"Whether he knew that it was I whom he saw, I can't tell." Garratt Skinner sat for a little while smoking his cigar in short, angry puffs.
"I wouldn't have had that happen for worlds," he said, with a frown.

"I have no doubt whatever that the slips of paper on which poor Hine was trying to write were I.O.U's.

Heaven knows what he lost last night." "I know," returned Sylvia.

"He lost L480 last night." "Impossible," cried Garratt Skinner, with so much violence that the people lunching at the tables near-by looked up at the couple with surprise.

"Oh, no! I'll not believe it, Sylvia." And as he lowered his voice, he seemed to be making an appeal to her to go back upon her words, so distressed was he at the thought that Wallie Hine should be jockeyed out of so much money at his house.
"Four hundred and eighty pounds," Sylvia repeated.
Garratt Skinner caught at a comforting thought.
"Well, it's only in I.O.U's.