made you stop."

"You considered that a fortunate occurrence, did you?" said Wally.
"Well, perhaps from your point of view it may have been. I saw the
thing from a different angle. Your uncle had a whangee with him. My
friends sometimes wonder what I mean when I say that my old wound
troubles me in frosty weather. By the way, how is your uncle?"

"Oh, he's very well. Just as lazy as ever. He's away at present, down
at Brighton."

"He didn't strike me as lazy," said Wally thoughtfully. "Dynamic would
express it better. But perhaps I happened to encounter him in a moment
of energy. Ah!" The waiter had returned with a loaded tray. "The food!
Forgive me if I seem a little distrait for a moment or two. There is
man's work before me!"

"And later on, I suppose, you would like a chop or something to take
away in your pocket?"

"I will think it over. Possibly a little soup. My needs are very
simple these days."

Jill watched him with a growing sense of satisfaction. There was
something boyishly engaging about this man. She felt at home with him.
He affected her in much the same way as did Freddie Rooke. He was a
definite addition to the things that went to make her happy.

She liked him particularly for being such a good loser. She had
always been a good loser herself, and the quality was one which she
admired. It was nice of him to dismiss from his conversation--and
apparently from his thoughts--that night's fiasco and all that it must
have cost him. She wondered how much he had lost. Certainly something
very substantial. Yet it seemed to trouble him not at all. Jill
considered his behaviour gallant, and her heart warmed to him. This
was how a man ought to take the slings and arrows of outrageous
fortune.

Wally sighed contentedly, and leaned back in his chair.

"An unpleasant exhibition!" he said apologetically. "But unavoidable.
And, anyway, I take it that you prefer to have me well-fed and happy
about the place than swooning on the floor with starvation. A
wonderful thing, food! I am now ready to converse intelligently on any
subject you care to suggest. I have eaten rose-leaves and am no more a
golden ass, so to speak. What shall we talk about?"

"Tell me about yourself."

"There is no nobler topic. But what aspect of myself do you wish me to
touch on? My thoughts, my tastes, my amusements, my career, or what? I
can talk about myself for hours. My friends in New York often complain
about it bitterly."

"N