of the jewelry booth. "Meet you--satisfaction--honor," he
was saying stupidly.

A native policeman elbowed his way through the throng, urging some
Arabic question upon Billy, who caught its import and replied with
the few sentences of reassurance at his command, pointing to the
banana peel as the cause of all. A fat dragoman had suddenly
appeared from nowhere and was hurriedly attempting to lead away the
intoxicated one.

"You in charge of him? Take him to his hotel and throw him in the
tub," said Billy curtly, and the dragoman replied with profound
respect that he would do even as the heaven-born commanded.

Brushing off his clothes Billy shouldered his way out of the throng
and was met by two bright and grateful eyes and a slim, bare,
outstretched hand.

"Thank you _so_ much--I am _so_ sorry," said the musical voice.

"You shouldn't have waited," said Billy, with a prompt pressure of
the friendly little hand. "It might have been a real row."

"I couldn't run away," she said in serious protest at such
ingratitude. "I had to see what happened to you. And I am so sorry
about your clothes."

"Not hurt a particle--I chose a fortunate place to drop," he
returned lightly, but distinctly chagrined that he _had_ dropped.

"It was so fine of you," she answered, "just to parry him like
that--when he'd been drinking. I saw what you did." And then she
added, very matter-of-factly, "And I'm afraid your nose is bleeding,
too."

Billy put up a startled hand. In the general soreness he had not
noticed that warm trickle. His whole face turned as scarlet as the
shameless blood. Frantically he rummaged with the other hand.

The girl thrust a square of white linen upon him. "Please take
mine--it will ruin your clothes if it gets on them."

Her immense practicality refused to be embarrassed in the least.
Feeling immensely foolish Billy accepted hers, but then he
discovered his own handkerchief and stuffed hers away into his
pocket.

"You're a trump," he said heartily. "And it's all right now--all but
the swelling, I suppose." He sounded rueful. He had remembered his
engagement for the evening.

Her head a little aslant, the girl regarded him critically. "N-no,
it doesn't seem to be swelling," she observed. "Of course it's a
little red but that will pass."

They were walking side by side out of the narrow street and now, on
a crowded corner, they paused and looked around. "I left Miss
Falconer at the Maltese laces," she