"And after all I've done for her," said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, hisvoice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combinedeffects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock,"after all I've done for her she throws me down."Sally did not reply. The orchestra of the Flower Garden was of acalibre that discouraged vocal competition; and she was having,moreover, too much difficulty in adjusting her feet to Mr. Cracknell'serratic dance-steps to employ her attention elsewhere. They manoeuvredjerkily past the table where Miss Mabel Hobson, the Flower Garden'snewest "hostess," sat watching the revels with a distant hauteur. MissHobson was looking her most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowfulgulp escaped the stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.

　　"If I told you," he moaned in Sally's ear, "what... was that your ankle?

　　Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I hadspent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws medown. And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn'tspoken to me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone.

　　And I was right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. Butthat," said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, "is a woman all over!"Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended onhers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpretedthe ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his lastremark, and gallantly tried to make amends.

　　"I don't mean you're like that," he said. "You're different. I couldsee that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's whyI'm telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl andcan understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this jobas hostess here--you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred herin a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave herthose. And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. Iwish you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know,because you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. Idon't know what to do. I come here every night." Sally was aware ofthis. She had seen him often, but this was the first time that LeeSchoenstein, the gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him onher. "I come here every night and dance past her table, but she won'tlook at me. What," asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes,"would you do about it?""I don't know," said Sally, frankly.

　　"Nor do I. I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, ifyou can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?" pleaded Mr.

　　Cracknell, urgently. "But I know you won't because you're a sensible...