I'm
not."

"Where've you been all this while?"

"Working."

"Where were you Monday last? Didn't see you at Sherry's."

"Working."

"And the week before? You weren't at The Retreat."

"Working, also."

"And the week before that? Nobody's seen so much--"

"Working. Working. Working."

"I stopped in at your roost and your new man told me you were away and
might be gone indefinitely. Funny chap, your new man. Mysterious sort of
manner. Where'd you pick him up?"

"Oh, Lord! Hainer!" exclaimed Banneker appreciatively. "Well, he told
the truth."

"You look pulled down, too, by Jove!" commented Cressey, concern on his
sightly face. "Ridin' for a fall, aren't you?"

"Only for a test. I'm going to let up next week."

"Tell you what," proffered Cressey. "Let's do a day together. Say
Wednesday, eh? I'm giving a little dinner that night. And, oh, I say! By
the way--no: never mind that. You'll come, won't you? It'll be at The
Retreat."

"Yes: I'll come. I'll be playing polo that afternoon."

"Not if Jim Maitland sees you first. He's awfully sore on you for not
turning up to practice. Had a place for you on the second team."

"Don't want it. I'm through with polo."

"Ban! What the devil--"

"Work, I tell you. Next season I may be able to play. For the present
I'm off everything."

"Have they made you _all_ the editors of The Ledger in one?"

"I'm off The Ledger, too. Give you all the painful details Wednesday.
Fare-you-well."

General disgust and wrath pervaded the atmosphere of the polo field when
Banneker, making his final appearance on Wednesday, broke the news to
Maitland, Densmore, and the others.

"Just as you were beginning to know one end of your stick from the
other," growled the irate team captain.

Banneker played well that afternoon because he played recklessly. Lack
of practice sometimes works out that way; as if luck took charge of a
man's play and carried him through. Three of the five goals made by the
second team fell to his mallet, and he left the field heartily cursed on
all sides for his recalcitrancy in throwing himself away on work when
the sport of sports called him. Regretful, yet well pleased with
himself, he had his bath, his one, lone drink, and leisurely got into
his evening clothes. Cressey met him at the entry to the guest's lounge
giving on the general dining-room.

"Damned if you're not a good-lookin' chap, Ban!" he declared with
something like envy in his voice. "Thinn