oston 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. Carmyl