By six o'clock on the following evening, however. Sally had beenforced to the conclusion that Ginger would have to struggle through lifeas best he could without the assistance of her contemplated remarks: forshe had seen nothing of him all day and in another hour she would haveleft Roville on the seven-fifteen express which was to take her toParis, en route for Cherbourg and the liner whereon she had booked herpassage for New York.

　　It was in the faint hope of finding him even now that, at half-past six,having conveyed her baggage to the station and left it in charge of anamiable porter, she paid a last visit to the Casino Municipale. Shedisliked the thought of leaving Ginger without having uplifted him. Likeso many alert and active-minded girls, she possessed in a great degreethe quality of interesting herself in--or, as her brother Fillmorepreferred to put it, messing about with--the private affairs of others.

　　Ginger had impressed her as a man to whom it was worth while to give afriendly shove on the right path; and it was with much gratification,therefore, that, having entered the Casino, she perceived a flaming headshining through the crowd which had gathered at one of theroulette-tables.

　　There are two Casinos at Roville-sur-Mer. The one on the Promenade goesin mostly for sea-air and a mild game called boule. It is the big CasinoMunicipale down in the Palace Massena near the railway station which isthe haunt of the earnest gambler who means business; and it was plain toSally directly she arrived that Ginger Kemp not only meant business butwas getting results. Ginger was going extremely strong. He wasentrenched behind an opulent-looking mound of square counters: and, evenas Sally looked, a wooden-faced croupier shoved a further instalmentacross the table to him at the end of his long rake.

　　"Epatant!" murmured a wistful man at Sally's side, removing an elbowfrom her ribs in order the better to gesticulate Sally, though no Frenchscholar, gathered that he was startled and gratified. The entire crowdseemed to be startled and gratified. There is undoubtedly a certainaltruism in the make-up of the spectators at a Continentalroulette-table. They seem to derive a spiritual pleasure from seeingsomebody else win.

　　The croupier gave his moustache a twist with his left hand and the wheela twist with his right, and silence fell again. Sally, who had shiftedto a spot where the pressure of the crowd was less acute, was now ableto see Ginger's face, and as she saw it she gave an involuntary laugh.

　　He looked exactly like a dog at a rat-hole. His hair seemed to bristlewith excitement. One could almost fancy that his ears were pricked up.

　　In the tense hush which had fallen on the crowd at the restarting of thewheel, Sally's laugh rang out with an embarrassing clearness. It had amarked effect on all those within hearing. There is something almost ofreligious ecstasy in the deportment of the spectators at a table whereanyone is having a run of luck at roulette, and if she had guffawed in acathedral she could not have caused a more pained consternation. Theearnest worshippers gazed at her with shocked eyes, and Ginger, turningwith a start, saw her and jumped up. As he did so, the ball fell with arattling click into a red compartment of the wheel; and, as it ceased torevolve and it was seen that at last the big winner had picked the wrongcolour, a shuddering groan ran through the congregation like that whichconvulses the penitents' bench at a negro revival meeting. More glancesof reproach were cast at Sally. It was generally felt that herinjudicious behaviour had changed Ginger's luck.

　　The only person who did not appear to be concerned was Ginger himself.

　　He gathered up his loot, thrust it into his pocket, and elbowed his wayto where Sally stood, now definitely established in the eyes of thecrowd as a pariah. There was universal regret that he had decided tocall it a day. It was to the spectators as though a star had suddenlywalked off the stage in the middle of his big scene; and not even a loudand violent quarrel which sprang up at this moment between two excitablegamblers over a disputed five-franc counter could wholly console them.

　　"I say," said Ginger, dexterously plucking Sally out of the crowd, "thisis topping, meeting you like this. I've been looking for youeverywhere.""It's funny you didn't find me, then, for that's where I've been. I waslooking for you.""No, really?" Ginger seemed pleased. He led the way to the quietante-room outside the gambling-hall, and they sat down in a corner. Itwas pleasant here, with nobody near except the gorgeously uniformedattendant over by the door. "That was awfully good of you.""I felt I must have a talk with you before my train went."Ginger started violently.

　　"Your train? What do you mean?""The puff-puff," explained Sally. "I'm leaving to-night, you know.""Leaving?" Ginger looked as horrified as the devoutest of thecongregation of which Sally had just ceased to be a member. "You don'tmean leaving? You're not going away from Roville?""I'm afraid so.""But why? Where are you going?""Back to America. My boat sails from Cherbourg tomorrow.""Oh, my aunt!""I'm sorry," said Sally, touched by his concern. She was a warm-heartedgirl and liked being appreciated. "But...""I say..." Ginger Kemp turned bright scarlet and glared before him atthe uniformed official, who was regarding their tête-à-tête with theindulgent eye of one who has been through this sort of thing himself. "Isay, look here, will you marry me?"Sally stared at his vermilion profile in frank amazement. Ginger, shehad realized by this time, was in many ways a surprising young man, butshe had not expected him to be as surprising as this.

　　"Marry you!""You know what I mean.""Well, yes, I suppose I do. You allude to the holy state. Yes, I knowwhat you mean.""Then how about it?"Sally began to regain her composure. Her sense of humour was tickled.

　　She looked at Ginger gravely. He did not meet her eye, but continued todrink in the uniformed official, who was by now so carried away by theromance of it all that he had begun to hum a love-ballad under hisbreath. The official could not hear what they were saying, and would nothave been able to understand it even if he could have heard; but he wasan expert in the language of the eyes.

　　"But isn't this--don't think I am trying to make difficulties--isn'tthis a little sudden?""It's got to be sudden," said Ginger Kemp, complainingly. "I thoughtyou were going to be here for weeks.""But, my infant, my babe, has it occurred to you that we are practicallystrangers?" She patted his hand tolerantly, causing the uniformedofficial to heave a tender sigh. "I see what has happened," she said.

　　"You're mistaking me for some other girl, some girl you know reallywell, and were properly introduced to. Take a good look at me, andyou'll see.""If I take a good look at you," said Ginger, feverishly, "I'm dashed ifI'll answer for the consequences.""And this is the man I was going to lecture on 'Enterprise.'""You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, dash it!" said Ginger,his gaze still riveted on the official by the door "I dare say it issudden. I can't help that. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,and there you are!""But...""Now, look here, I know I'm not much of a chap and all that, but...

　　well, I've just won the deuce of a lot of money in there...""Would you buy me with your gold?""I mean to say, we should have enough to start on, and... of course I'vemade an infernal hash of everything I've tried up till now, but theremust be something I can do, and you can jolly well bet I'd have agoodish stab at it. I mean to say, with you to buck me up and so forth,don't you know. Well, I mean...""Has it struck you that I may already be engaged to someone else?""Oh, golly! Are you?"For the first time he turned and faced her, and there was a look in hiseyes which touched Sally and drove all sense of the ludicrous out ofher. Absurd as it was, this man was really serious.

　　"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am," she said soberly.

　　Ginger Kemp bit his lip and for a moment was silent.

　　"Oh, well, that's torn it!" he said at last.

　　Sally was aware of an emotion too complex to analyse. There was pity init, but amusement too. The emotion, though she did not recognize it, wasmaternal. Mothers, listening to their children pleading with engagingabsurdity for something wholly out of their power to bestow, feel thatsame wavering between tears and laughter. Sally wanted to pick Ginger upand kiss him. The one thing she could not do was to look on him, sorryas she was for him, as a reasonable, grown-up man.

　　"You don't really mean it, you know.""Don't I!" said Ginger, hollowly. "Oh, don't I!""You can't! There isn't such a thing in real life as love at firstsight. Love's a thing that comes when you know a person well and..." Shepaused. It had just occurred to her that she was hardly the girl tolecture in this strain. Her love for Gerald Foster had been sufficientlysudden, even instantaneous. What did she know of Gerald except that sheloved him? They had become engaged within two weeks of their firstmeeting. She found this recollection damping to her eloquence, and endedby saying tamely:

　　"It's ridiculous."Ginger had simmered down to a mood of melancholy resignation.

　　"I couldn't have expected you to care for me, I suppose, anyway," hesaid, sombrely. "I'm not much of a chap."It was just the diversion from the theme under discussion which Sallyhad been longing to find. She welcomed the chance of continuing theconversation on a less intimate and sentimental note.

　　"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, seizingthe opportunity offered by this display of humility. "I've been lookingfor you all day to go on with what I was starting to say in the liftlast night when we were interrupted. Do you mind if I talk to you likean aunt--or a sister, suppose we say? Really, the best plan would be foryou to adopt me as an honorary sister. What do you think?"Ginger did not appear noticeably elated at the suggested relationship.

　　"Because I really do take a tremendous interest in you."Ginger brightened. "That's awfully good of you.""I'm going to speak words of wisdom. Ginger, why don't you brace up?""Brace up?""Yes, stiffen your backbone and stick out your chin, and square yourelbows, and really amount to something. Why do you simply flop about anddo nothing and leave everything to what you call 'the family'? Why doyou have to be helped all the time? Why don't you help yourself? Why doyou have to have jobs found for you? Why don't you rush out and get one?

　　Why do you have to worry about what, 'the family' thinks of you? Whydon't you make yourself independent of them? I know you had hard luck,suddenly finding yourself without money and all that, but, good heavens,everybody else in the world who has ever done anything has been broke atone time or another. It's part of the fun. You'll never get anywhere byletting yourself be picked up by the family like... like a floppyNewfoundland puppy and dumped down in any old place that happens to suitthem. A job's a thing you've got to choose for yourself and get foryourself. Think what you can do--there must be something--and then go atit with a snort and grab it and hold it down and teach it to take ajoke. You've managed to collect some money. It will give you time tolook round. And, when you've had a look round, do something! Try torealize you're alive, and try to imagine the family isn't!"Sally stopped and drew a deep breath. Ginger Kemp did not reply for amoment. He seemed greatly impressed.

　　"When you talk quick," he said at length, in a serious meditative voice,"your nose sort of goes all squiggly. Ripping, it looks!"Sally uttered an indignant cry.

　　"Do you mean to say you haven't been listening to a word I've beensaying," she demanded.

　　"Oh, rather! Oh, by Jove, yes.""Well, what did I say?""You... er... And your eyes sort of shine, too.""Never mind my eyes. What did I say?""You told me," said Ginger, on reflection, "to get a job.""Well, yes. I put it much better than that, but that's what it amountedto, I suppose. All right, then. I'm glad you..."Ginger was eyeing her with mournful devotion. "I say," he interrupted,"I wish you'd let me write to you. Letters, I mean, and all that. I havean idea it would kind of buck me up.""You won't have time for writing letters.""I'll have time to write them to you. You haven't an address oranything of that sort in America, have you, by any chance? I mean, sothat I'd know where to write to.""I can give you an address which will always find me." She told him thenumber and street of Mrs. Meecher's boarding-house, and he wrote themdown reverently on his shirt-cuff. "Yes, on second thoughts, do write,"she said. "Of course, I shall want to know how you've got on. I... oh,my goodness! That clock's not right?""Just about. What time does your train go?""Go! It's gone! Or, at least, it goes in about two seconds." She made arush for the swing-door, to the confusion of the uniformed official whohad not been expecting this sudden activity. "Good-bye, Ginger. Write tome, and remember what I said."Ginger, alert after his unexpected fashion when it became a question ofphysical action, had followed her through the swing-door, and theyemerged together and started running down the square.

　　"Stick it!" said Ginger, encouragingly. He was running easily and well,as becomes a man who, in his day, had been a snip for his internationalat scrum-half.

　　Sally saved her breath. The train was beginning to move slowly out ofthe station as they sprinted abreast on to the platform. Ginger divedfor the nearest door, wrenched it open, gathered Sally neatly in hisarms, and flung her in. She landed squarely on the toes of a man whooccupied the corner seat, and, bounding off again, made for the window.

　　Ginger, faithful to the last, was trotting beside the train as itgathered speed.

　　"Ginger! My poor porter! Tip him. I forgot.""Right ho!""And don't forget what I've been saying.""Right ho!""Look after yourself and 'Death to the Family!'""Right ho!"The train passed smoothly out of the station. Sally cast one last lookback at her red-haired friend, who had now halted and was waving ahandkerchief. Then she turned to apologize to the other occupant of thecarriage.

　　"I'm so sorry," she said, breathlessly. "I hope I didn't hurt you."She found herself facing Ginger's cousin, the dark man of yesterday'sepisode on the beach, Bruce Carmyle.

　　Mr. Carmyle was not a man who readily allowed himself to be disturbed bylife's little surprises, but at the present moment he could not helpfeeling slightly dazed. He recognized Sally now as the French girl whohad attracted his cousin Lancelot's notice on the beach. At least he hadassumed that she was French, and it was startling to be addressed by hernow in fluent English. How had she suddenly acquired this gift oftongues? And how on earth had she had time since yesterday, when he hadbeen a total stranger to her, to become sufficiently intimate withCousin Lancelot to be sprinting with him down station platforms andaddressing him out of railway-carriage windows as Ginger? Bruce Carmylewas aware that most members of that sub-species of humanity, hiscousin's personal friends, called him by that familiar--and, so Carmyleheld, vulgar--nickname: but how had this girl got hold of it?

　　If Sally had been less pretty, Mr. Carmyle would undoubtedly havelooked disapprovingly at her, for she had given his rather rigid senseof the proprieties a nasty jar. But as, panting and flushed from herrun, she was prettier than any girl he had yet met, he contrived tosmile.

　　"Not at all," he said in answer to her question, though it was far fromthe truth. His left big toe was aching confoundedly. Even a girl with afoot as small as Sally's can make her presence felt on a man's toe ifthe scrum-half who is handling her aims well and uses plenty of vigour.

　　"If you don't mind," said Sally, sitting down, "I think I'll breathe alittle."She breathed. The train sped on.

　　"Quite a close thing," said Bruce Carmyle, affably. The pain in his toewas diminishing. "You nearly missed it.""Yes. It was lucky Mr. Kemp was with me. He throws very straight,doesn't he.""Tell me," said Carmyle, "how do you come to know my Cousin? On thebeach yesterday morning...""Oh, we didn't know each other then. But we were staying at the samehotel, and we spent an hour or so shut up in an elevator together. Thatwas when we really got acquainted."A waiter entered the compartment, announcing in unexpected English thatdinner was served in the restaurant car. "Would you care for dinner?""I'm starving," said Sally.

　　She reproved herself, as they made their way down the corridor, forbeing so foolish as to judge anyone by his appearance. This man wasperfectly pleasant in spite of his grim exterior. She had decided by thetime they had seated themselves at the table she liked him.

　　At the table, however, Mr. Carmyle's manner changed for the worse. Helost his amiability. He was evidently a man who took his meals seriouslyand believed in treating waiters with severity. He shuddered austerelyat a stain on the table-cloth, and then concentrated himself frowninglyon the bill of fare. Sally, meanwhile, was establishing cosy relationswith the much too friendly waiter, a cheerful old man who from the startseemed to have made up his mind to regard her as a favourite daughter.

　　The waiter talked no English and Sally no French, but they were gettingalong capitally, when Mr. Carmyle, who had been irritably waving asidethe servitor's light-hearted advice--at the Hotel Splendide the waitersnever bent over you and breathed cordial suggestions down the side ofyour face--gave his order crisply in the Anglo-Gallic dialect of thetravelling Briton. The waiter remarked, "Boum!" in a pleased sort ofway, and vanished.

　　"Nice old man!" said Sally.

　　"Infernally familiar!" said Mr. Carmyle.

　　Sally perceived that on the topic of the waiter she and her host did notsee eye to eye and that little pleasure or profit could be derived fromany discussion centring about him. She changed the subject. She was notliking Mr. Carmyle quite so much as she had done a few minutes ago, butit was courteous of him to give her dinner, and she tried to like him asmuch as she could.

　　"By the way," she said, "my name is Nicholas. I always think it's agood thing to start with names, don't you?""Mine...""Oh, I know yours. Ginger--Mr. Kemp told me."Mr. Carmyle, who since the waiter's departure, had been thawing,stiffened again at the mention of Ginger.

　　"Indeed?" he said, coldly. "Apparently you got intimate."Sally did not like his tone. He seemed to be criticizing her, and sheresented criticism from a stranger. Her eyes opened wide and she lookeddangerously across the table.

　　"Why 'apparently'? I told you that we had got intimate, and I explainedhow. You can't stay shut up in an elevator half the night with anybodywithout getting to know him. I found Mr. Kemp very pleasant.""Really?""And very interesting."Mr. Carmyle raised his eyebrows.

　　"Would you call him interesting?""I did call him interesting." Sally was beginning to feel theexhilaration of battle. Men usually made themselves extremely agreeableto her, and she reacted belligerently under the stiff unfriendlinesswhich had come over her companion in the last few minutes.

　　"He told me all about himself.""And you found that interesting?""Why not?""Well..." A frigid half-smile came and went on Bruce Carmyle's darkface. "My cousin has many excellent qualities, no doubt--he used to playfootball well, and I understand that he is a capable amateurpugilist--but I should not have supposed him entertaining. We find him alittle dull.""I thought it was only royalty that called themselves 'we.'""I meant myself--and the rest of the family."The mention of the family was too much for Sally. She had to stoptalking in order to allow her mind to clear itself of rude thoughts.

　　"Mr. Kemp was telling me about Mr. Scrymgeour," she went on at length.

　　Bruce Carmyle stared for a moment at the yard or so of French breadwhich the waiter had placed on the table.

　　"Indeed?" he said. "He has an engaging lack of reticence."The waiter returned bearing soup and dumped it down.

　　"V'la!" he observed, with the satisfied air of a man who hassuccessfully performed a difficult conjuring trick. He smiled at Sallyexpectantly, as though confident of applause from this section of hisaudience at least. But Sally's face was set and rigid. She had beensnubbed, and the sensation was as pleasant as it was novel.

　　"I think Mr. Kemp had hard luck," she said.

　　"If you will excuse me, I would prefer not to discuss the matter."Mr. Carmyle's attitude was that Sally might be a pretty girl, but shewas a stranger, and the intimate affairs of the Family were not to bediscussed with strangers, however prepossessing.

　　"He was quite in the right. Mr. Scrymgeour was beating a dog...""I've heard the details.""Oh, I didn't know that. Well, don't you agree with me, then?""I do not. A man who would throw away an excellent position simplybecause...""Oh, well, if that's your view, I suppose it is useless to talk aboutit.""Quite.""Still, there's no harm in asking what you propose to do aboutGin--about Mr. Kemp."Mr. Carmyle became more glacial.

　　"I'm afraid I cannot discuss..."Sally's quick impatience, nobly restrained till now, finally got thebetter of her.

　　"Oh, for goodness' sake," she snapped, "do try to be human, and don'talways be snubbing people. You remind me of one of those portraits ofmen in the eighteenth century, with wooden faces, who look out of heavygold frames at you with fishy eyes as if you were a regrettableincident.""Rosbif," said the waiter genially, manifesting himself suddenly besidethem as if he had popped up out of a trap.

　　Bruce Carmyle attacked his roast beef morosely. Sally who was in themood when she knew that she would be ashamed of herself later on, butwas full of battle at the moment, sat in silence.

　　"I am sorry," said Mr. Carmyle ponderously, "if my eyes are fishy. Thefact has not been called to my attention before.""I suppose you never had any sisters," said Sally. "They would havetold you."Mr. Carmyle relapsed into an offended dumbness, which lasted till thewaiter had brought the coffee.

　　"I think," said Sally, getting up, "I'll be going now. I don't seem towant any coffee, and, if I stay on, I may say something rude. I thoughtI might be able to put in a good word for Mr. Kemp and save him frombeing massacred, but apparently it's no use. Good-bye, Mr. Carmyle, andthank you for giving me dinner."She made her way down the car, followed by Bruce Carmyle's indignant,yet fascinated, gaze. Strange emotions were stirring in Mr. Carmyle'sbosom.