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