucas,
+and would report him as saying, &#8220;I am in really superb
+condition and feel little apprehension of the issue,&#8221; and
+artists who would depict him in a state of semi-nudity with feet
+several sizes too large for any man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+reason for Fillmore&#8217;s relief was that Mr. Burrowes, who was a
+great talker and had buttonholed him a quarter of an hour ago, had at
+last had his attention distracted elsewhere, and had gone off to
+investigate some matter that called for his personal handling,
+leaving Fillmore free to slide away to the hotel and get a bite to
+eat, which he sorely needed.  The zeal which had brought him to the
+training-camp to inspect the final day of Mr. Butler&#8217;s
+preparation&#8212;for the fight was to take place on the morrow&#8212;had
+been so great that he had omitted to lunch before leaving New York.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So
+Fillmore made thankfully for the door.  And it was at the door that
+he encountered Sally.  He was looking over his shoulder at the
+moment, and was not aware of her presence till she spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hallo,
+Fillmore!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had spoken softly, but a dynamite explosion could not have shattered
+her brother&#8217;s composure with more completeness.  In the leaping
+twist which brought him facing her, he rose a clear three inches from
+the floor.  He had a confused sensation, as though his nervous system
+had been stirred up with a pole.  He struggled for breath and
+moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, staring at her
+continuously during the process.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Great
+men, in their moments of weakness, are to be pitied rather than
+scorned.  If ever a man had an excuse for leaping like a young ram,
+Fillmore had it.  He had left Sally not much more than a week ago in
+England, in Shropshire, at Monk&#8217;s Crofton.  She had said
+nothing of any intention on her part of leaving the country, the
+county, or the house.  Yet here she was, in Bugs Butler&#8217;s
+training-camp at White Plains, in the State of New York, speaking
+softly in his ear without even going through the preliminary of
+tapping him on the shoulder to advertise her presence.  No wonder
+that Fillmore was startled.  And no wonder that, as he adjusted his
+faculties to the situation, there crept upon him a chill
+apprehension.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For
+Fillmore had not been blind to the significance of that invitation to
+Monk&#8217;s Crofton.  Nowadays your wooer does not formally approach
+a girl&#8217;s nearest relative and ask permission to pay his
+addresses; but, when he invites her and that nearest relative to his
+country home and collects all the rest of the family to meet her, the
+thing may be said to have advanced beyond the realms of mere
+speculation.  Shrewdly Fillmore had deduced that Bruce Carmyle was in
+love with Sally, and mentally he had joined their hands and given
+them a brother&#8217;s blessing.  And now it was only too plain that
+disaster must have occurred.  If the invitation could mean only one
+thing, so also could Sally&#8217;s presence at White Plains mean only
+one thing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally!&#8221;
+A croaking whisper was the best he could achieve.  &#8220;What...
+what... ?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+I startle you? I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+are you doing here? Why aren&#8217;t you at Monk&#8217;s Crofton?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+glanced past him at the ring and the crowd around it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+decided I wanted to get back to America.  Circumstances arose which
+made it pleasanter to leave Monk&#8217;s Crofton.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do you mean to say... ?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ Don&#8217;t let&#8217;s talk about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mean to say,&#8221; persisted Fillmore, &#8220;that Carmyle
+proposed to you and you turned him down?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+flushed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t think it&#8217;s particularly nice to talk about that
+sort of thing, but&#8212;yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+feeling of desolation overcame Fillmore.  That conviction, which
+saddens us at all times, of the wilful bone-headedness of our fellows
+swept coldly upon him.  Everything had been so perfect, the whole
+arrangement so ideal, that it had never occurred to him as a
+possibility that Sally might take it into her head to spoil it by
+declining to play the part allotted to her.  The match was so
+obviously the best thing that could happen.  It was not merely the
+suitor&#8217;s impressive wealth that made him hold this opinion,
+though it would be idle to deny that the prospect of having a
+brother-in-lawful claim on the Carmyle bank-balance had cast a rosy
+glamour over the future as he had envisaged it.  He honestly liked
+and respected the man.  He appreciated his quiet and aristocratic
+reserve.  A well-bred fellow, sensible withal, just the sort of
+husband a girl like Sally needed.  And now she had ruined everything.
+ With the capricious perversity which so characterizes her otherwise
+delightful sex, she had spilled the beans.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Fill!&#8221; Sally had expected that realization of the facts would
+produce these symptoms in him, but now that they had presented
+themselves she was finding them rasping to the nerves.  &#8220;I
+should have thought the reason was obvious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+mean you don&#8217;t like him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know whether I do or not.  I certainly don&#8217;t like
+him enough to marry him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;s
+a darned good fellow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+he? You say so.  I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+imperious desire for bodily sustenance began to compete successfully
+for Fillmore&#8217;s notice with his spiritual anguish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Let&#8217;s
+go to the hotel and talk it over.  We&#8217;ll go to the hotel and
+I&#8217;ll give you something to eat.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t want anything to eat, thanks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t want anything to eat?&#8221; said Fillmore incredulously.
+ He supposed in a vague sort of way that there were eccentric people
+of this sort, but it was hard to realize that he had met one of them.
+ &#8220;I&#8217;m starving.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+run along then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but I want to talk...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was not the only person who wanted to talk.  At the moment a small
+man of sporting exterior hurried up.  He wore what his tailor&#8217;s
+advertisements would have called a &#8220;nobbly&#8221; suit of
+checked tweed and&#8212;in defiance of popular prejudice&#8212;a
+brown bowler hat.  Mr. Lester Burrowes, having dealt with the
+business which had interrupted their conversation a few minutes
+before, was anxious to resume his remarks on the subject of the
+supreme excellence in every respect of his young charge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Say,
+Mr. Nicholas, you ain&#8217;t going&#8217;? Bugs is just getting
+ready to spar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+glanced inquiringly at Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+sister&#8212;Mr. Burrowes,&#8221; said Fillmore faintly.  &#8220;Mr.
+Burrowes is Bugs Butler&#8217;s manager.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+do you do?&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pleased
+to meecher,&#8221; said Mr. Burrowes.  &#8220;Say...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was just going to the hotel to get something to eat,&#8221; said
+Fillmore.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with
+a glittering eye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef&#8217;n.  You&#8217;ve
+never seen this boy of mine, not when he was feeling <i>right.
+</i>Believe me, he&#8217;s there! He&#8217;s a wizard.  He&#8217;s a
+Hindoo! Say, he&#8217;s been practising up a left shift that...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+eye met Sally&#8217;s wanly, and she pitied him.  Presently she would
+require him to explain to her how he had dared to dismiss Ginger from
+his employment&#8212;and make that explanation a good one: but in the
+meantime she remembered that he was her brother and was suffering.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;s
+the cleverest lightweight,&#8221; proceeded Mr. Burrowes fervently,
+&#8220;since Joe Gans.  I&#8217;m telling you and I <i>know! </i>He...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Can
+he make a hundred and thirty-five ringside without being weak?&#8221;
+asked Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+effect of this simple question on Mr. Burrowes was stupendous.  He
+dropped away from Fillmore&#8217;s coat-button like an exhausted
+bivalve, and his small mouth opened feebly.  It was as if a child had
+suddenly propounded to an eminent mathematician some abstruse problem
+in the higher algebra.  Females who took an interest in boxing had
+come into Mr. Burrowes&#8217; life before&#8212;-in his younger days,
+when he was a famous featherweight, the first of his three wives had
+been accustomed to sit at the ringside during his contests and urge
+him in language of the severest technicality to knock opponents&#8217;
+blocks off&#8212;but somehow he had not supposed from her appearance
+and manner that Sally was one of the elect.  He gaped at her, and the
+relieved Fillmore sidled off like a bird hopping from the compelling
+gaze of a snake.  He was not quite sure that he was acting correctly
+in allowing his sister to roam at large among the somewhat Bohemian
+surroundings of a training-camp, but the instinct of
+self-preservation turned the scale.  He had breakfasted early, and if
+he did not eat right speedily it seemed to him that dissolution would
+set in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Whazzat?&#8221;
+said Mr. Burrowes feebly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+took him fifteen rounds to get a referee&#8217;s decision over
+Cyclone Mullins,&#8221; said Sally severely, &#8220;and K-leg
+Binns...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Burrowes rallies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+ain&#8217;t got it <i>right&#8221;</i> he protested.  &#8220;Say, you
+mustn&#8217;t believe what you see in the papers.  The referee was
+dead against us, and Cyclone was down once for all of half a minute
+and they wouldn&#8217;t count him out.  Gee! You got to <i>kill</i> a
+guy in some towns before they&#8217;ll give you a decision.  At that,
+they couldn&#8217;t do nothing so raw as make it anything but a win
+for my boy, after him leading by a mile all the way.  Have you ever
+<i>seen</i> Bugs, ma&#8217;am?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had to admit that she had not had that privilege.  Mr. Burrowes with
+growing excitement felt in his breastpocket and produced a
+picture-postcard, which he thrust into her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+Bugs,&#8221; he said.  &#8220;Take a slant at that and then tell me
+if he don&#8217;t look the goods.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+photograph represented a young man in the irreducible minimum of
+clothing who crouched painfully, as though stricken with one of the
+acuter forms of gastritis.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+call him over and have him sign it for you,&#8221; said Mr. Burrowes,
+before Sally had had time to grasp the fact that this work of art was
+a gift and no mere loan.  &#8220;Here, Bugs&#8212;wantcher.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+youth enveloped in a bath-robe, who had been talking to a group of
+admirers near the ring, turned, started languidly towards them, then,
+seeing Sally, quickened his pace.  He was an admirer of the sex.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Burrowes did the honours.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bugs,
+this is Miss Nicholas, come to see you work out.  I have been telling
+her she&#8217;s going to have a treat.&#8221; And to Sally.  &#8220;Shake
+hands with Bugs Butler, ma&#8217;am, the coming lightweight champion
+of the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Butler&#8217;s photograph, Sally considered, had flattered him.  He
+was, in the flesh, a singularly repellent young man.  There was a
+mean and cruel curve to his lips and a cold arrogance in his eye; a
+something dangerous and sinister in the atmosphere he radiated.
+Moreover, she did not like the way he smirked at her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">However,
+she exerted herself to be amiable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming
+champion&#8217;s doubts, though they had never been serious.  He was
+convinced now that he had made a hit.  He always did, he reflected,
+with the girls.  It was something about him.  His chest swelled
+complacently beneath the bath-robe.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+betcher,&#8221; he asserted briefly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Burrows looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Time
+you were starting, Bugs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+coming champion removed his gaze from Sally&#8217;s face, into which
+he had been peering in a conquering manner, and cast a disparaging
+glance at the audience.  It was far from being as large as he could
+have wished, and at least a third of it was composed of non-payers
+from the newspapers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;All
+right,&#8221; he said, bored.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits
+revived somewhat.  After all, small though the numbers of spectators
+might be, bright eyes would watch and admire him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;Seen him anywheres? He&#8217;s never around when he&#8217;s
+wanted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+fetch him,&#8221; said Mr. Burrowes.  &#8220;He&#8217;s back there
+somewheres.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to show that guy up this afternoon,&#8221; said Mr. Butler
+coldly.  &#8220;He&#8217;s been getting too fresh.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+manager bustled off, and Bugs Butler, with a final smirk, left Sally
+and dived under the ropes.  There was a stir of interest in the
+audience, though the newspaper men, blasé through familiarity,
+exhibited no emotion.  Presently Mr. Burrowes reappeared, shepherding
+a young man whose face was hidden by the sweater which he was pulling
+over his head.  He was a sturdily built young man.  The sweater,
+moving from his body, revealed a good pair of shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+last tug, and the sweater was off.  Red hair flashed into view,
+tousled and disordered: and, as she saw it, Sally uttered an
+involuntary gasp of astonishment which caused many eyes to turn
+towards her.  And the red-headed young man, who had been stooping to
+pick up his gloves, straightened himself with a jerk and stood
+staring at her blankly and incredulously, his face slowly crimsoning.
+</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+was the energetic Mr. Burrowes who broke the spell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Come
+on, come on,&#8221; he said impatiently.  &#8220;Li&#8217;l speed
+there, Reddy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+Kemp started like a sleep-walker awakened; then recovering himself,
+slowly began to pull on the gloves.  Embarrassment was stamped on his
+agreeable features.  His face matched his hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+plucked at the little manager&#8217;s elbow.  He turned irritably,
+but beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source
+of the interruption.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who&#8212;him?&#8221;
+he said in answer to Sally&#8217;s whispered question.  &#8220;He&#8217;s
+just one of Bugs&#8217; sparring-partners.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ll
+excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch.  We mustn&#8217;t
+waste any time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+drew back.  She felt like an infidel who intrudes upon the
+celebration of strange rites.  This was Man&#8217;s hour, and women
+must keep in the background.  She had the sensation of being very
+small and yet very much in the way, like a puppy who has wandered
+into a church.  The novelty and solemnity of the scene awed her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+looked at Ginger, who with averted gaze was fiddling with his clothes
+in the opposite corner of the ring.  He was as removed from
+communication as if he had been in another world.  She continued to
+stare, wide-eyed, and Ginger, shuffling his feet self-consciously,
+plucked at his gloves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Butler, meanwhile, having doffed his bath-robe, stretched himself,
+and with leisurely nonchalance put on a second pair of gloves, was
+filling in the time with a little shadow boxing.  He moved
+rhythmically to and fro, now ducking his head, now striking out with
+his muffled hands, and a sickening realization of the man&#8217;s
+animal power swept over Sally and turned her cold.  Swathed in his
+bath-robe, Bugs Butler had conveyed an atmosphere of dangerousness:
+in the boxing-tights which showed up every rippling muscle, he was
+horrible and sinister, a machine built for destruction, a human
+panther.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So
+he appeared to Sally, but a stout and bulbous eyed man standing at
+her side was not equally impressed.  Obviously one of the Wise Guys
+of whom her friend the sporting office-boy had spoken, he was frankly
+dissatisfied with the exhibition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Shadow-boxing,&#8221;
+he observed in a cavilling spirit to his companion.  &#8220;Yes, he
+can do that all right, just like I can fox-trot if I ain&#8217;t got
+a partner to get in the way.  But one good wallop, and then watch
+him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+friend, also plainly a guy of established wisdom, assented with a
+curt nod.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+he agreed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Lew
+Lucas,&#8221; said the first wise guy, &#8220;is just as shifty, and
+he can punch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+said the second wise guy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Just
+because he beats up a few poor mutts of sparring-partners,&#8221;
+said the first wise guy disparagingly, &#8220;he thinks he&#8217;s
+someone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+said the second wise guy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As
+far as Sally could interpret these remarks, the full meaning of which
+was shrouded from her, they seemed to be reassuring.  For a
+comforting moment she ceased to regard Ginger as a martyr waiting to
+be devoured by a lion.  Mr. Butler, she gathered, was not so
+formidable as he appeared.  But her relief was not to be long-lived.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course he&#8217;ll eat this red-headed gink,&#8221; went on the first
+wise guy.  &#8220;That&#8217;s the thing he does best, killing his
+sparring-partners.  But Lew Lucas...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was not interested in Lew Lucas.  That numbing fear had come back to
+her.  Even these cognoscenti, little as they esteemed Mr. Butler, had
+plainly no doubts as to what he would do to Ginger.  She tried to
+tear herself away, but something stronger than her own will kept her
+there standing where she was, holding on to the rope and staring
+forlornly into the ring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ready,
+Bugs?&#8221; asked Mr. Burrowes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+coming champion nodded carelessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go
+to it,&#8221; said Mr. Burrowes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+ceased to pluck at his gloves and advanced into the ring.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">4</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Of
+all the learned professions, pugilism is the one in which the trained
+expert is most sharply divided from the mere dabbler.  In other
+fields the amateur may occasionally hope to compete successfully with
+the man who has made a business of what is to him but a sport, but at
+boxing never: and the whole demeanour of Bugs Butler showed that he
+had laid this truth to heart.  It would be too little to say that his
+bearing was confident: he comported himself with the care-free
+jauntiness of an infant about to demolish a Noah&#8217;s Ark with a
+tack-hammer.  Cyclone Mullinses might withstand him for fifteen
+rounds where they yielded to a K-leg Binns in the fifth, but, when it
+came to beating up a sparring-partner and an amateur at that, Bugs
+Butler knew his potentialities.  He was there forty ways and he did
+not attempt to conceal it.  Crouching as was his wont, he uncoiled
+himself like a striking rattlesnake and flicked Ginger lightly over
+his guard.  Then he returned to his crouch and circled sinuously
+about the ring with the amiable intention of showing the crowd,
+payers and deadheads alike, what real footwork was.  If there was one
+thing on which Bugs Butler prided himself, it was footwork.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+adverb &#8220;lightly&#8221; is a relative term, and the blow which
+had just planted a dull patch on Ginger&#8217;s cheekbone affected
+those present in different degrees.  Ginger himself appeared stolidly
+callous.  Sally shuddered to the core of her being and had to hold
+more tightly to the rope to support herself.  The two wise guys
+mocked openly.  To the wise guys, expert connoisseurs of swat, the
+thing had appeared richly farcical.  They seemed to consider the
+blow, administered to a third party and not to themselves, hardly
+worth calling a blow at all.  Two more, landing as quickly and neatly
+as the first, left them equally cold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Call
+that punching?&#8221; said the first wise guy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+said the second wise guy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+Mr. Butler, if he heard this criticism&#8212;and it is probable that
+he did&#8212;for the wise ones had been restrained by no delicacy of
+feeling from raising their voices, was in no way discommoded by it.
+Bugs Butler knew what he was about.  Bright eyes were watching him,
+and he meant to give them a treat.  The girls like smooth work.  Any
+roughneck could sail into a guy and knock the daylights out of him,
+but how few could be clever and flashy and scientific? Few, few,
+indeed, thought Mr. Butler as he slid in and led once more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something
+solid smote Mr. Butler&#8217;s nose, rocking him on to his heels and
+inducing an unpleasant smarting sensation about his eyes.  He backed
+away and regarded Ginger with astonishment, almost with pain.  Until
+this moment he had scarcely considered him as an active participant
+in the scene at all, and he felt strongly that this sort of thing was
+bad form.  It was not being done by sparring-partners.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+juster man might have reflected that he himself was to blame.  He had
+undeniably been careless.  In the very act of leading he had allowed
+his eyes to flicker sideways to see how Sally was taking this
+exhibition of science, and he had paid the penalty.  Nevertheless, he
+was piqued.  He shimmered about the ring, thinking it over.  And the
+more he thought it over, the less did he approve of his young
+assistant&#8217;s conduct.  Hard thoughts towards Ginger began to
+float in his mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger,
+too, was thinking hard thoughts.  He had not had an easy time since
+he had come to the training camp, but never till to-day had he
+experienced any resentment towards his employer.  Until this
+afternoon Bugs Butler had pounded him honestly and without malice,
+and he had gone through it, as the other sparring-partners did,
+phlegmatically, taking it as part of the day&#8217;s work.  But this
+afternoon there had been a difference.  Those careless flicks had
+been an insult, a deliberate offence.  The man was trying to make a
+fool of him, playing to the gallery: and the thought of who was in
+that gallery inflamed Ginger past thought of consequences.  No one,
+not even Mr. Butler, was more keenly alive than he to the fact that
+in a serious conflict with a man who to-morrow night might be
+light-weight champion of the world he stood no chance whatever: but
+he did not intend to be made an exhibition of in front of Sally
+without doing something to hold his end up.  He proposed to go down
+with his flag flying, and in pursuance of this object he dug Mr.
+Butler heavily in the lower ribs with his right, causing that expert
+to clinch and the two wise guys to utter sharp barking sounds
+expressive of derision.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Say,
+what the hell d&#8217;ya think you&#8217;re getting at?&#8221;
+demanded the aggrieved pugilist in a heated whisper in Ginger&#8217;s
+ear as they fell into the embrace.  &#8220;What&#8217;s the idea, you
+jelly bean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+maintained a pink silence.  His jaw was set, and the temper which
+Nature had bestowed upon him to go with his hair had reached white
+heat.  He dodged a vicious right which whizzed up at his chin out of
+the breaking clinch, and rushed.  A left hook shook him, but was too
+high to do more.  There was rough work in the far corner, and
+suddenly with startling abruptness Bugs Butler, bothered by the ropes
+at his back and trying to side-step, ran into a swing and fell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Time!&#8221;
+shouted the scandalized Mr. Burrowes, utterly aghast at this
+frightful misadventure.  In the whole course of his professional
+experience he could recall no such devastating occurrence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+audience was no less startled.  There was audible gasping.  The
+newspaper men looked at each other with a wild surmise and conjured
+up pleasant pictures of their sporting editors receiving this
+sensational item of news later on over the telephone.  The two wise
+guys, continuing to pursue Mr. Butler with their dislike, emitted
+loud and raucous laughs, and one of them, forming his hands into a
+megaphone, urged the fallen warrior to go away and get a rep.  As for
+Sally, she was conscious of a sudden, fierce, cave-womanly rush of
+happiness which swept away completely the sickening qualms of the
+last few minutes.  Her teeth were clenched and her eyes blazed with
+joyous excitement.  She looked at Ginger yearningly, longing to
+forget a gentle upbringing and shout congratulation to him.  She was
+proud of him.  And mingled with the pride was a curious feeling that
+was almost fear.  This was not the mild and amiable young man whom
+she was wont to mother through the difficulties of a world in which
+he was unfitted to struggle for himself.  This was a new Ginger, a
+stranger to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On
+the rare occasions on which he had been knocked down in the past, it
+had been Bugs Butler&#8217;s canny practice to pause for a while and
+rest before rising and continuing the argument, but now he was up
+almost before he had touched the boards, and the satire of the second
+wise guy, who had begun to saw the air with his hand and count
+loudly, lost its point.  It was only too plain that Mr. Butler&#8217;s
+motto was that a man may be down, but he is never out.  And, indeed,
+the knock-down had been largely a stumble.  Bugs Butler&#8217;s
+educated feet, which had carried him unscathed through so many
+contests, had for this single occasion managed to get themselves
+crossed just as Ginger&#8217;s blow landed, and it was to his lack of
+balance rather than the force of the swing that his downfall had been
+due.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Time!&#8221;
+he snarled, casting a malevolent side-glance at his manager.  &#8220;Like
+hell it&#8217;s time!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+in a whirlwind of flying gloves he flung himself upon Ginger, driving
+him across the ring, while Mr. Burrowes, watch in hand, stared with
+dropping jaw.  If Ginger had seemed a new Ginger to Sally, still more
+did this seem a new Bugs Butler to Mr. Burrowes, and the manager
+groaned in spirit.  Coolness, skill and science&#8212;these had been
+the qualities in his protégé which had always so
+endeared him to Mr. Lester Burrowes and had so enriched their
+respective bank accounts: and now, on the eve of the most important
+fight in his life, before an audience of newspaper men, he had thrown
+them all aside and was making an exhibition of himself with a common
+sparring-partner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That
+was the bitter blow to Mr. Burrowes.  Had this lapse into the
+unscientific primitive happened in a regular fight, he might have
+mourned and poured reproof into Bug&#8217;s ear when he got him back
+in his corner at the end of the round; but he would not have
+experienced this feeling of helpless horror&#8212;the sort of horror
+an elder of the church might feel if he saw his favourite bishop
+yielding in public to the fascination of jazz.  It was the fact that
+Bugs Butler was lowering himself to extend his powers against a
+sparring-partner that shocked Mr. Burrowes.  There is an etiquette in
+these things.  A champion may batter his sparring-partners into
+insensibility if he pleases, but he must do it with nonchalance.  He
+must not appear to be really trying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+nothing could be more manifest than that Bugs Butler was trying.  His
+whole fighting soul was in his efforts to corner Ginger and destroy
+him.  The battle was raging across the ring and down the ring, and up
+the ring and back again; yet always Ginger, like a storm-driven ship,
+contrived somehow to weather the tempest.  Out of the flurry of
+swinging arms he emerged time after time bruised, bleeding, but
+fighting hard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For
+Bugs Butler&#8217;s fury was defeating its object.  Had he remained
+his cool and scientific self, he could have demolished Ginger and cut
+through his defence in a matter of seconds.  But he had lapsed back
+into the methods of his unskilled novitiate.  He swung and missed,
+swung and missed again, struck but found no vital spot.  And now
+there was blood on his face, too.  In some wild mêlée
+the sacred fount had been tapped, and his teeth gleamed through a
+crimson mist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+Wise Guys were beyond speech.  They were leaning against one another,
+punching each other feebly in the back.  One was crying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And
+then suddenly the end came, as swiftly and unexpectedly as the thing
+had begun.  His wild swings had tired Bugs Butler, and with fatigue
+prudence returned to him.  His feet began once more their subtle
+weaving in and out.  Twice his left hand flickered home.  A quick
+feint, a short, jolting stab, and Ginger&#8217;s guard was down and
+he was swaying in the middle of the ring, his hands hanging and his
+knees a-quiver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bugs
+Butler measured his distance, and Sally shut her eyes.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">MR. ABRAHAMS RE-ENGAGES AN OLD EMPLOYEE</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringing
+happiness to others.  Bugs Butler&#8217;s mood, accordingly, when
+some thirty hours after the painful episode recorded in the last
+chapter he awoke from a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to
+discover that Mr. Lew Lucas had knocked him out in the middle of the
+third round, should have been one of quiet contentment.  His
+inability to block a short left-hook followed by a right to the point
+of the jaw had ameliorated quite a number of existences.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased.  So were Mr. Lucas&#8217;s
+seconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him.  And most of the
+crowd, who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted.  Yet
+Bugs Butler did not rejoice.  It is not too much to say that his
+peevish bearing struck a jarring note in the general gaiety.  A heavy
+frown disfigured his face as he slouched from the ring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+the happiness which he had spread went on spreading.  The two Wise
+Guys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received the
+result on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer
+by five hundred dollars.  The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore
+Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Ltd.  caused remark in the Subway by
+whooping gleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for
+he, too, had been rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr.
+Butler&#8217;s chin.  And it was with fierce satisfaction that Sally,
+breakfasting in her little apartment, informed herself through the
+sporting page of the details of the contender&#8217;s downfall.  She
+was not a girl who disliked many people, but she had acquired a
+lively distaste for Bugs Butler.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lew
+Lucas seemed a man after her own heart.  If he had been a personal
+friend of Ginger&#8217;s he could not, considering the brief time at
+his disposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness.  In round one
+he had done all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler&#8217;s left
+eye: in round two he had continued the good work on that gentleman&#8217;s
+body; and in round three he had knocked him out.  Could anyone have
+done more? Sally thought not, and she drank Lew Lucas&#8217;s health
+in a cup of coffee and hoped his old mother was proud of him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+telephone bell rang at her elbow.  She unhooked the receiver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+hullo,&#8221; said a voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger!&#8221;
+cried Sally delightedly.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, I&#8217;m awfully glad you&#8217;re back.  I only got your
+letter this morning.  Found it at the boarding-house.  I happened to
+look in there and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+interrupted Sally, &#8220;your voice is music, but I want to <i>see</i>
+you.  Where are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+at a chemist&#8217;s shop across the street.  I was wondering if...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Come
+here at once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, may I? I was just going to ask.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+miserable creature, why haven&#8217;t you been round to see me
+before?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+as a matter of fact, I haven&#8217;t been going about much for the
+last day.  You see...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+know.  Of course.&#8221; Quick sympathy came into Sally&#8217;s
+voice.  She gave a sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the
+large picture of Lew Lucas which beamed up at her from the morning
+paper.  &#8220;You poor thing! How are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+all right, thanks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+hurry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+not much to look at, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+never were.  Stop talking and hurry over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean to say...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+hung up the receiver firmly.  She waited eagerly for some minutes,
+and then footsteps came along the passage.  They stopped at her door
+and the bell rang.  Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and
+recoiled in consternation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Ginger!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not much
+to look at.  He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right
+eye, but the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull
+purple.  A great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with
+some difficulty through swollen lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+all <i>right,</i> you know,&#8221; he assured her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+isn&#8217;t.  It&#8217;s awful! Oh, you poor darling!&#8221; She
+clenched her teeth viciously.  &#8220;I wish he had killed him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him.  Brute!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I don&#8217;t know, you know.&#8221; Ginger&#8217;s sense of fairness
+compelled him to defend his late employer against these harsh
+sentiments.  &#8220;He isn&#8217;t a bad sort of chap, really.  Bugs
+Butler, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don&#8217;t loathe
+the creature?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+he&#8217;s all right.  See his point of view and all that.  Can&#8217;t
+blame him, if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit
+in the circs.  Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at
+him like that.  Naturally he didn&#8217;t think it much of a wheeze.
+It was my fault right along.  Oughtn&#8217;t to have done it, of
+course, but somehow, when he started making an ass of me and I knew
+you were looking on... well, it seemed a good idea to have a dash at
+doing something on my own.  No right to, of course.  A
+sparring-partner isn&#8217;t supposed...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sit
+down,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+sat down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+said Sally, &#8220;you&#8217;re too good to live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I say!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chain
+you&#8217;d say there were faults on both sides or something.  I&#8217;m
+just a cat, and I say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished
+miserably.  I&#8217;d have gone and danced on his grave... But
+whatever made you go in for that sort of thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it seemed the only job that was going at the moment.  I&#8217;ve
+always done a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and
+it looked to me rather an opening.  Gave me something to get along
+with.  You get paid quite fairly decently, you know, and it&#8217;s
+rather a jolly life...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Jolly?
+Being hammered about like that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+you don&#8217;t notice it much.  I&#8217;ve always enjoyed scrapping
+rather.  And, you see, when your brother gave me the push...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+uttered an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+an extraordinary thing it is&#8212;I went all the way out to White
+Plains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and
+I didn&#8217;t say a word about it.  And I haven&#8217;t seen or been
+able to get hold of him since.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No?
+Busy sort of cove, your brother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+did Fillmore let you go?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Let
+me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up.  A kind of
+misunderstanding.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+it was nothing.  Just a...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment.  He looked awkwardly
+about the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+not worth talking about.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+<i>is</i> worth talking about.  I&#8217;ve a right to know.  It was I
+who sent you to Fillmore...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+<i>that,&#8221;</i> said Ginger, &#8220;was jolly decent of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let you
+go without saying a word to me.  What happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+twiddled his fingers unhappily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it was rather unfortunate.  You see, his wife&#8212;I don&#8217;t
+know if you know her?...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I know her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+yes, you would, wouldn&#8217;t you? Your brother&#8217;s wife, I
+mean,&#8221; said Ginger acutely.  &#8220;Though, as a matter of
+fact, you often find sisters-in-law who won&#8217;t have anything to
+do with one another.  I know a fellow...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+said Sally, &#8220;it&#8217;s no good your thinking you can get out
+of telling me by rambling off on other subjects.  I&#8217;m grim and
+resolute and relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I
+have to use a corkscrew.  Fillmore&#8217;s wife, you were saying...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+came back reluctantly to the main theme.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling
+about...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fooling
+about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+kind of chivvying each other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Chivvying?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;At
+least<i> I</i> was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+were what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sort
+of chasing her a bit, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+<i>do</i> you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+embarrassment increased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when I
+happened to be looking at something, and I didn&#8217;t know she was
+there till she suddenly grabbed it...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Grabbed
+what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+thing.  The thing I happened to be looking at.  She bagged it...
+collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn&#8217;t
+give it back and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather
+began to chivvy her to some extent, and I&#8217;d just caught her
+when your brother happened to roll in.  I suppose,&#8221; said
+Ginger, putting two and two together, &#8220;he had really come with
+her to the office and had happened to hang back for a minute or two,
+to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he was
+considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife.
+Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it,&#8221; said
+Ginger, ever fair-minded.  &#8220;Well, he didn&#8217;t say anything
+at the time, but a bit later in the day he called me in and
+administered the push.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+shook her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+sounds the craziest story to me.  What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took
+from you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+just something.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+rapped the table imperiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+as a matter of fact,&#8221; said her goaded visitor, &#8220;It was a
+photograph.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+of? Or, if you&#8217;re particular, of whom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...
+you, to be absolutely accurate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Me?&#8221;
+Sally stared.  &#8220;But I&#8217;ve never given you a photograph of
+myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+face was a study in scarlet and purple.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+didn&#8217;t exactly <i>give</i> it to me,&#8221; he mumbled.  &#8220;When
+I say give, I mean...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+gracious!&#8221; Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally.  &#8220;That
+photograph we were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen
+it all the time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+yes, I did sort of pinch it...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it.&#8221;
+She gazed at him almost with respect.  &#8220;I never knew you were
+so deep and snaky.  I&#8217;m discovering all sorts of new things
+about you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a brief silence.  Ginger, confession over, seemed a trifle
+happier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+hope you&#8217;re not frightfully sick about it?&#8221; he said at
+length.  &#8220;It was lying about, you know, and I rather felt I
+must have it.  Hadn&#8217;t the cheek to ask you for it, so...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+apologize,&#8221; said Sally cordially.  &#8220;Great compliment.  So
+I have caused your downfall again, have I? I&#8217;m certainly your
+evil genius, Ginger.  I&#8217;m beginning to feel like a regular rag
+and a bone and a hank of hair.  First I egged you on to insult your
+family&#8212;oh, by the way, I want to thank you about that.  Now
+that I&#8217;ve met your Uncle Donald I can see how public-spirited
+you were.  I ruined your prospects there, and now my fatal beauty&#8212;
+cabinet size&#8212;has led to your destruction once more.  It&#8217;s
+certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+really, I say, you mustn&#8217;t bother.  I shall be all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+my duty.  Now what is there that you really <i>can</i> do? Burglary,
+of course, but it&#8217;s not respectable.  You&#8217;ve tried being
+a waiter and a prize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those
+seems to be just right.  Can&#8217;t you suggest anything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+shook his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shall wangle something, I expect.&#8221; &#8216;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but what? It must be something good this time.  I don&#8217;t want to
+be walking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a
+street-cleaner.  I don&#8217;t want to send for an express-man and
+find you popping up.  My idea would be to go to my bank to arrange an
+overdraft and be told the president could give me two minutes and
+crawl in humbly and find you prezzing away to beat the band in a big
+chair.  Isn&#8217;t there anything in the world that you can do
+that&#8217;s solid and substantial and will keep you out of the
+poor-house in your old age? Think!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course, if I had a bit of capital...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!
+The business man! And what,&#8221; inquired Sally, &#8220;would you
+do, Mr. Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Run
+a dog-thingummy,&#8221; said Ginger promptly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+a dog-thingummy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+a thingamajig.  For dogs, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+nodded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand.  You will put things so
+obscurely at first.  Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving
+about? What on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean a sort of place like fellows have.  Breeding dogs, you know, and
+selling them and winning prizes and all that.  There are lots of them
+about.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+a <i>kennels?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+a kennels.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+a weird mind you have, Ginger.  You couldn&#8217;t say kennels at
+first, could you? That wouldn&#8217;t have made it difficult enough.
+I suppose, if anyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would
+say, &#8216;Oh, at a thingamajig for mutton chops&#8217;... Ginger,
+my lad, there is something in this.  I believe for the first time in
+our acquaintance you have spoken something very nearly resembling a
+mouthful.  You&#8217;re wonderful with dogs, aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+dashed keen on them, and I&#8217;ve studied them a bit.  As a matter
+of fact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn&#8217;t much
+about dogs that I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course.  I believe you&#8217;re a sort of honorary dog yourself.  I
+could tell it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville.  You
+plunged into a howling mass of about a million hounds of all species
+and just whispered in their ears and they stopped at once.  Why, the
+more one examines this, the better it looks.  I do believe it&#8217;s
+the one thing you couldn&#8217;t help making a success of.  It&#8217;s
+very paying, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Works
+out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I&#8217;ve
+been told.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore&#8217;s
+for comfort.  Let&#8217;s say ninety-nine and be conservative.
+Ginger, you have hit it.  Say no more.  You shall be the Dog King,
+the biggest thingamajigger for dogs in the country.  But how do you
+start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into a
+cove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out.  That was
+what made me think of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+must start to-day.  Or early to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Ginger doubtfully.  &#8220;Of course, there&#8217;s the catch,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+catch?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+capital.  You&#8217;ve got to have that.  This fellow wouldn&#8217;t
+sell out under five thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+lend you five thousand dollars.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No!&#8221;
+said Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+looked at him with exasperation.  &#8220;Ginger, I&#8217;d like to
+slap you,&#8221; she said.  It was maddening, this intrusion of
+sentiment into business affairs.  Why, simply because he was a man
+and she was a woman, should she be restrained from investing money in
+a sound commercial undertaking? If Columbus had taken up this
+bone-headed stand towards Queen Isabella, America would never have
+been discovered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can&#8217;t take five thousand dollars off you,&#8221; said Ginger
+firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who&#8217;s
+talking of taking it off me, as you call it?&#8221; stormed Sally.
+&#8220;Can&#8217;t you forget your burglarious career for a second?
+This isn&#8217;t the same thing as going about stealing defenceless
+girls&#8217; photographs.  This is business.  I think you would make
+an enormous success of a dog-place, and you admit you&#8217;re
+good, so why make frivolous objections? Why shouldn&#8217;t I put
+money into a good thing? Don&#8217;t you want me to get rich, or what
+is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+was becoming confused.  Argument had never been his strong point.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+it&#8217;s such a lot of money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To
+you, perhaps.  Not to me.  I&#8217;m a plutocrat.  Five thousand
+dollars! What&#8217;s five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+pondered woodenly for a while.  His was a literal mind, and he knew
+nothing of Sally&#8217;s finances beyond the fact that when he had
+first met her she had come into a legacy of some kind.  Moreover, he
+had been hugely impressed by Fillmore&#8217;s magnificence.  It
+seemed plain enough that the Nicholases were a wealthy family.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t like it, you know,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t have to like it,&#8221; said Sally.  &#8220;You just do
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;d
+have to let me pay you interest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Let
+you? My lad, you&#8217;ll <i>have</i> to pay me interest.  What do
+you think this is&#8212;a round game? It&#8217;s a cold business
+deal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Topping!&#8221;
+said Ginger relieved.  &#8220;How about twenty-five per cent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be silly,&#8221; said Sally quickly.  &#8220;I want three.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+that&#8217;s all rot,&#8221; protested Ginger.  &#8220;I mean to say&#8212;
+three.  I don&#8217;t,&#8221; he went on, making a concession, &#8220;mind
+saying twenty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you insist, I&#8217;ll make it five.  Not more.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+ten, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Five!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Suppose,&#8221;
+said Ginger insinuatingly, &#8220;I said seven?&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+never saw anyone like you for haggling,&#8221; said Sally with
+disapproval.  &#8220;Listen! Six.  And that&#8217;s my last word.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Six?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Six.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+did sums in his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year.  It isn&#8217;t
+enough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do you know about it? As if I hadn&#8217;t been handling this sort of
+deal in my life.  Six! Do you agree?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+suppose so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Then
+that&#8217;s settled.  Is this man you talk about in New York?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+he&#8217;s down on Long Island at a place on the south shore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean, can you get him on the &#8216;phone and clinch the thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes.  I know his address, and I suppose his number&#8217;s in the
+book.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Then
+go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps him up.
+ Don&#8217;t waste a minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+paused at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, you&#8217;re absolutely sure about this?&#8217;&#8217;&#8217;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+mean to say...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Get
+on,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+window of Sally&#8217;s sitting-room looked out on to a street which,
+while not one of the city&#8217;s important arteries, was capable,
+nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to the
+observer: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper to
+the window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a third
+reading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world.  It
+was a beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped at
+the apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see her
+brother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior.  He paid the
+driver, and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a
+large shadow in the sunshine.  Sally was on the point of calling to
+him, when his behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From
+where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practising the
+steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would do next
+kept Sally watching in silence.  First, he moved in a resolute sort
+of way towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled
+back.  This movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep
+thought before making another dash for the door, which, like the
+others, came to an abrupt end as though he had run into some
+invisible obstacle.  And, finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off
+down the street and was lost to view.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+could make nothing of it.  If Fillmore had taken the trouble to come
+in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned the
+idea at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mystery
+when the telephone-bell rang, and her brother&#8217;s voice spoke
+huskily in her ear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo,
+Fill.  What are you going to call it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+am I... Call what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+dance you were doing outside here just now.  It&#8217;s your own
+invention, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Did
+you see me?&#8221; said Fillmore, upset.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Of
+course I saw you.  I was fascinated.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8212;er&#8212;I
+was coming to have a talk with you.  Sally...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fillmore&#8217;s
+voice trailed off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+why didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause&#8212;on Fillmore&#8217;s part, if the timbre of at his
+voice correctly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort.
+Something was plainly vexing Fillmore&#8217;s great mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally,&#8221;
+he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8212;that
+is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to see you
+very shortly.  Will you be in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+stay in.  How is Gladys? I&#8217;m longing to see her again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+is very well.  A trifle&#8212;a little upset.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Upset?
+What about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;She
+will tell you when she arrives.  I have just been &#8216;phoning to
+her.  She is coming at once.&#8221; There was another pause.  &#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid she has bad news.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+news?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was silence at the other end of the wire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+news?&#8221; repeated Sally, a little sharply.  She hated mysteries.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But
+Fillmore had rung off.  Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully.  She
+was puzzled and anxious.  However, there being nothing to be gained
+by worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and
+tried to divert herself by washing up.  Presently a ring at the
+door-bell brought her out, to find her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Marriage,
+even though it had brought with it the lofty position of partnership
+with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no noticeable
+alteration in the former Miss Winch.  As Mrs. Fillmore she was the
+same square, friendly creature.  She hugged Sally in a muscular
+manner and went on in the sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it&#8217;s great seeing you again,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;I began
+to think you were never coming back.  What was the big idea,
+springing over to England like that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had been expecting the question, and answered it with composure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+wanted to help Mr. Faucitt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who&#8217;s
+Mr. Faucitt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hasn&#8217;t
+Fillmore ever mentioned him? He was a dear old man at the
+boarding-house, and his brother died and left him a dressmaking
+establishment in London.  He screamed to me to come and tell him what
+to do about it.  He has sold it now and is quite happy in the
+country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+the trip&#8217;s done you good,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore.  &#8220;You&#8217;re
+prettier than ever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.  Already, in these trivial opening exchanges, Sally had
+sensed a suggestion of unwonted gravity in her companion.  She missed
+that careless whimsicality which had been the chief characteristic of
+Miss Gladys Winch and seemed to have been cast off by Mrs. Fillmore
+Nicholas.  At their meeting, before she had spoken, Sally had not
+noticed this, but now it was apparent that something was weighing on
+her companion.  Mrs. Fillmore&#8217;s honest eyes were troubled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+the bad news?&#8221; asked Sally abruptly.  She wanted to end the
+suspense.  &#8220;Fillmore was telling me over the &#8216;phone that
+you had some bad news for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Fillmore scratched at the carpet for a moment with the end of her
+parasol without replying.  When she spoke it was not in answer to the
+question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally,
+who&#8217;s this man Carmyle over in England?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+did Fillmore tell you about him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He
+told me there was a rich fellow over in England who was crazy about
+you and had asked you to marry him, and that you had turned him
+down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+momentary annoyance faded.  She could hardly, she felt, have expected
+Fillmore to refrain from mentioning the matter to his wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+she said.  &#8220;That&#8217;s true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+couldn&#8217;t write and say you&#8217;ve changed your mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+annoyance returned.  All her life she had been intensely independent,
+resentful of interference with her private concerns.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+suppose I could if I had&#8212;but I haven&#8217;t.  Did Fillmore
+tell you to try to talk me round?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+I&#8217;m not trying to talk you round,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore
+quickly.  &#8220;Goodness knows, I&#8217;m the last person to try and
+jolly anyone into marrying anybody if they didn&#8217;t feel like it.
+ I&#8217;ve seen too many marriages go wrong to do that.  Look at
+Elsa Doland.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally&#8217;s
+heart jumped as if an exposed nerve had been touched.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Elsa?&#8221;
+she stammered, and hated herself because her voice shook.  &#8220;Has&#8212;has
+her marriage gone wrong?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Gone
+all to bits,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore shortly.  &#8220;You remember
+she married Gerald Foster, the man who wrote  &#8216;The Primrose
+Way&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+with an effort repressed an hysterical laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+I remember,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it&#8217;s all gone bloo-ey.  I&#8217;ll tell you about that in a
+minute.  Coming back to this man in England, if you&#8217;re in any
+doubt about it... I mean, you can&#8217;t always tell right away
+whether you&#8217;re fond of a man or not... When first I met
+Fillmore, I couldn&#8217;t see him with a spy-glass, and now he&#8217;s
+just the whole shooting-match... But that&#8217;s not what I wanted
+to talk about.  I was saying one doesn&#8217;t always know one&#8217;s
+own mind at first, and if this fellow really is a good fellow... and
+Fillmore tells me he&#8217;s got all the money in the world...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stopped her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+it&#8217;s no good.  I don&#8217;t want to marry Mr. Carmyle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+that, then,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore.  &#8220;It&#8217;s a pity,
+though.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+are you taking it so much to heart?&#8221; said Sally with a nervous
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well...&#8221;
+Mrs. Fillmore paused.  Sally&#8217;s anxiety was growing.  It must,
+she realized, be something very serious indeed that had happened if
+it had the power to make her forthright sister-in-law disjointed in
+her talk.  &#8220;You see...&#8221; went on Mrs. Fillmore, and
+stopped again.  &#8220;Gee! I&#8217;m hating this!&#8221; she
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+is it? I don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;ll
+find it&#8217;s all too darned clear by the time I&#8217;m through,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Fillmore mournfully.  &#8220;If I&#8217;m going to explain
+this thing, I guess I&#8217;d best start at the beginning.  You
+remember that revue of Fillmore&#8217;s&#8212;the one we both begged
+him not to put on.  It flopped!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.
+ It flopped on the road and died there.  Never got to New York at
+all.  Ike Schumann wouldn&#8217;t let Fillmore have a theatre.  The
+book wanted fixing and the numbers wanted fixing and the scenery
+wasn&#8217;t right: and while they were tinkering with all that there
+was trouble about the cast and the Actors Equity closed the show.
+Best thing that could have happened, really, and I was glad at the
+time, because going on with it would only have meant wasting more
+money, and it had cost a fortune already.  After that Fillmore put on
+a play of Gerald Foster&#8217;s and that was a frost, too.  It ran a
+week at the Booth.  I hear the new piece he&#8217;s got in rehearsal
+now is no good either.  It&#8217;s called &#8216;The Wild Rose,&#8217;
+or something.  But Fillmore&#8217;s got nothing to do with that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But...&#8221;
+Sally tried to speak, but Mrs. Fillmore went on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+talk just yet, or I shall never get this thing straight.  Well, you
+know Fillmore, poor darling.  Anyone else would have pulled in his
+horns and gone slow for a spell, but he&#8217;s one of those fellows
+whose horse is always going to win the next race.  The big killing is
+always just round the corner with him.  Funny how you can see what a
+chump a man is and yet love him to death... I remember saying
+something like that to you before... He thought he could get it all
+back by staging this fight of his that came off in Jersey City last
+night.  And if everything had gone right he might have got afloat
+again.  But it seems as if he can&#8217;t touch anything without it
+turning to mud.  On the very day before the fight was to come off,
+the poor mutt who was going against the champion goes and lets a
+sparring-partner of his own knock him down and fool around with him.
+With all the newspaper men there too! You probably saw about it in
+the papers.  It made a great story for them.  Well, that killed the
+whole thing.  The public had never been any too sure that this fellow
+Bugs Butler had a chance of putting up a scrap with the champion that
+would be worth paying to see; and, when they read that he couldn&#8217;t
+even stop his sparring-partners slamming him all around the place
+they simply decided to stay away.  Poor old Fill! It was a finisher
+for him.  The house wasn&#8217;t a quarter full, and after he&#8217;d
+paid these two pluguglies their guarantees, which they insisted on
+having before they&#8217;d so much as go into the ring, he was just
+about cleaned out.  So there you are!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had listened with dismay to this catalogue of misfortunes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+poor Fill!&#8221; she cried.  &#8220;How dreadful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pretty
+tough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+&#8216;The Primrose Way&#8217; is a big success, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;
+said Sally, anxious to discover something of brightness in the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+was.&#8221; Mrs. Fillmore flushed again.  &#8220;This is the part I
+hate having to tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It
+was? Do you mean it isn&#8217;t still? I thought Elsa had made such a
+tremendous hit.  I read about it when I was over in London.  It was
+even in one of the English papers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+she made a hit all right,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore drily.  &#8220;She
+made such a hit that all the other managements in New York were after
+her right away, and Fillmore had hardly sailed when she handed in her
+notice and signed up with Goble and Cohn for a new piece they are
+starring her in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah,
+she couldn&#8217;t!&#8221; cried Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+dear, she did! She&#8217;s out on the road with it now.  I had to
+break the news to poor old Fillmore at the dock when he landed.  It
+was rather a blow.  I must say it wasn&#8217;t what I would call
+playing the game.  I know there isn&#8217;t supposed to be any
+sentiment in business, but after all we had given Elsa her big
+chance.  But Fillmore wouldn&#8217;t put her name up over the theatre
+in electrics, and Goble and Cohn made it a clause in her contract
+that they would, so nothing else mattered.  People are like that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+Elsa... She used not to be like that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;They
+all get that way.  They must grab success if it&#8217;s to be
+grabbed.  I suppose you can&#8217;t blame them.  You might just as
+well expect a cat to keep off catnip.  Still, she might have waited
+to the end of the New York run.&#8221; Mrs. Fillmore put out her hand
+and touched Sally&#8217;s.  &#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve got it out now,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;and, believe me, it was one rotten job.  You don&#8217;t
+know how sorry I am.  Sally.  I wouldn&#8217;t have had it happen for
+a million dollars.  Nor would Fillmore.  I&#8217;m not sure that I
+blame him for getting cold feet and backing out of telling you
+himself.  He just hadn&#8217;t the nerve to come and confess that he
+had fooled away your money.  He was hoping all along that this fight
+would pan out big and that he&#8217;d be able to pay you back what
+you had loaned him, but things didn&#8217;t happen right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was silent.  She was thinking how strange it was that this room in
+which she had hoped to be so happy had been from the first moment of
+her occupancy a storm centre of bad news and miserable
+disillusionment.  In this first shock of the tidings, it was the
+disillusionment that hurt most.  She had always been so fond of Elsa,
+and Elsa had always seemed so fond of her.  She remembered that
+letter of Elsa&#8217;s with all its protestations of gratitude... It
+wasn&#8217;t straight.  It was horrible.  Callous, selfish,
+altogether horrible...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s...&#8221;
+She choked, as a rush of indignation brought the tears to her eyes.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s... beastly! I&#8217;m... I&#8217;m not thinking
+about my money.  That&#8217;s just bad luck.  But Elsa...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Fillmore shrugged her square shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+it&#8217;s happening all the time in the show business,&#8221; she
+said.  &#8220;And in every other business, too, I guess, if one only
+knew enough about them to be able to say.  Of course, it hits you
+hard because Elsa was a pal of yours, and you&#8217;re thinking she
+might have considered you after all you&#8217;ve done for her.  I
+can&#8217;t say I&#8217;m much surprised myself.&#8221; Mrs. Fillmore
+was talking rapidly, and dimly Sally understood that she was talking
+so that talk would carry her over this bad moment.  Silence now would
+have been unendurable.  &#8220;I was in the company with her, and it
+sometimes seems to me as if you can&#8217;t get to know a person
+right through till you&#8217;ve been in the same company with them.
+Elsa&#8217;s all right, but she&#8217;s two people really, like these
+dual identity cases you read about.  She&#8217;s awfully fond of you.
+ I know she is.  She was always saying so, and it was quite genuine.
+If it didn&#8217;t interfere with business there&#8217;s nothing she
+wouldn&#8217;t do for you.  But when it&#8217;s a case of her career
+you don&#8217;t count.  Nobody counts.  Not even her husband.  Now
+that&#8217;s funny.  If you think that sort of thing funny.
+Personally, it gives me the willies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+funny?&#8221; asked Sally, dully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+you weren&#8217;t there, so you didn&#8217;t see it, but I was on the
+spot all the time, and I know as well as I know anything that he
+simply married her because he thought she could get him on in the
+game.  He hardly paid any attention to her at all till she was such a
+riot in Chicago, and then he was all over her.  And now he&#8217;s
+got stung.  She throws down his show and goes off to another
+fellow&#8217;s.  It&#8217;s like marrying for money and finding the
+girl hasn&#8217;t any.  And she&#8217;s got stung, too, in a way,
+because I&#8217;m pretty sure she married him mostly because she
+thought he was going to be the next big man in the play-writing
+business and could boost her up the ladder.  And now it doesn&#8217;t
+look as though he had another success in him.  The result is they&#8217;re
+at outs.  I hear he&#8217;s drinking.  Somebody who&#8217;d seen him
+told me he had gone all to pieces.  You haven&#8217;t seen him, I
+suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought maybe you might have run into him.  He lives right opposite.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+clutched at the arm of her chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Lives
+right opposite? Gerald Foster? What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Across
+the passage there,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore, jerking her thumb at
+the door.  &#8220;Didn&#8217;t you know? That&#8217;s right, I
+suppose you didn&#8217;t.  They moved in after you had beaten it for
+England.  Elsa wanted to be near you, and she was tickled to death
+when she found there was an apartment to be had right across from
+you.  Now, that just proves what I was saying a while ago about Elsa.
+ If she wasn&#8217;t fond of you, would she go out of her way to camp
+next door? And yet, though she&#8217;s so fond of you, she doesn&#8217;t
+hesitate about wrecking your property by quitting the show when she
+sees a chance of doing herself a bit of good.  It&#8217;s funny,
+isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+telephone-bell, tinkling sharply, rescued Sally from the necessity of
+a reply.  She forced herself across the room to answer it.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger&#8217;s
+voice spoke jubilantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo.
+ Are you there? I say, it&#8217;s all right, about that binge, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+dog fellow, you know,&#8221; said Ginger, with a slight diminution of
+exuberance.  His sensitive ear had seemed to detect a lack of
+animation in her voice.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve just been talking to him
+over the &#8216;phone, and it&#8217;s all settled.  If,&#8221; he
+added, with a touch of doubt, &#8220;you still feel like going into
+it, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was an instant in which Sally hesitated, but it was only an instant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+of course,&#8221; she said, steadily.  &#8220;Why should you think I
+had changed my mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I thought... that is to say, you seemed... oh, I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+imagine things.  I was a little worried about something when you
+called me up, and my mind wasn&#8217;t working properly.  Of course,
+go ahead with it.  Ginger.  I&#8217;m delighted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, I&#8217;m awfully sorry you&#8217;re worried.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh.
+ it&#8217;s all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Something
+bad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nothing
+that&#8217;ll kill me.  I&#8217;m young and strong.&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+was silent for a moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, I don&#8217;t want to butt in, but can I do anything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+really, Ginger, I know you would do anything you could, but this is
+just something I must worry through by myself.  When do you go down
+to this place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was thinking of popping down this afternoon, just to take a look
+round.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Let
+me know what train you&#8217;re making and I&#8217;ll come and see
+you off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+ripping of you.  Right ho.  Well, so long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So
+long,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Fillmore, who had been sitting in that state of suspended animation
+which comes upon people who are present at a telephone conversation
+which has nothing to do with themselves, came to life as Sally
+replaced the receiver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;I think we ought to have a talk now about what
+you&#8217;re going to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was not feeling equal to any discussion of the future.   All she
+asked of the world at the moment was to be left alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+that&#8217;s all right.  I shall manage.  You ought to be worrying
+about Fillmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore&#8217;s
+got me to look after him,&#8221; said Gladys, with quiet
+determination.  &#8220;You&#8217;re the one that&#8217;s on my mind.
+I lay awake all last night thinking about you.  As far as I can make
+out from Fillmore, you&#8217;ve still a few thousand dollars left.
+Well, as it happens, I can put you on to a really good thing.  I know
+a girl...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid,&#8221; interrupted Sally, &#8220;all the rest of my money,
+what there is of it, is tied up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+can&#8217;t get hold of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+listen,&#8221; said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently.  &#8220;This is a really
+good thing.  This girl I know started an interior decorating business
+some time ago and is pulling in the money in handfuls.  But she wants
+more capital, and she&#8217;s willing to let go of a third of the
+business to anyone who&#8217;ll put in a few thousand.  She won&#8217;t
+have any difficulty getting it, but I &#8216;phoned her this morning
+to hold off till I&#8217;d heard from you.  Honestly, Sally, it&#8217;s
+the chance of a lifetime.  It would put you right on easy street.
+Isn&#8217;t there really any way you could get your money out of this
+other thing and take on this deal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+really isn&#8217;t.  I&#8217;m awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear,
+but it&#8217;s impossible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her
+parasol, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know what you&#8217;ve gone into, but,
+unless they&#8217;ve given you a share in the Mint or something,
+you&#8217;ll be losing by not making the switch.  You&#8217;re sure
+you can&#8217;t do it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+really can&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+you know best, of course.  Gosh! What a muddle everything is.
+Sally,&#8221; she said, suddenly stopping at the door, &#8220;you&#8217;re
+not going to hate poor old Fillmore over this, are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why,
+of course not.  The whole thing was just bad luck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;He&#8217;s
+worried stiff about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+give him my love, and tell him not to be so silly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs.
+Fillmore crossed the room and kissed Sally impulsively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+an angel,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;I wish there were more like you.
+But I guess they&#8217;ve lost the pattern.  Well, I&#8217;ll go back
+and tell Fillmore that.  It&#8217;ll relieve him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+door closed, and Sally sat down with her chin in her hands to think.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Isadore Abrahams, the founder and proprietor of that deservedly
+popular dancing resort poetically named &#8220;The Flower Garden,&#8221;
+leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh and laid down the
+knife and fork with which he had been assailing a plateful of
+succulent goulash.  He was dining, as was his admirable custom, in
+the bosom of his family at his residence at Far Rockaway.  Across the
+table, his wife, Rebecca, beamed at him over her comfortable plinth
+of chins, and round the table his children, David, Jacob, Morris and
+Saide, would have beamed at him if they had not been too busy at the
+moment ingurgitating goulash.  A genial, honest, domestic man was Mr.
+Abrahams, a credit to the community.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mother,&#8221;
+he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pa?&#8221;
+said Mrs. Abrahams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Knew
+there was something I&#8217;d meant to tell you,&#8221; said Mr.
+Abrahams, absently chasing a piece of bread round his plate with a
+stout finger.  &#8220;You remember that girl I told you about some
+time back&#8212;girl working at the Garden&#8212;girl called
+Nicholas, who came into a bit of money and threw up her job...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+remember.  You liked her.  Jakie, dear, don&#8217;t gobble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ain&#8217;t
+gobbling,&#8221; said Master Abrahams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Everybody
+liked her,&#8221; said Mr. Abrahams.  &#8220;The nicest girl I ever
+hired, and I don&#8217;t hire none but nice girls, because the
+Garden&#8217;s a nice place, and I like to run it nice.  I wouldn&#8217;t
+give you a nickel for any of your tough joints where you get nothing
+but low-lifes and scare away all the real folks.  Everybody liked
+Sally Nicholas.  Always pleasant and always smiling, and never
+anything but the lady.  It was a treat to have her around.  Well,
+what do you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Dead?&#8221;
+inquired Mrs. Abrahams, apprehensively.  The story had sounded to her
+as though it were heading that way.  &#8220;Wipe your mouth, Jakie
+dear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+not dead,&#8221; said Mr. Abrahams, conscious for the first time that
+the remainder of his narrative might be considered by a critic
+something of an anti-climax and lacking in drama.  &#8220;But she was
+in to see me this afternoon and wants her job back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+said Mrs. Abrahams, rather tonelessly.  An ardent supporter of the
+local motion-picture palace, she had hoped for a slightly more
+gingery <i>denouement,</i> something with a bit more punch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+but don&#8217;t it show you?&#8221; continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly
+trying to work up the interest.  &#8220;There&#8217;s this girl, goes
+out of my place not more&#8217;n a year ago, with a good bank-roll in
+her pocket, and here she is, back again, all of it spent.  Don&#8217;t
+it show you what a tragedy life is, if you see what I mean, and how
+careful one ought to be about money? It&#8217;s what I call a human
+document.  Goodness knows how she&#8217;s been and gone and spent it
+all.  I&#8217;d never have thought she was the sort of girl to go
+gadding around.  Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+gadding, Pop?&#8221; asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
+chain his interest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
+back again.  There&#8217;s class to that girl.  She&#8217;s the sort
+of girl I want in the place.  Don&#8217;t seem quite to have so much
+get-up in her as she used to... seems kind of quieted down... but
+she&#8217;s got class, and I&#8217;m glad she&#8217;s back.  I hope
+she&#8217;ll stay.  But don&#8217;t it show you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before.  It had not
+worked out such a bad story after all.  In its essentials it was not
+unlike the film she had seen the previous evening&#8212;Gloria Gooch
+in &#8220;A Girl against the World.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pop!&#8221;
+said Master Abrahams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+Jakie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+I&#8217;m grown up, I won&#8217;t never lose no money.  I&#8217;ll
+put it in the bank and save it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally&#8217;s
+troubles left Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+a good boy, Jakie,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and
+bent forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+is in certain men&#8212;and Bruce Carmyle was one of them&#8212;a
+quality of resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which
+aids them as effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of
+a sterner and more practical kind.  As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle
+resembled that durable type of pugilist who can only give of his best
+after he has received at least one substantial wallop on some tender
+spot.  Although Sally had refused his offer of marriage quite
+definitely at Monk&#8217;s Crofton, it had never occurred to him to
+consider the episode closed.  All his life he had been accustomed to
+getting what he wanted, and he meant to get it now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was quite sure that he wanted Sally.  There had been moments when he
+had been conscious of certain doubts, but in the smart of temporary
+defeat these had vanished.  That streak of Bohemianism in her which
+from time to time since their first meeting had jarred upon his
+orderly mind was forgotten; and all that Mr. Carmyle could remember
+was the brightness of her eyes, the jaunty lift of her chin, and the
+gallant trimness of her.  Her gay prettiness seemed to flick at him
+like a whip in the darkness of wakeful nights, lashing him to
+pursuit.  And quietly and methodically, like a respectable wolf
+settling on the trail of a Red Riding Hood, he prepared to pursue.
+Delicacy and imagination might have kept him back, but in these
+qualities he had never been strong.  One cannot have everything.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+preparations for departure, though he did his best to make them
+swiftly and secretly, did not escape the notice of the Family.  In
+many English families there seems to exist a system of
+inter-communication and news-distribution like that of those savage
+tribes in Africa who pass the latest item of news and interest from
+point to point over miles of intervening jungle by some telepathic
+method never properly explained.  On his last night in London, there
+entered to Bruce Carmyle at his apartment in South Audley Street, the
+Family&#8217;s chosen representative, the man to whom the Family
+pointed with pride&#8212;Uncle Donald, in the flesh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+were two hundred and forty pounds of the flesh Uncle Donald was in,
+and the chair in which he deposited it creaked beneath its burden.
+Once, at Monk&#8217;s Crofton, Sally had spoiled a whole morning for
+her brother Fillmore, by indicating Uncle Donald as the exact image
+of what he would be when he grew up.  A superstition, cherished from
+early schooldays, that he had a weak heart had caused the Family&#8217;s
+managing director to abstain from every form of exercise for nearly
+fifty years; and, as he combined with a distaste for exercise one of
+the three heartiest appetites in the south-western postal division of
+London, Uncle Donald, at sixty-two, was not a man one would willingly
+have lounging in one&#8217;s armchairs.  Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s
+customary respectfulness was tinged with something approaching
+dislike as he looked at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle
+Donald&#8217;s walrus moustache heaved gently upon his laboured
+breath, like seaweed on a ground-swell.  There had been stairs to
+climb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+this? What&#8217;s this?&#8221; he contrived to ejaculate at last.
+&#8220;You packing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Mr. Carmyle, shortly.  For the first time in his life he was
+conscious of that sensation of furtive guilt which was habitual with
+his cousin Ginger when in the presence of this large, mackerel-eyed
+man.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+going away?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Where
+you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;America.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To-morrow
+morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This
+dialogue has been set down as though it had been as brisk and snappy
+as any cross-talk between vaudeville comedians, but in reality Uncle
+Donald&#8217;s peculiar methods of conversation had stretched it over
+a period of nearly three minutes: for after each reply and before
+each question he had puffed and sighed and inhaled his moustache with
+such painful deliberation that his companion&#8217;s nerves were
+finding it difficult to bear up under the strain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+going after that girl,&#8221; said Uncle Donald, accusingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle flushed darkly.  And it is interesting to record that at this
+moment there flitted through his mind the thought that Ginger&#8217;s
+behaviour at Bleke&#8217;s Coffee House, on a certain notable
+occasion, had not been so utterly inexcusable as he had supposed.
+There was no doubt that the Family&#8217;s Chosen One could be
+trying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Will
+you have a whisky and soda, Uncle Donald?&#8221; he said, by way of
+changing the conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said his relative, in pursuance of a vow he had made in the early
+eighties never to refuse an offer of this kind.  &#8220;Gimme!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">You
+would have thought that that would have put matters on a pleasanter
+footing.  But no.  Having lapped up the restorative, Uncle Donald
+returned to the attack quite un-softened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Never
+thought you were a fool before,&#8221; he said severely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle&#8217;s proud spirit chafed.  This sort of interview, which
+had become a commonplace with his cousin Ginger, was new to him.
+Hitherto, his actions had received neither criticism nor been
+subjected to it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+not a fool.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+<i>are</i> a fool.  A damn fool,&#8221; continued Uncle Donald,
+specifying more exactly.  &#8220;Don&#8217;t like the girl.  Never
+did.  Not a nice girl.  Didn&#8217;t like her.  Right from the
+first.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Need
+we discuss this?&#8221; said Bruce Carmyle, dropping, as he was apt
+to do, into the grand manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+Head of the Family drank in a layer of moustache and blew it out
+again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Need
+we discuss it?&#8221; he said with asperity.  &#8220;We&#8217;re
+<i>going to</i> discuss it! Whatch think I climbed all these blasted
+stairs for with my weak heart? Gimme another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle gave him another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;&#8216;S
+a bad business,&#8221; moaned Uncle Donald, having gone through the
+movements once more.  &#8220;Shocking bad business.  If your poor
+father were alive, whatch think he&#8217;d say to your tearing across
+the world after this girl? I&#8217;ll tell you what he&#8217;d say.
+He&#8217;d say... What kind of whisky&#8217;s this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;O&#8217;Rafferty
+Special.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;New
+to me.  Not bad.  Quite good.  Sound.  Mellow.  Wherej get it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bilby&#8217;s
+in Oxford Street.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Must
+order some.  Mellow.  He&#8217;d say... well, God knows <i>what</i>
+he&#8217;d say.  Whatch doing it for? Whatch doing it for? That&#8217;s
+what I can&#8217;t see.  None of us can see.  Puzzles your uncle
+George.  Baffles your aunt Geraldine.  Nobody can understand it.
+Girl&#8217;s simply after your money.  Anyone can see that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pardon
+me, Uncle Donald,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle, stiffly, &#8220;but that
+is surely rather absurd.  If that were the case, why should she have
+refused me at Monk&#8217;s Crofton?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Drawing
+you on,&#8221; said Uncle Donald, promptly.  &#8220;Luring you on.
+Well-known trick.  Girl in 1881, when I was at Oxford, tried to lure
+<i>me</i> on.  If I hadn&#8217;t had some sense and a weak heart...
+Whatch know of this girl? Whatch <i>know</i> of her? That&#8217;s the
+point.  Who <i>is</i> she? Wherej meet her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+met her at Roville, in France.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Travelling
+with her family?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Travelling
+alone,&#8221; said Bruce Carmyle, reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+even with that brother of hers? Bad!&#8221; said Uncle Donald.  &#8220;Bad,
+bad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;American
+girls are accustomed to more independence than English girls.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+young man,&#8221; said Uncle Donald, pursuing a train of thought, &#8220;is
+going to be <i>fat</i> one of these days, if he doesn&#8217;t look
+out.  Travelling alone, was she? What did you do? Catch her eye on
+the pier?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Really,
+Uncle Donald!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+must have got to know her somehow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was introduced to her by Lancelot.  She was a friend of his.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Lancelot!&#8221;
+exploded Uncle Donald, quivering all over like a smitten jelly at the
+loathed name.  &#8220;Well, that shows you what sort of a girl she
+is.  Any girl that would be a friend of... Unpack!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+beg your pardon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Unpack!
+Mustn&#8217;t go on with this foolery.  Out of the question.  Find
+some girl make you a good wife.  Your aunt Mary&#8217;s been meeting
+some people name of Bassington-Bassington, related Kent
+Bassington-Bassingtons... eldest daughter charming girl, just do for
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outside
+the pages of the more old-fashioned type of fiction nobody ever
+really ground his teeth, but Bruce Carmyle came nearer to it at that
+moment than anyone had ever come before.  He scowled blackly, and the
+last trace of suavity left him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shall do nothing of the kind,&#8221; he said briefly.  &#8220;I sail
+to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle
+Donald had had a previous experience of being defied by a nephew, but
+it had not accustomed him to the sensation.  He was aware of an
+unpleasant feeling of impotence.  Nothing is harder than to know what
+to do next when defied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Eh?&#8221;
+he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle having started to defy, evidently decided to make a good job
+of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+am over twenty-one,&#8221; said he.  &#8220;I am financially
+independent.  I shall do as I please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+consider!&#8221; pleaded Uncle Donald, painfully conscious of the
+weakness of his words.  &#8220;Reflect!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+have reflected.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Your
+position in the county...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+thought of that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+could marry anyone you pleased.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+are determined to go running off to God-knows-where after this Miss
+I-can&#8217;t-even-remember-her-dam-name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Have
+you considered,&#8221; said Uncle Donald, portentously, &#8220;that
+you owe a duty to the Family.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle&#8217;s patience snapped and he sank like a stone to
+absolutely Gingerian depths of plain-spokenness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+damn the Family!&#8221; he cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a painful silence, broken only by the relieved sigh of the
+armchair as Uncle Donald heaved himself out of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;After
+that,&#8221; said Uncle Donald, &#8220;I have nothing more to say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good!&#8221;
+said Mr. Carmyle rudely, lost to all shame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;&#8217;Cept
+this.  If you come back married to that girl, I&#8217;ll cut you in
+Piccadilly.  By George, I will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+moved to the door.  Bruce Carmyle looked down his nose without
+speaking.  A tense moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What,&#8221;
+asked Uncle Donald, his fingers on the handle, &#8220;did you say it
+was called?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+was what called?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+whisky.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;O&#8217;Rafferty
+Special.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+wherj get it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bilby&#8217;s,
+in Oxford Street.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ll
+make a note of it,&#8221; said Uncle Donald.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">AT THE FLOWER GARDEN</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+after all I&#8217;ve done for her,&#8221; said Mr. Reginald
+Cracknell, his voice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with
+the combined effects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated
+private stock, &#8220;after all I&#8217;ve done for her she throws me
+down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not reply.  The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of a calibre
+that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having, moreover, too
+much difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell&#8217;s
+erratic dance-steps to employ her attention elsewhere.  They
+manoeuvred jerkily past the table where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower
+Garden&#8217;s newest &#8220;hostess,&#8221; sat watching the revels
+with a distant hauteur.  Miss Hobson was looking her most regal in
+old gold and black, and a sorrowful gulp escaped the stricken Mr.
+Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+I told you,&#8221; he moaned in Sally&#8217;s ear, &#8220;what... was
+that your ankle? Sorry! Don&#8217;t know what I&#8217;m doing
+to-night... If I told you what I had spent on that woman, you
+wouldn&#8217;t believe it.  And then she throws me down.  And all
+because I said I didn&#8217;t like her in that hat.  She hasn&#8217;t
+spoken to me for a week, and won&#8217;t answer when I call up on the
+&#8216;phone.  And I was right, too.  It was a rotten hat.  Didn&#8217;t
+suit her a bit.  But that,&#8221; said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, &#8220;is
+a woman all over!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on hers
+before she could get it out of the way.  Mr. Cracknell interpreted
+the ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his
+last remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t mean you&#8217;re like that,&#8221; he said.  &#8220;You&#8217;re
+different.  I could see that directly I saw you.  You have a
+sympathetic nature.  That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m telling you all this.
+ You&#8217;re a sensible and broad-minded girl and can understand.
+I&#8217;ve done everything for that woman.  I got her this job as
+hostess here&#8212;you wouldn&#8217;t believe what they pay her.  I
+starred her in a show once.  Did you see those pearls she was
+wearing? I gave her those.  And she won&#8217;t speak to me.  Just
+because I didn&#8217;t like her hat.  I wish you could have seen that
+hat.  You would agree with me, I know, because you&#8217;re a
+sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats.  I don&#8217;t know
+what to do.  I come here every night.&#8221; Sally was aware of this.
+ She had seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee
+Schoenstein, the gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him
+on her.  &#8220;I come here every night and dance past her table, but
+she won&#8217;t look at me.  What,&#8221; asked Mr. Cracknell, tears
+welling in his pale eyes, &#8220;would you do about it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Sally, frankly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Nor
+do I.  I thought you wouldn&#8217;t, because you&#8217;re a sensible,
+broad-minded... I mean, nor do I.  I&#8217;m having one last try
+to-night, if you can keep a secret.  You won&#8217;t tell anyone,
+will you?&#8221; pleaded Mr. Cracknell, urgently.  &#8220;But I know
+you won&#8217;t because you&#8217;re a sensible... I&#8217;m giving
+her a little present.  Having it brought here to-night.  Little
+present.  That ought to soften her, don&#8217;t you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+big one would do it better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Cracknell kicked her on the shin in a dismayed sort of way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+never thought of that.  Perhaps you&#8217;re right.  But it&#8217;s
+too late now.  Still, it might.  Or wouldn&#8217;t it? Which do you
+think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+thought as much,&#8221; said Mr. Cracknell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+orchestra stopped with a thump and a bang, leaving Mr. Cracknell
+clapping feebly in the middle of the floor.  Sally slipped back to
+her table.  Her late partner, after an uncertain glance about him, as
+if he had mislaid something but could not remember what, zigzagged
+off in search of his own seat.  The noise of many conversations,
+drowned by the music, broke out with renewed vigour.  The hot, close
+air was full of voices; and Sally, pressing her hands on her closed
+eyes, was reminded once more that she had a headache.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nearly
+a month had passed since her return to Mr. Abrahams&#8217;
+employment.  It had been a dull, leaden month, a monotonous
+succession of lifeless days during which life had become a bad dream.
+ In some strange nightmare fashion, she seemed nowadays to be cut off
+from her kind.  It was weeks since she had seen a familiar face.
+None of the companions of her old boarding-house days had crossed her
+path.  Fillmore, no doubt from uneasiness of conscience, had not
+sought her out, and Ginger was working out his destiny on the south
+shore of Long Island.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+lowered her hands and opened her eyes and looked at the room.  It was
+crowded, as always.  The Flower Garden was one of the many
+establishments of the same kind which had swum to popularity on the
+rising flood of New York&#8217;s dancing craze; and doubtless
+because, as its proprietor had claimed, it was a nice place and run
+nice, it had continued, unlike many of its rivals, to enjoy unvarying
+prosperity.  In its advertisement, it described itself as &#8220;a
+supper-club for after-theatre dining and dancing,&#8221; adding that
+&#8220;large and spacious, and sumptuously appointed,&#8221; it was
+&#8220;one of the town&#8217;s wonder-places, with its incomparable
+dance-floor, enchanting music, cuisine, and service de luxe.&#8221;
+From which it may be gathered, even without his personal statements
+to that effect, that Isadore Abrahams thought well of the place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+had been a time when Sally had liked it, too.  In her first period of
+employment there she had found it diverting, stimulating and full of
+entertainment.  But in those days she had never had headaches or,
+what was worse, this dreadful listless depression which weighed her
+down and made her nightly work a burden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+orchestra, never silent for long at the Flower Garden, had started
+again, and Lee Schoenstein, the master of ceremonies, was presenting
+a new partner.  She got up mechanically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;This
+is the first time I have been in this place,&#8221; said the man, as
+they bumped over the crowded floor.  He was big and clumsy, of
+course.  To-night it seemed to Sally that the whole world was big and
+clumsy.  &#8220;It&#8217;s a swell place.  I come from up-state
+myself.  We got nothing like this where I come from.&#8221; He
+cleared a space before him, using Sally as a battering-ram, and
+Sally, though she had not enjoyed her recent excursion with Mr.
+Cracknell, now began to look back to it almost with wistfulness.
+This man was undoubtedly the worst dancer in America.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Give
+me li&#8217;l old New York,&#8221; said the man from up-state,
+unpatriotically.  &#8220;It&#8217;s good enough for me.  I been to
+some swell shows since I got to town.  You seen this year&#8217;s
+&#8216;Follies&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+go,&#8221; said the man earnestly.  &#8220;You <i>go!</i> Take it
+from me, it&#8217;s a swell show.  You seen &#8216;Myrtle takes a
+Turkish Bath&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t go to many theatres.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+go! It&#8217;s a scream.  I been to a show every night since I got
+here.  Every night regular.  Swell shows all of &#8216;em, except
+this last one.  I cert&#8217;nly picked a lemon to-night all right.
+I was taking a chance, y&#8217;see, because it was an opening.
+Thought it would be something to say, when I got home, that I&#8217;d
+been to a New York opening.  Set me back two-seventy-five, including
+tax, and I wish I&#8217;d got it in my kick right now.  &#8216;The
+Wild Rose,&#8217; they called it,&#8221; he said satirically, as if
+exposing a low subterfuge on the part of the management.  &#8220;&#8217;The
+Wild Rose!&#8217; It sure made me wild all right.  Two dollars
+seventy-five tossed away, just like that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something
+stirred in Sally&#8217;s memory.  Why did that title seem so
+familiar? Then, with a shock, she remembered.  It was Gerald&#8217;s
+new play.  For some time after her return to New York, she had been
+haunted by the fear lest, coming out other apartment, she might meet
+him coming out of his; and then she had seen a paragraph in her
+morning paper which had relieved her of this apprehension.  Gerald
+was out on the road with a new play, and &#8220;The Wild Rose,&#8221;
+she was almost sure, was the name of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+that Gerald Foster&#8217;s play?&#8221; she asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know who wrote it,&#8221; said her partner, &#8220;but
+let me tell you he&#8217;s one lucky guy to get away alive.  There&#8217;s
+fellows breaking stones on the Ossining Road that&#8217;s done a lot
+less to deserve a sentence.  Wild Rose! I&#8217;ll tell the world it
+made me go good and wild,&#8221; said the man from up-state, an
+economical soul who disliked waste and was accustomed to spread out
+his humorous efforts so as to give them every chance.  &#8220;Why,
+before the second act was over, the people were beating it for the
+exits, and if it hadn&#8217;t been for someone shouting &#8216;Women
+and children first&#8217; there&#8217;d have been a panic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+found herself back at her table without knowing clearly how she had
+got there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+started to rise, and was aware suddenly that this was not the voice
+of duty calling her once more through the gold teeth of Mr.
+Schoenstein.  The man who had spoken her name had seated himself
+beside her, and was talking in precise, clipped accents, oddly
+familiar.  The mist cleared from her eyes and she recognized Bruce
+Carmyle.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+called at your place,&#8221; Mr. Carmyle was saying, &#8220;and the
+hall porter told me that you were here, so I ventured to follow you.
+I hope you do not mind? May I smoke?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+lit a cigarette with something of an air.  His fingers trembled as he
+raised the match, but he flattered himself that there was nothing
+else in his demeanour to indicate that he was violently excited.
+Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s ideal was the strong man who can rise superior
+to his emotions.  He was alive to the fact that this was an
+embarrassing moment, but he was determined not to show that he
+appreciated it.  He cast a sideways glance at Sally, and thought that
+never, not even in the garden at Monk&#8217;s Crofton on a certain
+momentous occasion, had he seen her looking prettier.  Her face was
+flushed and her eyes aflame.  The stout wraith of Uncle Donald, which
+had accompanied Mr. Carmyle on this expedition of his, faded into
+nothingness as he gazed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.  Mr. Carmyle, having lighted his cigarette, puffed
+vigorously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;When
+did you land?&#8221; asked Sally, feeling the need of saying
+something.  Her mind was confused.  She could not have said whether
+she was glad or sorry that he was there.  Glad, she thought, on the
+whole.  There was something in his dark, cool, stiff English aspect
+that gave her a curious feeling of relief.  He was so unlike Mr.
+Cracknell and the man from up-state and so calmly remote from the
+feverish atmosphere in which she lived her nights that it was restful
+to look at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+landed to-night,&#8221; said Bruce Carmyle, turning and faced her
+squarely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To-night!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We
+docked at ten.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+turned away again.  He had made his effect, and was content to leave
+her to think it over.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was silent.  The significance of his words had not escaped her.  She
+realized that his presence there was a challenge which she must
+answer.  And yet it hardly stirred her.  She had been fighting so
+long, and she felt utterly inert.  She was like a swimmer who can
+battle no longer and prepares to yield to the numbness of exhaustion.
+ The heat of the room pressed down on her like a smothering blanket.
+Her tired nerves cried out under the blare of music and the clatter
+of voices.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Shall
+we dance this?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+orchestra had started to play again, a sensuous, creamy melody which
+was making the most of its brief reign as Broadway&#8217;s leading
+song-hit, overfamiliar to her from a hundred repetitions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Efficiency
+was Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s gospel.  He was one of these men who do not
+attempt anything which they cannot accomplish to perfection.
+Dancing, he had decided early in his life, was a part of a
+gentleman&#8217;s education, and he had seen to it that he was
+educated thoroughly.  Sally, who, as they swept out on to the floor,
+had braced herself automatically for a repetition of the usual
+bumping struggle which dancing at the Flower Garden had come to mean
+for her, found herself in the arms of a masterful expert, a man who
+danced better than she did, and suddenly there came to her a feeling
+that was almost gratitude, a miraculous slackening of her taut
+nerves, a delicious peace.  Soothed and contented, she yielded
+herself with eyes half closed to the rhythm of the melody, finding it
+now robbed in some mysterious manner of all its stale cheapness, and
+in that moment her whole attitude towards Bruce Carmyle underwent a
+complete change.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had never troubled to examine with any minuteness her feelings
+towards him: but one thing she had known clearly since their first
+meeting&#8212;that he was physically distasteful to her.  For all his
+good looks, and in his rather sinister way he was a handsome man, she
+had shrunk from him.  Now, spirited away by the magic of the dance,
+that repugnance had left her.  It was as if some barrier had been
+broken down between them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+felt his arm tighten about her, the muscles quivering.  She caught
+sight of his face.  His dark eyes suddenly blazed into hers and she
+stumbled with an odd feeling of helplessness; realizing with a shock
+that brought her with a jerk out of the half-dream into which she had
+been lulled that this dance had not postponed the moment of decision,
+as she had looked to it to do.  In a hot whisper, the words swept
+away on the flood of the music which had suddenly become raucous and
+blaring once more, he was repeating what he had said under the trees
+at Monk&#8217;s Crofton on that far-off morning in the English
+springtime.  Dizzily she knew that she was resenting the unfairness
+of the attack at such a moment, but her mind seemed numbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+music stopped abruptly.  Insistent clapping started it again, but
+Sally moved away to her table, and he followed her like a shadow.
+Neither spoke.  Bruce Carmyle had said his say, and Sally was sitting
+staring before her, trying to think.  She was tired, tired.  Her eyes
+were burning.  She tried to force herself to face the situation
+squarely.  Was it worth struggling? Was anything in the world worth a
+struggle? She only knew that she was tired, desperately tired, tired
+to the very depths of her soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+music stopped.  There was more clapping, but this time the orchestra
+did not respond.  Gradually the floor emptied.  The shuffling of feet
+ceased.  The Flower Garden was as quiet as it was ever able to be.
+Even the voices of the babblers seemed strangely hushed.  Sally
+closed her eyes, and as she did so from somewhere up near the roof
+there came the song of a bird.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Isadore
+Abrahams was a man of his word.  He advertised a Flower Garden, and
+he had tried to give the public something as closely resembling a
+flower-garden as it was possible for an overcrowded, overheated,
+overnoisy Broadway dancing-resort to achieve.  Paper roses festooned
+the walls; genuine tulips bloomed in tubs by every pillar; and from
+the roof hung cages with birds in them.  One of these, stirred by the
+sudden cessation of the tumult below, had began to sing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had often pitied these birds, and more than once had pleaded in vain
+with Abrahams for a remission of their sentence, but somehow at this
+moment it did not occur to her that this one was merely praying in
+its own language, as she often had prayed in her thoughts, to be
+taken out of this place.  To her, sitting there wrestling with Fate,
+the song seemed cheerful.  It soothed her.  It healed her to listen
+to it.  And suddenly before her eyes there rose a vision of Monk&#8217;s
+Crofton, cool, green, and peaceful under the mild English sun, luring
+her as an oasis seen in the distance lures the desert traveller &#8230;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+became aware that the master of Monk&#8217;s Crofton had placed his
+hand on hers and was holding it in a tightening grip.  She looked
+down and gave a little shiver.  She had always disliked Bruce
+Carmyle&#8217;s hands.  They were strong and bony and black hair grew
+on the back of them.  One of the earliest feelings regarding him had
+been that she would hate to have those hands touching her.  But she
+did not move.  Again that vision of the old garden had flickered
+across her mind... a haven where she could rest...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear.  The room was hotter
+than it had ever been, noisier than it had ever been, fuller than it
+had ever been.  The bird on the roof was singing again and now she
+understood what it said.  &#8220;Take me out of this!&#8221; Did
+anything matter except that? What did it matter how one was taken, or
+where, or by whom, so that one was taken.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Monk&#8217;s
+Crofton was looking cool and green and peaceful...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very well,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle, in the capacity of accepted suitor, found himself at
+something of a loss.  He had a dissatisfied feeling.  It was not the
+manner of Sally&#8217;s acceptance that caused this.  It would, of
+course, have pleased him better if she had shown more warmth, but he
+was prepared to wait for warmth.  What did trouble him was the fact
+that his correct mind perceived now for the first time that he had
+chosen an unsuitable moment and place for his outburst of emotion.
+He belonged to the orthodox school of thought which looks on
+moonlight and solitude as the proper setting for a proposal of
+marriage; and the surroundings of the Flower Garden, for all its
+nice-ness and the nice manner in which it was conducted, jarred upon
+him profoundly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Music
+had begun again, but it was not the soft music such as a lover
+demands if he is to give of his best.  It was a brassy, clashy
+rendering of a ribald one-step, enough to choke the eloquence of the
+most ardent.  Couples were dipping and swaying and bumping into one
+another as far as the eye could reach; while just behind him two
+waiters had halted in order to thrash out one of those voluble
+arguments in which waiters love to indulge.  To continue the scene at
+the proper emotional level was impossible, and Bruce Carmyle began
+his career as an engaged man by dropping into Smalltalk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Deuce
+of a lot of noise,&#8221; he said querulously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+agreed Sally.
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Is
+it always like this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Infernal
+racket!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+romantic side of Mr. Carmyle&#8217;s nature could have cried aloud at
+the hideous unworthiness of these banalities.  In the visions which
+he had had of himself as a successful wooer, it had always been in
+the moments immediately succeeding the all-important question and its
+whispered reply that he had come out particularly strong.  He had
+been accustomed to picture himself bending with a proud tenderness
+over his partner in the scene and murmuring some notably good things
+to her bowed head.  How could any man murmur in a pandemonium like
+this.  From tenderness Bruce Carmyle descended with a sharp swoop to
+irritability.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you often come here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;To
+dance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle chafed helplessly.  The scene, which should be so romantic,
+had suddenly reminded him of the occasion when, at the age of twenty,
+he had attended his first ball and had sat in a corner behind a
+potted palm perspiring shyly and endeavouring to make conversation to
+a formidable nymph in pink.  It was one of the few occasions in his
+life at which he had ever been at a complete disadvantage.  He could
+still remember the clammy discomfort of his too high collar as it
+melted on him.  Most certainly it was not a scene which he enjoyed
+recalling; and that he should be forced to recall it now, at what
+ought to have been the supreme moment of his life, annoyed him
+intensely.  Almost angrily he endeavoured to jerk the conversation to
+a higher level.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Darling,&#8221;
+he murmured, for by moving his chair two feet to the right and
+bending sideways he found that he was in a position to murmur, &#8220;you
+have made me so...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Batti,
+batti! I presto ravioli hollandaise,&#8221; </i>cried one of the
+disputing waiters at his back&#8212;or to Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s
+prejudiced hearing it sounded like that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>La
+Donna e mobile spaghetti napoli Tettrazina,&#8221;</i> rejoined the
+second waiter with spirit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;...
+you have made me so...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Infanta
+Isabella lope de Vegas mulligatawny Toronto,&#8221;</i> said the
+first waiter, weak but coming back pluckily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;...
+so happy...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;<i>Funiculi
+funicula Vincente y Blasco Ibanez vermicelli sul campo della gloria
+risotto!&#8221;</i> said the second waiter clinchingly, and scored a
+technical knockout.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle gave it up, and lit a moody cigarette.  He was oppressed by
+that feeling which so many of us have felt in our time, that it was
+all wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+music stopped.  The two leading citizens of Little Italy vanished and
+went their way, probably to start a vendetta.  There followed
+comparative calm.  But Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s emotions, like sweet
+bells jangled, were out of tune, and he could not recapture the first
+fine careless rapture.  He found nothing within him but small-talk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+has become of your party?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+party?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+people you are with,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle.  Even in the stress of
+his emotion this problem had been exercising him.  In his correctly
+ordered world girls did not go to restaurants alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+not with anybody.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+came here by yourself?&#8221; exclaimed Bruce Carmyle, frankly
+aghast.  And, as he spoke, the wraith of Uncle Donald, banished till
+now, returned as large as ever, puffing disapproval through a walrus
+moustache.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+am employed here,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle started violently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Employed
+here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;As
+a dancer, you know.  I...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+broke off, her attention abruptly diverted to something which had
+just caught her eye at a table on the other side of the room.  That
+something was a red-headed young man of sturdy build who had just
+appeared beside the chair in which Mr. Reginald Cracknell was sitting
+in huddled gloom.  In one hand he carried a basket, and from this
+basket, rising above the din of conversation, there came a sudden
+sharp yapping.  Mr. Cracknell roused himself from his stupor, took
+the basket, raised the lid.  The yapping increased in volume.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Cracknell rose, the basket in his arms.  With uncertain steps and a
+look on his face like that of those who lead forlorn hopes he crossed
+the floor to where Miss Mabel Hobson sat, proud and aloof.  The next
+moment that haughty lady, the centre of an admiring and curious
+crowd, was hugging to her bosom a protesting Pekingese puppy, and Mr.
+Cracknell, seizing his opportunity like a good general, had deposited
+himself in a chair at her side.  The course of true love was running
+smooth again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+red-headed young man was gazing fixedly at Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;As
+a dancer!&#8221; ejaculated Mr. Carmyle.  Of all those within sight
+of the moving drama which had just taken place, he alone had paid no
+attention to it.  Replete as it was with human interest, sex-appeal,
+the punch, and all the other qualities which a drama should possess,
+it had failed to grip him.  His thoughts had been elsewhere.  The
+accusing figure of Uncle Donald refused to vanish from his mental
+eye.  The stern voice of Uncle Donald seemed still to ring in his
+ear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+dancer! A professional dancer at a Broadway restaurant! Hideous
+doubts began to creep like snakes into Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s mind.
+What, he asked himself, did he really know of this girl on whom he
+had bestowed the priceless boon of his society for life? How did he
+know what she was&#8212;he could not find the exact adjective to
+express his meaning, but he knew what he meant.  Was she worthy of
+the boon? That was what it amounted to.  All his life he had had a
+prim shrinking from the section of the feminine world which is
+connected with the light-life of large cities.  Club acquaintances of
+his in London had from time to time married into the Gaiety Chorus,
+and Mr. Carmyle, though he had no objection to the Gaiety Chorus in
+its proper place&#8212;on the other side of the footlights&#8212;had
+always looked on these young men after as social outcasts.  The fine
+dashing frenzy which had brought him all the way from South Audley
+Street to win Sally was ebbing fast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+hearing him speak, had turned.  And there was a candid honesty in her
+gaze which for a moment sent all those creeping doubts scuttling away
+into the darkness whence they had come.  He had not made a fool of
+himself, he protested to the lowering phantom of Uncle Donald.  Who,
+he demanded, could look at Sally and think for an instant that she
+was not all that was perfect and lovable? A warm revulsion of feeling
+swept over Bruce Carmyle like a returning tide.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+see, I lost my money and had to do something,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+see, I see,&#8221; murmured Mr. Carmyle; and if only Fate had left
+him alone who knows to what heights of tenderness he might not have
+soared? But at this moment Fate, being no respecter of persons, sent
+into his life the disturbing personality of George Washington
+Williams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">George
+Washington Williams was the talented coloured gentleman who had been
+extracted from small-time vaudeville by Mr. Abrahams to do a nightly
+speciality at the Flower Garden.  He was, in fact, a trap-drummer:
+and it was his amiable practice, after he had done a few minutes
+trap-drumming, to rise from his seat and make a circular tour of the
+tables on the edge of the dancing-floor, whimsically pretending to
+clip the locks of the male patrons with a pair of drumsticks held
+scissor-wise.  And so it came about that, just as Mr. Carmyle was
+bending towards Sally in an access of manly sentiment, and was on the
+very verge of pouring out his soul in a series of well-phrased
+remarks, he was surprised and annoyed to find an Ethiopian to whom he
+had never been introduced leaning over him and taking quite
+unpardonable liberties with his back hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One
+says that Mr. Carmyle was annoyed.  The word is weak.  The
+interruption coming at such a moment jarred every ganglion in his
+body.  The clicking noise of the drumsticks maddened him.  And the
+gleaming whiteness of Mr. Williams&#8217; friendly and benignant
+smile was the last straw.  His dignity writhed beneath this
+abominable infliction.  People at other tables were laughing.  At
+him.  A loathing for the Flower Garden flowed over Bruce Carmyle, and
+with it a feeling of suspicion and disapproval of everyone connected
+with the establishment.  He sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think I will be going,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not reply.  She was watching Ginger, who still stood beside the
+table recently vacated by Reginald Cracknell .</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+night,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+are you going?&#8221; said Sally with a start.  She felt embarrassed.
+ Try as she would, she was unable to find words of any intimacy.  She
+tried to realize that she had promised to marry this man, but never
+before had he seemed so much a stranger to her, so little a part of
+her life.  It came to her with a sensation of the incredible that she
+had done this thing, taken this irrevocable step.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+sudden sight of Ginger had shaken her.  It was as though in the last
+half-hour she had forgotten him and only now realized what marriage
+with Bruce Carmyle would mean to their comradeship.  From now on he
+was dead to her.  If anything in this world was certain that was.
+Sally Nicholas was Ginger&#8217;s pal, but Mrs. Carmyle, she
+realized, would never be allowed to see him again.  A devastating
+feeling of loss smote her like a blow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+I&#8217;ve had enough of this place,&#8221; Bruce Carmyle was saying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+night,&#8221; said Sally.  She hesitated.  &#8220;When shall I see
+you?&#8221; she asked awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It
+occurred to Bruce Carmyle that he was not showing himself at his
+best.  He had, he perceived, allowed his nerves to run away with him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t mind if I go?&#8221; he said more amiably.  &#8220;The
+fact is, I can&#8217;t stand this place any longer.  I&#8217;ll tell
+you one thing, I&#8217;m going to take you out of here quick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+afraid I can&#8217;t leave at a moment&#8217;s notice,&#8221; said
+Sally, loyal to her obligations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;We&#8217;ll
+talk over that to-morrow.  I&#8217;ll call for you in the morning and
+take you for a drive somewhere in a car.  You want some fresh air
+after this.&#8221; Mr. Carmyle looked about him in stiff disgust, and
+expressed his unalterable sentiments concerning the Flower Garden,
+that apple of Isadore Abrahams&#8217; eye, in a snort of loathing.
+&#8220;My God! What a place!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+walked quickly away and disappeared.  And Ginger, beaming happily,
+swooped on Sally&#8217;s table like a homing pigeon.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">4</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+Lord, I say, what ho!&#8221; cried Ginger.  &#8220;Fancy meeting you
+here.  What a bit of luck!&#8221; He glanced over his shoulder
+warily.  &#8220;Has that blighter pipped?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pipped?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Popped,&#8221;
+explained Ginger.  &#8220;I mean to say, he isn&#8217;t coming back
+or any rot like that, is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Mr.
+Carmyle? No, he has gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sound
+egg!&#8221; said Ginger with satisfaction.  &#8220;For a moment, when
+I saw you yarning away together, I thought he might be with your
+party.  What on earth is he doing over here at all, confound him?
+He&#8217;s got all Europe to play about in, why should he come
+infesting New York? I say, it really is ripping, seeing you again.
+It seems years... Of course, one get&#8217;s a certain amount of
+satisfaction writing letters, but it&#8217;s not the same.  Besides,
+I write such rotten letters.  I say, this really is rather priceless.
+ Can&#8217;t I get you something? A cup of coffee, I mean, or an egg
+or something? By jove! this really is top-hole.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His
+homely, honest face glowed with pleasure, and it seemed to Sally as
+though she had come out of a winter&#8217;s night into a warm
+friendly room.  Her mercurial spirits soared<i>.</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Ginger! If you knew what it&#8217;s like seeing you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,
+really? Do you mean, honestly, you&#8217;re braced?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+should say I am braced.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+isn&#8217;t that fine! I was afraid you might have forgotten me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Forgotten
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With
+something of the effect of a revelation it suddenly struck Sally how
+far she had been from forgetting him, how large was the place he had
+occupied in her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+missed you dreadfully,&#8221; she said, and felt the words inadequate
+as she uttered them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+ho!&#8221; said Ginger, also internally condemning the poverty of
+speech as a vehicle for conveying thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a brief silence.  The first exhilaration of the reunion over,
+Sally deep down in her heart was aware of a troubled feeling as
+though the world were out of joint.  She forced herself to ignore it,
+but it would not be ignored.  It grew.  Dimly she was beginning to
+realize what Ginger meant to her, and she fought to keep herself from
+realizing it.  Strange things were happening to her to-night, strange
+emotions stirring her.  Ginger seemed somehow different, as if she
+were really seeing him for the first time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+looking wonderfully well,&#8221; she said trying to keep the
+conversation on a pedestrian level.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+<i>am</i> well,&#8221; said Ginger.  &#8220;Never felt fitter in my
+life.  Been out in the open all day long... simple life and all
+that... working like blazes.  I say, business is booming.  Did you
+see me just now, handing over Percy the Pup to what&#8217;s-his-name?
+Five hundred dollars on that one deal.  Got the cheque in my pocket.
+But what an extraordinarily rummy thing that I should have come to
+this place to deliver the goods just when you happened to be here.  I
+couldn&#8217;t believe my eyes at first.  I say, I hope the people
+you&#8217;re with won&#8217;t think I&#8217;m butting in.  You&#8217;ll
+have to explain that we&#8217;re old pals and that you started me in
+business and all that sort of thing.  Look here,&#8221; he said
+lowering his voice, &#8220;I know how you hate being thanked, but I
+simply must say how terrifically decent...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Miss
+Nicholas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lee
+Schoenstein was standing at the table, and by his side an expectant
+youth with a small moustache and pince-nez.  Sally got up, and the
+next moment Ginger was alone, gaping perplexedly after her as she
+vanished and reappeared in the jogging throng on the dancing floor.
+It was the nearest thing Ginger had seen to a conjuring trick, and at
+that moment he was ill-attuned to conjuring tricks.  He brooded,
+fuming, at what seemed to him the supremest exhibition of pure cheek,
+of monumental nerve, and of undiluted crust that had ever come within
+his notice.  To come and charge into a private conversation like that
+and whisk her away without a word...
+</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Who
+<i>was</i> that blighter?&#8221; he demanded with heat, when the
+music ceased and Sally limped back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That
+was Mr. Schoenstein.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+who was the other?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+one I danced with? I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+don&#8217;t <i>know?&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+perceived that the conversation had arrived at an embarrassing point.
+ There was nothing for it but candour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;you remember my telling you when we first met that I
+used to dance in a Broadway place? This is the place.  I&#8217;m
+working again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Complete
+unintelligence showed itself on Ginger&#8217;s every feature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+don&#8217;t understand,&#8221; he said&#8212;unnecessarily, for his
+face revealed the fact.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+got my old job back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I had to do something.&#8221; She went on rapidly.  Already a light
+dimly resembling the light of understanding was beginning to appear
+in Ginger&#8217;s eyes.  &#8220;Fillmore went smash, you know&#8212;it
+wasn&#8217;t his fault, poor dear.  He had the worst kind of luck&#8212;and
+most of my money was tied up in his business, so you see...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+broke off confused by the look in his eyes, conscious of an absurd
+feeling of guilt.  There was amazement in that look and a sort of
+incredulous horror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you mean to say...&#8221; Ginger gulped and started again.  &#8220;Do
+you mean to tell me that you let me have... all that money... for the
+dog-business... when you were broke? Do you mean to say...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stole a glance at his crimson face and looked away again quickly.
+There was an electric silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Look
+here,&#8221; exploded Ginger with sudden violence, &#8220;you&#8217;ve
+got to marry me.  You&#8217;ve jolly well got to marry me! I don&#8217;t
+mean that,&#8221; he added quickly.  &#8220;I mean to say I know
+you&#8217;re going to marry whoever you please... but <i>won&#8217;t</i>
+you marry me? Sally, for God&#8217;s sake have a dash at it! I&#8217;ve
+been keeping it in all this time because it seemed rather rotten to
+bother you about it, but now... .Oh, dammit, I wish I could put it
+into words.  I always was rotten at talking.  But... well, look here,
+what I mean is, I know I&#8217;m not much of a chap, but it seems to
+me you must care for me a bit to do a thing like that for a fellow...
+and... I&#8217;ve loved you like the dickens ever since I met you...
+I do wish you&#8217;d have a stab at it, Sally.  At least I could
+look after you, you know, and all that... I mean to say, work like
+the deuce and try to give you a good time... I&#8217;m not such an
+ass as to think a girl like you could ever really... er... <i>love</i>
+a blighter like me, but...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+laid her hand oh his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,
+dear,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I do love you.  I ought to have known
+it all along, but I seem to be understanding myself to-night for the
+first time.&#8221; She got up and bent over him for a swift moment,
+whispering in his ear, &#8220;I shall never love anyone but you,
+Ginger.  Will you try to remember that.&#8221; She was moving away,
+but he caught at her arm and stopped her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+pulled her arm away, her face working as she fought against the tears
+that would not keep back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+made a fool of myself,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Ginger, your
+cousin... Mr. Carmyle... just now he asked me to marry him, and I
+said I would.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+was gone, flitting among the tables like some wild creature running
+to its home: and Ginger, motionless, watched her go.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">5</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+telephone-bell in Sally&#8217;s little sitting-room was ringing
+jerkily as she let herself in at the front door.  She guessed who it
+was at the other end of the wire, and the noise of the bell sounded
+to her like the voice of a friend in distress crying for help.
+Without stopping to close the door, she ran to the table and unhooked
+the receiver.  Muffled, plaintive sounds were comming over the wire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo...
+Hullo... I say... Hullo...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo,
+Ginger,&#8221; said Sally quietly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An
+ejaculation that was half a shout and half gurgle answered her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally!
+Is that you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+here I am, Ginger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+been trying to get you for ages.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+only just come in.  I walked home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+I mean...&#8221; Ginger seemed to be finding his usual difficulty in
+expressing himself.  &#8220;About that, you know.  What you said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes?&#8221;
+said Sally, trying to keep her voice from shaking.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You
+said...&#8221; Again Ginger&#8217;s vocabulary failed him.  &#8220;You
+said you loved me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Sally simply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Another
+odd sound floated over the wire, and there was a moment of silence
+before Ginger found himself able to resume.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I...
+I... Well, we can talk about that when we meet.  I mean, it&#8217;s
+no good trying to say what I think over the &#8216;phone, I&#8217;m
+sort of knocked out.  I never dreamed... But, I say, what did you
+mean about Bruce?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+told you, I told you.&#8221; Sally&#8217;s face was twisted and the
+receiver shook in her hand.  &#8220;I&#8217;ve made a fool of myself.
+ I never realized... And now it&#8217;s too late.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+God!&#8221; Ginger&#8217;s voice rose in a sharp wail.  &#8220;You
+can&#8217;t mean you really... You don&#8217;t seriously intend to
+marry the man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+must.  I&#8217;ve promised.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But,
+good heavens...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+no good.  I must.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+the man&#8217;s a blighter!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can&#8217;t break my word.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+never heard such rot,&#8221; said Ginger vehemently.  &#8220;Of
+course you can.  A girl isn&#8217;t expected...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can&#8217;t, Ginger dear, I really can&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;But
+look here...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+really no good talking about it any more, really it isn&#8217;t...
+Where are you staying to-night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Staying?
+Me? At the Plaza.  But look here...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+found herself laughing weakly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;At
+the Plaza! Oh, Ginger, you really do want somebody to look after you.
+ Squandering your pennies like that... Well, don&#8217;t talk any
+more now.  It&#8217;s so late and I&#8217;m so tired.  I&#8217;ll
+come and see you to-morrow.  Good night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+hung up the receiver quickly, to cut short a fresh outburst of
+protest.  And as she turned away a voice spoke behind her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+Foster was standing in the doorway.</p>
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">SALLY LAYS A GHOST</h3>
+
+<h3 class="sect">1</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+blood flowed slowly back into Sally&#8217;s face, and her  heart,
+which had leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice,
+resumed its normal beat.  The suddenness of the shock over, she was
+surprised to find herself perfectly calm.  Always when she had
+imagined this meeting, knowing that it would have to take place
+sooner or later, she had felt something akin to panic: but now that
+it had actually occurred it hardly seemed to stir her.  The events of
+the night had left her incapable of any violent emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo,
+Sally!&#8221; said Gerald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he stood
+swaying with one hand on the door.  He was in his shirt-sleeves,
+collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily.  His
+face was white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a
+sodden disreputableness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+did not speak.  Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, she
+seemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tired
+nerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness.  She
+looked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if
+he had been a stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo!&#8221;
+said Gerald again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do you want?&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Heard
+your voice.  Saw the door open.  Thought I&#8217;d come in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+do you want?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald&#8217;s face vanished.
+A tear rolled down his cheek.  His intoxication had reached the
+maudlin stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Sally...
+S-Sally... I&#8217;m very miserable.&#8221; He slurred awkwardly over
+the difficult syllables.  &#8220;Heard your voice.  Saw the door
+open.  Thought I&#8217;d come in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something
+flicked at the back of Sally&#8217;s mind.  She seemed to have been
+through all this before.  Then she remembered.  This was simply Mr.
+Reginald Cracknell over again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+think you had better go to bed, Gerald,&#8221; she said steadily.
+Nothing about him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him
+nor his shameless misery.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What&#8217;s
+the use? Can&#8217;t sleep.  No good.  Couldn&#8217;t sleep.  Sally,
+you don&#8217;t know how worried I am.  I see what a fool I&#8217;ve
+been.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about to develop
+into a belated expression of regret for his treatment of herself.
+She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizing with
+tears for having done his best to wreck her life.  But it seemed that
+it was not this that was weighing upon his soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+was a fool ever to try writing plays,&#8221; he went on.  &#8220;Got
+a winner first time, but can&#8217;t repeat.  It&#8217;s no good.
+Ought to have stuck to newspaper work.  I&#8217;m good at that.
+Shall have to go back to it.  Had another frost to-night.  No good
+trying any more.  Shall have to go back to the old grind, damn it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very
+miserable,&#8221; he murmured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+came forward a step into the room, lurched, and retreated to the safe
+support of the door.  For an instant Sally&#8217;s artificial calm
+was shot through by a swift stab of contempt.  It passed, and she was
+back again in her armour of indifference.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Go
+to bed, Gerald,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;You&#8217;ll feel better in
+the morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Perhaps
+some inkling of how he was going to feel in the morning worked
+through to Gerald&#8217;s muddled intelligence, for he winced, and
+his manner took on a deeper melancholy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;May
+not be alive in the morning,&#8221; he said solemnly.  &#8220;Good
+mind to end it all.  End it all!&#8221; he repeated with the
+beginning of a sweeping gesture which was cut off abruptly as he
+clutched at the friendly door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was not in the mood for melodrama.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+go to bed,&#8221; she said impatiently.  The strange frozen
+indifference which had gripped her was beginning to pass, leaving in
+its place a growing feeling of resentment&#8212;resentment against
+Gerald for degrading himself like this, against herself for ever
+having found glamour in the man.  It humiliated her to remember how
+utterly she had once allowed his personality to master hers.  And
+under the sting of this humiliation she felt hard and pitiless.
+Dimly she was aware that a curious change had come over her to-night.
+ Normally, the sight of any living thing in distress was enough to
+stir her quick sympathy: but Gerald mourning over the prospect of
+having to go back to regular work made no appeal to her&#8212;a fact
+which the sufferer noted and commented upon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;re
+very unsymp... unsympathetic,&#8221; he complained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;m
+sorry,&#8221; said Sally.  She walked briskly to the door and gave it
+a push.  Gerald, still clinging to his chosen support, moved out into
+the passage, attached to the handle, with the air of a man the
+foundations of whose world have suddenly lost their stability.  He
+released the handle and moved uncertainly across the passage.
+Finding his own door open before him, he staggered over the
+threshold; and Sally, having watched him safely to his journey&#8217;s
+end, went into her bedroom with the intention of terminating this
+disturbing night by going to sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Almost
+immediately she changed her mind.  Sleep was out of the question.  A
+fever of restlessness had come upon her.  She put on a kimono, and
+went into the kitchen to ascertain whether her commissariat
+arrangements would permit of a glass of hot milk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+had just remembered that she had that morning presented the last of
+the milk to a sandy cat with a purposeful eye which had dropped in
+through the window to take breakfast with her, when her regrets for
+this thriftless hospitality were interrupted by a muffled crash.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+listened intently.  The sound had seemed to come from across the
+passage.  She hurried to the door and opened it.  As she did so, from
+behind the door of the apartment opposite there came a perfect
+fusillade of crashes, each seeming to her strained hearing louder and
+more appalling than the last.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+is something about sudden, loud noises in the stillness of the night
+which shatters the most rigid detachment.  A short while before,
+Gerald, toying with the idea of ending his sorrows by violence, had
+left Sally unmoved: but now her mind leapt back to what he had said,
+and apprehension succeeded indifference.  There was no disputing the
+fact that Gerald was in an irresponsible mood, under the influence of
+which he was capable of doing almost anything.  Sally, listening in
+the doorway, felt a momentary panic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+brief silence had succeeded the fusillade, but, as she stood there
+hesitating, the noise broke out again; and this time it was so loud
+and compelling that Sally hesitated no longer.  She ran across the
+passage and beat on the door.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">2</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whatever
+devastating happenings had been going on in his home, it was plain a
+moment later that Gerald had managed to survive them: for there came
+the sound of a dragging footstep, and the door opened.  Gerald stood
+on the threshold, the weak smile back on his face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Hullo,
+Sally!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+the sight of him, disreputable and obviously unscathed, Sally&#8217;s
+brief alarm died away, leaving in its place the old feeling of
+impatient resentment.  In addition to her other grievances against
+him, he had apparently frightened her unnecessarily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Whatever
+was all that noise?&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Noise?&#8221;
+said Gerald, considering the point open-mouthed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,
+noise,&#8221; snapped Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve
+been cleaning house,&#8221; said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of
+a man just conscious that he is not wholly himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+pushed her way past him.  The apartment in which she found herself
+was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa
+Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly
+feminine way.  Amateur interior decoration had always been a hobby of
+hers.  Even in the unpromising surroundings of her bedroom at Mrs.
+Meecher&#8217;s boarding-house she had contrived to create a certain
+daintiness which Sally, who had no ability in that direction herself,
+had always rather envied.  As a decorator Elsa&#8217;s mind ran in
+the direction of small, fragile ornaments, and she was not afraid of
+over-furnishing.  Pictures jostled one another on the walls: china of
+all description stood about on little tables: there was a profusion
+of lamps with shades of parti-coloured glass: and plates were ranged
+along a series of shelves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One
+says that the plates were ranged and the pictures jostled one
+another, but it would be more correct to put it they had jostled and
+had been ranged, for it was only by guess-work that Sally was able to
+reconstruct the scene as it must have appeared before Gerald had
+started, as he put it, to clean house.  She had walked into the flat
+briskly enough, but she pulled up short as she crossed the threshold,
+appalled by the majestic ruin that met her gaze.  A shell bursting in
+the little sitting-room could hardly have created more havoc.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+psychology of a man of weak character under the influence of alcohol
+and disappointed ambition is not easy to plumb, for his moods follow
+one another with a rapidity which baffles the observer.  Ten minutes
+before, Gerald Foster had been in the grip of a clammy self-pity, and
+it seemed from his aspect at the present moment that this phase had
+returned.  But in the interval there had manifestly occurred a brief
+but adequate spasm of what would appear to have been an almost
+Berserk fury.  What had caused it and why it should have expended
+itself so abruptly, Sally was not psychologist enough to explain; but
+that it had existed there was ocular evidence of the most convincing
+kind.  A heavy niblick, flung petulantly&#8212;or remorsefully&#8212;into
+a corner, showed by what medium the destruction had been
+accomplished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bleak
+chaos appeared on every side.  The floor was littered with every
+imaginable shape and size of broken glass and china.  Fragments of
+pictures, looking as if they had been chewed by some prehistoric
+animal, lay amid heaps of shattered statuettes and vases.  As Sally
+moved slowly into the room after her involuntary pause, china
+crackled beneath her feet.  She surveyed the stripped walls with a
+wondering eye, and turned to Gerald for an explanation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+had subsided on to an occasional table, and was weeping softly again.
+ It had come over him once more that he had been very, very badly
+treated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well!&#8221;
+said Sally with a gasp.  &#8220;You&#8217;ve certainly made a good
+job of it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a sharp crack as the occasional table, never designed by its
+maker to bear heavy weights, gave way in a splintering flurry of
+broken legs under the pressure of the master of the house: and
+Sally&#8217;s mood underwent an abrupt change.  There are few
+situations in life which do not hold equal potentialities for both
+tragedy and farce, and it was the ludicrous side of this drama that
+chanced to appeal to Sally at this moment.  Her sense of humour was
+tickled.  It was, if she could have analysed her feelings, at herself
+that she was mocking&#8212;at the feeble sentimental Sally who had
+once conceived the absurd idea of taking this preposterous man
+seriously.  She felt light-hearted and light-headed, and she sank
+into a chair with a gurgling laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+shock of his fall appeared to have had the desirable effect of
+restoring Gerald to something approaching intelligence.  He picked
+himself up from the remains of a set of water-colours, gazing at
+Sally with growing disapproval.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No
+sympathy,&#8221; he said austerely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+can&#8217;t help it,&#8221; cried Sally.  &#8220;It&#8217;s too
+funny.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+funny,&#8221; corrected Gerald, his brain beginning to cloud once
+more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+did you do it for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+returned for a moment to that mood of honest indignation, which had
+so strengthened his arm when wielding the niblick.  He bethought him
+once again of his grievance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Wasn&#8217;t
+going to stand for it any longer,&#8221; he said heatedly.  &#8220;A
+fellow&#8217;s wife goes and lets him down... ruins his show by going
+off and playing in another show... why <i>shouldn&#8217;t</i> I smash
+her things? Why should I stand for that sort of treatment? Why should
+I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+you haven&#8217;t,&#8221; said Sally, &#8220;so there&#8217;s no need
+to discuss it.  You seem to have acted in a thoroughly manly and
+independent way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;That&#8217;s
+it.  Manly independent.&#8221; He waggled his finger impressively.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t care what she says,&#8221; he continued.  &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+care if she never comes back.  That woman...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was not prepared to embark with him upon a discussion of the absent
+Elsa.  Already the amusing aspect of the affair had begun to fade,
+and her hilarity was giving way to a tired distaste for the
+sordidness of the whole business.  She had become aware that she
+could not endure the society of Gerald Foster much longer.  She got
+up and spoke decidedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;And
+now,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to tidy up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+had other views.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No,&#8221;
+he said with sudden solemnity.  &#8220;No! Nothing of the kind.
+Leave it for her to find.  Leave it as it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t
+be silly.  All this has got to be cleaned up.  I&#8217;ll do it.  You
+go and sit in my apartment.  I&#8217;ll come and tell you when you
+can come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No!&#8221;
+said Gerald, wagging his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stamped her foot among the crackling ruins.  Quite suddenly the sight
+of him had become intolerable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+as I tell you,&#8221; she cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+wavered for a moment, but his brief militant mood was ebbing fast.
+After a faint protest he shuffled off, and Sally heard him go into
+her room.  She breathed a deep breath of relief and turned to her
+task.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A
+visit to the kitchen revealed a long-handled broom, and, armed with
+this, Sally was soon busy.  She was an efficient little person, and
+presently out of chaos there began to emerge a certain order.
+Nothing short of complete re-decoration would ever make the place
+look habitable again, but at the end of half an hour she had cleared
+the floor, and the fragments of vases, plates, lamp-shades, pictures
+and glasses were stacked in tiny heaps against the walls.  She
+returned the broom to the kitchen, and, going back into the
+sitting-room, flung open the window and stood looking out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With
+a sense of unreality she perceived that the night had gone.  Over the
+quiet street below there brooded that strange, metallic light which
+ushers in the dawn of a fine day.  A cold breeze whispered to and
+fro.  Above the house-tops the sky was a faint, level blue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+left the window and started to cross the room.  And suddenly there
+came over her a feeling of utter weakness.  She stumbled to a chair,
+conscious only of being tired beyond the possibility of a further
+effort.  Her eyes closed, and almost before her head had touched the
+cushions she was asleep.</p>
+
+<h3 class="sect">3</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+woke.  Sunshine was streaming through the open window, and with it
+the myriad noises of a city awake and about its business.  Footsteps
+clattered on the sidewalk, automobile horns were sounding, and she
+could hear the clank of street cars as they passed over the points.
+She could only guess at the hour, but it was evident that the morning
+was well advanced.  She got up stiffly.  Her head was aching.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+went into the bathroom, bathed her face, and felt better.  The dull
+oppression which comes of a bad night was leaving her.  She leaned
+out of the window, revelling in the fresh air, then crossed the
+passage and entered her own apartment.  Stertorous breathing greeted
+her, and she perceived that Gerald Foster had also passed the night
+in a chair.  He was sprawling by the window with his legs stretched
+out and his head resting on one of the arms, an unlovely spectacle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+stood regarding him for a moment with a return of the distaste which
+she had felt on the previous night.  And yet, mingled with the
+distaste, there was a certain elation.  A black chapter of her life
+was closed for ever.  Whatever the years to come might bring to her,
+they would be free from any wistful yearnings for the man who had
+once been woven so inextricably into the fabric of her life.  She had
+thought that his personality had gripped her too strongly ever to be
+dislodged, but now she could look at him calmly and feel only a faint
+half-pity, half-contempt.  The glamour had departed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+shook him gently, and he sat up with a start, blinking in the strong
+light.  His mouth was still open.  He stared at Sally foolishly, then
+scrambled awkwardly out of the chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my God!&#8221; said Gerald, pressing both his hands to his forehead
+and sitting down again.  He licked his lips with a dry tongue and
+moaned.  &#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ve got a headache!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+might have pointed out to him that he had certainly earned one, but
+she refrained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;You&#8217;d
+better go and have a wash,&#8221; she suggested.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+said Gerald, heaving himself up again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Would
+you like some breakfast?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Don&#8217;t!&#8221;
+said Gerald faintly, and tottered off to the bathroom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+sat down in the chair he had vacated.  She had never felt quite like
+this before in her life.  Everything seemed dreamlike.  The splashing
+of water in the bathroom came faintly to her, and she realized that
+she had been on the point of falling asleep again.  She got up and
+opened the window, and once more the air acted as a restorative.  She
+watched the activities of the street with a distant interest.  They,
+too, seemed dreamlike and unreal.  People were hurrying up and down
+on mysterious errands.  An inscrutable cat picked its way daintily
+across the road.  At the door of the apartment house an open car
+purred sleepily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+was roused by a ring at the bell.  She went to the door and opened
+it, and found Bruce Carmyle standing on the threshold.  He wore a
+light motor-coat, and he was plainly endeavouring to soften the
+severity of his saturnine face with a smile of beaming kindliness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Well,
+here I am!&#8221; said Bruce Carmyle cheerily.  &#8220;Are you
+ready?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With
+the coming of daylight a certain penitence had descended on Mr.
+Carmyle.  Thinking things over while shaving and subsequently in his
+bath, he had come to the conclusion that his behaviour overnight had
+not been all that could have been desired.  He had not actually been
+brutal, perhaps, but he had undoubtedly not been winning.  There had
+been an abruptness in the manner of his leaving Sally at the Flower
+Garden which a perfect lover ought not to have shown.  He had allowed
+his nerves to get the better of him, and now he desired to make
+amends.  Hence a cheerfulness which he did not usually exhibit so
+early in the morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was staring at him blankly.  She had completely forgotten that he had
+said that he would come and take her for a drive this morning.  She
+searched in her mind for words, and found none.  And, as Mr. Carmyle
+was debating within himself whether to kiss her now or wait for a
+more suitable moment, embarrassment came upon them both like a fog,
+and the genial smile faded from his face as if the motive-power
+behind it had suddenly failed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I&#8217;ve&#8212;er&#8212;got
+the car outside, and...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+this point speech failed Mr. Carmyle, for, even as he began the
+sentence, the door that led to the bathroom opened and Gerald Foster
+came out.  Mr. Carmyle gaped at Gerald: Gerald gaped at Mr. Carmyle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+application of cold water to the face and head is an excellent thing
+on the morning after an imprudent night, but as a tonic it only goes
+part of the way.  In the case of Gerald Foster, which was an
+extremely serious and aggravated case, it had gone hardly any way at
+all.  The person unknown who had been driving red-hot rivets into the
+base of Gerald Foster&#8217;s skull ever since the moment of his
+awakening was still busily engaged on that task.  He gazed at Mr.
+Carmyle wanly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bruce
+Carmyle drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, and stood rigid.  His
+eyes, burning now with a grim light, flickered over Gerald&#8217;s
+person and found nothing in it to entertain them.  He saw a slouching
+figure in shirt-sleeves and the foundations of evening dress, a
+disgusting, degraded figure with pink eyes and a white face that
+needed a shave.  And all the doubts that had ever come to vex Mr.
+Carmyle&#8217;s mind since his first meeting with Sally became on the
+instant certainties.  So Uncle Donald had been right after all! This
+was the sort of girl she was!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At
+his elbow the stout phantom of Uncle Donald puffed with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+told you so!&#8221; it said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+had not moved.  The situation was beyond her.  Just as if this had
+really been the dream it seemed, she felt incapable of speech or
+action.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So...&#8221;
+said Mr. Carmyle, becoming articulate, and allowed an impressive
+aposiopesis to take the place of the rest of the speech.  A cold fury
+had gripped him.  He pointed at Gerald, began to speak, found that he
+was stuttering, and gulped back the words.  In this supreme moment he
+was not going to have his dignity impaired by a stutter.  He gulped
+and found a sentence which, while brief enough to insure against this
+disaster, was sufficiently long to express his meaning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Get
+out!&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gerald
+Foster had his dignity, too, and it seemed to him that the time had
+come to assert it.  But he also had a most excruciating headache, and
+when he drew himself up haughtily to ask Mr. Carmyle what the devil
+he meant by it, a severe access of pain sent him huddling back
+immediately to a safer attitude.  He clasped his forehead and
+groaned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Get
+out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For
+a moment Gerald hesitated.  Then another sudden shooting spasm
+convinced him that no profit or pleasure was to be derived from a
+continuance of the argument, and he began to shamble slowly across to
+the door.  Bruce Carmyle watched him go with twitching hands.  There
+was a moment when the human man in him, somewhat atrophied from long
+disuse, stirred him almost to the point of assault; then dignity
+whispered more prudent counsel in his ear, and Gerald was past the
+danger-zone and out in the passage.  Mr. Carmyle turned to face
+Sally, as King Arthur on a similar but less impressive occasion must
+have turned to deal with Guinevere.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;So...&#8221;
+he said again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+was eyeing him steadily&#8212;considering the circumstances, Mr.
+Carmyle thought with not a little indignation, much too steadily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;This,&#8221;
+he said ponderously, &#8220;is very amusing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+might have expected it,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle with a bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+forced herself from the lethargy which was gripping her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Would
+you like me to explain?&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;There
+can be no explanation,&#8221; said Mr. Carmyle coldly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Very
+well,&#8221; said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There
+was a pause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good-bye,&#8221;
+said Bruce Carmyle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good-bye,&#8221;
+said Sally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr.
+Carmyle walked to the door.  There he stopped for an instant and
+glanced back at her.  Sally had walked to the window and was looking
+out.  For one swift instant something about her trim little figure
+and the gleam of her hair where the sunlight shone on it seemed to
+catch at Bruce Carmyle&#8217;s heart, and he wavered.  But the next
+moment he was strong again, and the door had closed behind him with a
+resolute bang.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Out
+in the street, climbing into his car, he looked up involuntarily to
+see if she was still there, but she had gone.  As the car, gathering
+speed, hummed down the street.  Sally was at the telephone listening
+to the sleepy voice of Ginger Kemp, which, as he became aware who it
+was that had woken him from his rest and what she had to say to him,
+magically lost its sleepiness and took on a note of riotous ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Five
+minutes later, Ginger was splashing in his bath, singing
+discordantly.</p>
+
+<h3 class="chap">CHAPTER XVIII</h3>
+
+<h3 class="titl">JOURNEY&#8216;S END</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Darkness
+was beginning to gather slowly and with almost an apologetic
+air, as if it regretted the painful duty of putting an end to the
+perfect summer day.  Over to the west beyond the trees there still
+lingered a faint afterglow, and a new moon shone like a silver sickle
+above the big barn.  Sally came out of the house and bowed gravely
+three times for luck.  She stood on the gravel, outside the porch,
+drinking in the sweet evening scents, and found life good.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+darkness, having shown a certain reluctance at the start, was now
+buckling down to make a quick and thorough job of it.  The sky turned
+to a uniform dark blue, picked out with quiet stars.  The cement of
+the state road which led to Patchogue, Babylon, and other important
+centres ceased to be a pale blur and became invisible.  Lights
+appeared in the windows of the houses across the meadows.  From the
+direction of the kennels there came a single sleepy bark, and the
+small white woolly dog which had scampered out at Sally&#8217;s heels
+stopped short and uttered a challenging squeak.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+evening was so still that Ginger&#8217;s footsteps, as he pounded
+along the road on his way back from the village, whither he had gone
+to buy provisions, evening papers, and wool for the sweater which
+Sally was knitting, were audible long before he turned in at the
+gate.  Sally could not see him, but she looked in the direction of
+the sound and once again felt that pleasant, cosy thrill of happiness
+which had come to her every evening for the last year.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,&#8221;
+she called.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+ho!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The
+woolly dog, with another important squeak, scuttled down the drive to
+look into the matter, and was coldly greeted.  Ginger, for all his
+love of dogs, had never been able to bring himself to regard Toto
+with affection.  He had protested when Sally, a month before, finding
+Mrs. Meecher distraught on account of a dreadful lethargy which had
+seized her pet, had begged him to offer hospitality and country air
+to the invalid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+wonderful what you&#8217;ve done for Toto, angel,&#8221; said Sally,
+as he came up frigidly eluding that curious animal&#8217;s leaps of
+welcome.  &#8220;He&#8217;s a different dog.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Bit
+of luck for him,&#8221; said Ginger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;In
+all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher&#8217;s I never knew him move at
+anything more rapid than a stately walk.  Now he runs about all the
+time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;The
+blighter had been overeating from birth,&#8221; said Ginger.  &#8220;That
+was all that was wrong with him.  A little judicious dieting put him
+right.  We&#8217;ll be able,&#8221; said Ginger brightening, &#8220;to
+ship him back next week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+shall quite miss him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+nearly missed him&#8212;this morning&#8212;with a shoe,&#8221; said
+Ginger.  &#8220;He was up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and
+I took steps.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;My
+cave-man!&#8221; murmured Sally.  &#8220;I always said you had a
+frightfully brutal streak in you.  Ginger, what an evening!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Good
+Lord!&#8221; said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of
+the open kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Now
+what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+stopped and eyed her intently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Do
+you know you&#8217;re looking prettier than you were when I started
+down to the village!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gave his arm a little hug.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Beloved!&#8221;
+she said.  &#8220;Did you get the chops?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+froze in his tracks, horrified.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+my aunt! I clean forgot them!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Oh,
+Ginger, you are an old chump.  Well, you&#8217;ll have to go in for a
+little judicious dieting, like Toto.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+say, I&#8217;m most awfully sorry.  I got the wool.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;If
+you think I&#8217;m going to eat wool...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Isn&#8217;t
+there anything in the house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Vegetables
+and fruit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fine!
+But, of course, if you want chops...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Not
+at all.  I&#8217;m spiritual.  Besides, people say that vegetables
+are good for the blood-pressure or something.  Of course you forgot
+to get the mail, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Absolutely
+not! I was on to it like a knife.  Two letters from fellows wanting
+Airedale puppies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;No!
+Ginger, we <i>are</i> getting on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pretty
+bloated,&#8221; agreed Ginger complacently.  &#8220;Pretty bloated.
+We&#8217;ll be able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on
+like this.  There was a letter for you.  Here it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+from Fillmore,&#8221; said Sally, examining the envelope as they went
+into the kitchen.  &#8220;And about time, too.  I haven&#8217;t had a
+word from him for months.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She
+sat down and opened the letter.  Ginger, heaving  himself on to the
+table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his
+evening paper.  But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he
+lowered it and allowed his gaze to rest on Sally&#8217;s bent head
+with a feeling of utter contentment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Although
+a married man of nearly a year&#8217;s standing, Ginger was still
+moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable
+fully to realize that such bliss could be.  Ginger in his time had
+seen many things that looked good from a distance, but not one that
+had borne the test of a closer acquaintance&#8212;except this
+business of marriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Marriage,
+with Sally for a partner, seemed to be one of the very few things in
+the world in which there was no catch.  His honest eyes glowed as he
+watched her.  Sally broke into a little splutter of laughter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Ginger,
+look at this!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He
+reached down and took the slip of paper which she held out to him.
+The following legend met his eye, printed in bold letters:</p>
+
+<p class="center">POPP&#8217;S</p>
+
+<p class="center">OUTSTANDING</p>
+
+<p class="center">SUCCULENT&#8212;&#8212;APPETIZING&#8212;&#8212;NUTRITIOUS.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><br></p>
+
+<p class="center">(JUST SAY &#8220;POP!&#8221; A CHILD</p>
+
+<p class="center">CAN DO IT.)</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><br></p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ginger
+regarded this cipher with a puzzled frown.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;What
+is it?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+Fillmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;How
+do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally
+gurgled .</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Fillmore
+and Gladys have started a little restaurant in Pittsburg.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;A
+restaurant!&#8221; There was a shocked note in Ginger&#8217;s voice.
+Although he knew that the managerial career of that modern Napoleon,
+his brother-in-law, had terminated in something of a smash, he had
+never quite lost his reverence for one whom he considered a bit of a
+master-mind.  That Fillmore Nicholas, the Man of Destiny, should have
+descended to conducting a restaurant&#8212;and a little restaurant at
+that&#8212;struck him as almost indecent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sally,
+on the other hand&#8212;for sisters always seem to fail in proper
+reverence for the greatness of their brothers&#8212;was delighted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;It&#8217;s
+the most splendid idea,&#8221; she said with enthusiasm.  &#8220;It
+really does look as if Fillmore was going to amount to something at
+last.  Apparently they started on quite a small scale, just making
+pork-pies...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Why
+Popp?&#8221; interrupted Ginger, ventilating a question which was
+perplexing him deeply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Just
+a trade name, silly.  Gladys is a wonderful cook, you know, and she
+made the pies and Fillmore toddled round selling them.  And they did
+so well that now they&#8217;ve started a regular restaurant, and
+that&#8217;s a success, too.  Listen to this.&#8221; Sally gurgled
+again and turned over the letter.  &#8220;Where is it? Oh yes! &#8216;...
+sound financial footing.  In fact, our success has been so
+instantaneous that I have decided to launch out on a really big
+scale.  It is Big Ideas that lead to Big Business.  I am
+contemplating a vast extension of this venture of ours, and in a very
+short time I shall organize branches in New York, Chicago, Detroit,
+and all the big cities, each in charge of a manager and each offering
+as a special feature, in addition to the usual restaurant cuisine,
+these Popp&#8217;s Outstanding Pork-pies of ours.  That done, and
+having established all these branches as going concerns, I shall sail
+for England and introduce Popp&#8217;s Pork-pies there...&#8217;
+Isn&#8217;t he a little wonder!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Dashed
+brainy chap.  Always said so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;I
+must say I was rather uneasy when I read that.  I&#8217;ve seen so
+many of Fillmore&#8217;s Big Ideas.  That&#8217;s always the way with
+him.  He gets something good and then goes and overdoes it and
+bursts.  However, it&#8217;s all right now that he&#8217;s got Gladys
+to look after him.  She has added a postscript.  Just four words, but
+oh! how comforting to a sister&#8217;s heart.  &#8216;Yes, I don&#8217;t
+think!&#8217; is what she says, and I don&#8217;t know when I&#8217;ve
+read anything more cheering.  Thank heaven, she&#8217;s got poor dear
+Fillmore well in hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Pork-pies!&#8221;
+said Ginger, musingly, as the pangs of a healthy hunger began to
+assail his interior.  &#8220;I wish he&#8217;d <i>sent</i> us one of
+the outstanding little chaps.  I could do with it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">
+Sally got up and ruffled his red hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&#8220;Poor
+old Ginger! I knew you&#8217;d never be able to stick it.  Come on,
+it&#8217;s a lovely night, lets walk to the village and revel at the
+inn.  We&#8217;re going to be millionaires before we know where we
+are, so we can afford it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 1.27cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">THE END</p>
+
+<p><br> </p>
+
+<p><br> </p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sally, by P. G. Wodehouse
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+</pre>
+
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