f thing?"

"No, it's not," agreed Sally. "But don't let's talk about it any more.
Tell me all about your trip to Chicago."

"All right. But, returning to this binge for a moment, I don't see
how it matters to you one way or the other. You're engaged to another
fellow, and when Bruce rolls up and says: 'What about it?' you've simply
to tell him that the shot isn't on the board and will he kindly melt
away. Then you hand him his hat and out he goes."

Sally gave a troubled laugh.

"You think that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a girl
enjoys that sort of thing? Oh, what's the use of talking about it? It's
horrible, and no amount of arguing will make it anything else. Do let's
change the subject. How did you like Chicago?"

"Oh, all right. Rather a grubby sort of place."

"So I've always heard. But you ought not to mind that, being a
Londoner."

"Oh, I didn't mind it. As a matter of fact, I had rather a good time.
Saw one or two shows, you know. Got in on my face as your brother's
representative, which was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy how
you run into people when you move about, isn't it?"

"You talk as if you had been dashing about the streets with your eyes
shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?"

"Chap I hadn't seen for years. Was at school with him, as a matter of
fact. Fellow named Foster. But I expect you know him, too, don't you? By
name, at any rate. He wrote your brother's show."

Sally's heart jumped.

"Oh! Did you meet Gerald--Foster?"

"Ran into him one night at the theatre."

"And you were really at school with him?"

"Yes. He was in the footer team with me my last year."

"Was he a scrum-half, too?" asked Sally, dimpling.

Ginger looked shocked.

"You don't have two scrum-halves in a team," he said, pained at this
ignorance on a vital matter. "The scrum-half is the half who works the
scrum and..."

"Yes, you told me that at Roville. What was Gerald--Mr. Foster then? A
six and seven-eighths, or something?"

"He was a wing-three," said Ginger with a gravity befitting his theme.
"Rather fast, with a fairly decent swerve. But he would not learn to
give the reverse pass inside to the centre."

"Ghastly!" said Sally.

"If," said Ginger earnestly, "a wing's bottled up by his wing and the
back, the only thing he can do, if he doesn't want to be bundled into
touch, is to give the reverse pass."

"I know," said Sally. "If I've thought that once, I've thought it a
hun