Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment. He looked awkwardly about the room. “It's not worth talking about.” “It is worth talking about. I've a right to know. It was I who sent you to Fillmore...” “Now that,” said Ginger, “was jolly decent of you.” “Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to let you go without saying a word to me. What happened?” Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily. “Well, it was rather unfortunate. You see, his wife--I don't know if you know her?...” “Of course I know her.” “Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean,” said Ginger acutely. “Though, as a matter of fact, you often find sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a fellow...” “Ginger,” said Sally, “it's no good your thinking you can get out of telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying...” Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme. “Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started fooling about...” “Fooling about?” “Well, kind of chivvying each other.” “Chivvying?” “At least I was.” “You were what?” “Sort of chasing her a bit, you know.” Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement. “What do you mean?” Ginger's embarrassment increased. “The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly when I happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was there till she suddenly grabbed it...” “Grabbed what?” “The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it... collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy her to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened to roll in. I suppose,” said Ginger, putting two and two together, “he had really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for a minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife. Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it,” said Ginger, ever fair-minded. “Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but a bit later in the day he called me in and administered the push.” Sally shook her head. “It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took from you?” “Oh, just something.” Sally rapped the table imperiously. “Ginger!” “Well, as a matter of fact,” said her goaded visitor, “It was a photograph.” “Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?” “Well... you, to be absolutely accurate.” “Me?” Sally stared. “But I've never given you a photograph of myself.” Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple. “You didn't exactly give it to me,” he mumbled. “When I say give, I mean...”