He had determined to be a lost character, a wayward son, a gentleman sport, with nerves of steel. The sentimental values appealed to his imagination. It gave a deep romantic tinge to the too matter-of-fact freckled nose and hungry mouth. Besides the end was noble and the end was Miss Jennie Tupper. The new role of course had certain exigencies. To be an interesting reprobate and engage Miss Jenny Tupper's sentimental proclivities for redemption, it was necessary to present some concrete evidence of a sinful life. He was shockingly deficient in all the habits that lead to the gallows. Desperate characters he remembered (recalling the Doctor's terrific sermons on the Demon Cigarettes which are the nails in the coffins of mothers) usually had their fingers stained with telltale traces of the nicotine which was gnawing at their lungs. He ensconced himself by the fireplace (out of deference to Snorky's estimate of the governor) and taking care not to inhale, smoked a cigarette to the end. But the result was unsatisfactory. He burned his fingers over the distasteful performance but acquired nothing in the way of a stain. He smoked a second and a third and then seized by an inspiration carefully rubbed in the moist ends. * * * * * When they walked back from the beach that morning Miss Jennie Tupper lost no time in opening up the fascinating subject of the sinful one's reclamation. Skippy had just brought forth a cigarette, tapped it professionally on his wrist and said: "Don't mind, do you?" "I do mind," said Miss Tupper severely. "Juth look at your hand. It ith thaking." Skippy extended a palsied hand with the second and third fingers yellowed like a Chinaman's. "It's worse this morning," he said carelessly with the sigh of one who contemplates stoically the approaching end. "It's tewible, tewible to let a habit make a slave of you like that! At your age too! How did it ever get such a dweadful hold on you?" "I began as a boy," said Skippy slowly, for he had still to work out the story. "You know how it is. Fast company, money in your pockets, no one caring. That's it, that's how it was." He raised the cigarette to his lips. "Don't smoke it, pleath." "Just one, just half a one," said Skippy with a haunted look. "My Lord, it's been an hour--" "Pleath for my thake, Jack." He hesitated, swallowed hard, made one or two false gestures, and flung away the cigarette. "If you ask it like that," he said huskily. "I'm going to athk more," said Miss Tupper with shining eyes. "I'm going to athk you to pwomith never to touch another thigawette or another card." "I can't," said Skippy. "It's gone too far, it's beyond me." "But it'll kill you, Jack," said Miss Tupper, alarm in the beautiful eyes. "I couldn't promise. I couldn't keep it," said Skippy, who had no intention of relinquishing his dramatic advantage, "but I'll make a fight for it. If you want me to--Jennie. If you really care?"