Roger awoke just a minute too late to the fact that they had been alone together and that he had missed the opportunity he had been waiting for. He always preferred to approach Judith on money matters casually, and not as though the occasion were of his own seeking. It certainly was absurd for a man of his years and income to be kept in leading-strings by his own sister. However, there was no help for it, and Judith had always been a good sort, he would say that for her. He needed a cheque, and he might as well get it over with at once. He found her in the garden, examining some flowers which had just been set out. Flowers were her one hobby, and he knew that a resort to them usually indicated a certain degree of boredom with those around her. But he went straight to the point. "Say, sis, I'm running into town presently. Can you come in and draw me a cheque? Better make it five hundred this time, to keep me going a while." "You lost again last night, Roger?" "Lost?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Lord! Yes, I lost all right. The family resources can stand it, can't they?" "How much?" "Oh, don't ask me to figure now. My head's like a ship in a storm this morning. I don't know--lots." "How much, Roger?" "Oh, come on, sis, I'm in a hurry. Draw the cheque like a good girl ... let's talk about it to-morrow." Suddenly he caught the expression on his sister's face. It was an expression he seldom saw; one that he did not like. "Well, if you have got to have the horrible truth," he snapped petulantly, "I'm cleaned out ... absolute bust ... I still owe a few hundred to Faxon," he added reluctantly. She sighed. "Again." "Nothing's broken right for me. Absolutely nothing. You saw yourself the way the cards treated me last night." Her eyes flashed. "You've got to be fairly sober to play a decent game of cards, Roger." He looked aggrieved. "I was sober--almost. Sober enough, anyway. It was luck, I tell you--just the beastly rotten luck I always have. I never did have any luck, from the day I was born. Why, any other chap, with my chances ..." "Roger," interrupted his sister shortly, as if she had not heard him at all. "Why do you find it necessary to throw away every cent you get? What's your idea?" "My idea?" "Yes. What's in your head about the future? What are you going to do with yourself? What do you think about--about--oh, things in general?" He looked his bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't quite connect, sis ..." "I want to know if you've--well--I'd like to know ... just how you stand with yourself." Her brother eyed her curiously. "What's struck you anyway?" he demanded. "What's happened to make you take on like this all of a sudden?"