ress on the words that it would seem
almost impossible for anyone not to see that they were shot through with
self-depreciation.

The Girl gave him a playful dig with her elbow.

"Go on! What are you givin' me! O' course they don't . . .!" She laughed
outright; but the next instant checking herself, went on with absolute
ingenuousness: "Before I went on that trip to Monterey I tho't Rance
here was the genuine thing in a gent, but the minute I kind o' glanced
over you on the road I--I seen he wasn't." She stopped, a realisation
having suddenly been borne in upon her that perhaps she was laying her
heart too bare to him. To cover up her embarrassment, therefore, she
took refuge, as before, in hospitality, and rushing over to the bar she
called to Nick to come and serve Mr. Johnson with a drink, only to
dismiss him the moment he put his head through the door with: "Never
mind, I'll help Mr. Johnson m'self." Turning to her visitor again, she
said: "Have your whisky with water, won't you?"

"But I don't--" began Johnson in protest.

"Say," interrupted the Girl, falling back into her favourite position of
resting both elbows on the bar, her face in her hands, "I've got you
figgered out. You're awful good or awful bad." A remark which seemed to
amuse the man, for he laughed heartily.

"Now, what do you mean by that?" presently he asked.

"Well, I mean so good that you're a teetotaller, or so bad that you're
tired o' life an' whisky."

Johnson shook his head.

"On the contrary, although I'm not good, I've lived and I've liked life
pretty well. It's been bully!"

Surprised and delighted with his enthusiasm, the Girl raised her eyes to
his, which look he mistook--not unnaturally after all that had been
said--for one of encouragement. A moment more and the restraint that he
had exercised over himself had vanished completely.

"So have you liked it, Girl," he went on, trying vainly to get
possession of her hand, "only you haven't lived, you haven't lived--not
with your nature. You see I've got a quick eye, too."

To Johnson's amazement she flushed and averted her face. Following the
direction of her eyes he saw Nick standing in the door with a broad grin
on his face.

"You git, Nick! What do you mean by . . .?" cried out the Girl in a tone
that left no doubt in the minds of her hearers that she was annoyed, if
not angry, at the intrusion.

Nick disappeared into the dance-hall as though shot out of a gun;
whereupon,