d then Walker showed himself in what Mackintosh considered a
characteristic light. He played regardless of his partner, calling up
in his desire to play the hand, and argued interminably, beating down
opposition by the loudness of his voice. He constantly revoked, and when
he did so said with an ingratiating whine: "Oh, you wouldn't count it
against an old man who can hardly see." Did he know that his opponents
thought it as well to keep on the right side of him and hesitated to
insist on the rigour of the game? Mackintosh watched him with an icy
contempt. When the game was over, while they smoked their pipes and
drank whisky, they would begin telling stories. Walker told with gusto
the story of his marriage. He had got so drunk at the wedding feast that
the bride had fled and he had never seen her since. He had had
numberless adventures, commonplace and sordid, with the women of the
island and he described them with a pride in his own prowess which was
an offence to Mackintosh's fastidious ears. He was a gross, sensual old
man. He thought Mackintosh a poor fellow because he would not share his
promiscuous amours and remained sober when the company was drunk.

He despised him also for the orderliness with which he did his official
work. Mackintosh liked to do everything just so. His desk was always
tidy, his papers were always neatly docketed, he could put his hand on
any document that was needed, and he had at his fingers' ends all the
regulations that were required for the business of their administration.

"Fudge, fudge," said Walker. "I've run this island for twenty years
without red tape, and I don't want it now."

"Does it make it any easier for you that when you want a letter you have
to hunt half an hour for it?" answered Mackintosh.

"You're nothing but a damned official. But you're not a bad fellow; when
you've been out here a year or two you'll be all right. What's wrong
about you is that you won't drink. You wouldn't be a bad sort if you got
soused once a week."

The curious thing was that Walker remained perfectly unconscious of the
dislike for him which every month increased in the breast of his
subordinate. Although he laughed at him, as he grew accustomed to him,
he began almost to like him. He had a certain tolerance for the
peculiarities of others, and he accepted Mackintosh as a queer fish.
Perhaps he liked him, unconsciously, because he could chaff him. His
humour consisted of coarse banter and h