She laughed freely. She was always showing her fine teeth. And she had such a frank, jolly countenance, not exactly pretty--better than pretty. She was a little short and a little plump, and she wore a necklace round her neck, a ring on her dainty, dirty finger, and a watch-bracelet on her wrist. 'Why!' she exclaimed. 'How old are you?' 'How old are _you_?' he retorted. Dogs do not give things away like that. 'I'm nineteen,' she said submissively. 'At least, I shall be come Martinmas.' And she yawned. 'Well,' he said, 'a little girl like you ought to be in bed.' 'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed. 'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris you'd have to work Sundays too.' 'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?' 'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.' 'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't allow it. I know what the police are.' More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly--with him. He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a certain high reserve. They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the lounge and gazed at him provocatively. 'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!' The thought ran through him like lightning. 'Well?' she said. 'What do you do with yourself Sundays?' he asked her. 'Oh, sleep.' 'All day?' 'All morning.' 'What do you do in the afternoon?' 'Oh, nothing.' She laughed gaily. 'Come out with me, eh?' 'To-morrow? Oh, I should LOVE TO!' she cried. Her voice expanded into large capitals because by a singular chance both the neighbouring orchestras stopped momentarily together, and thus gave her shout a fair field. The effect was startling. It startled Ellis. He had not for an instant expected that she would consent. Never, dog though he was, had he armed a girl out on any afternoon, to say nothing of Sunday afternoon, and Knype's Wakes Sunday at that! He had talked about girls at the club. He understood the theory. But the practice---- The foundation of England's greatness is that Englishmen hate to look fools. The fear of being taken for a ninny will spur an Englishman to the most surprising deeds of courage. Ellis said 'Good!' with apparent enthusiasm, and arranged to be waiting for her at half-past two at the Turk's Head. Then he left the saloon and struck out anew into the ocean. He wanted to think it over. Once, painful to relate, he had thoughts of failing to keep the appointment. However, she was so jolly and frank. And what a fancy she must have taken to him! No, he would see it through. IV