'Sunday to-morrow,' she observed.
'Aren't you glad you're English?' he remarked. 'If you were in Paris you'd have to work Sundays too.'
'Not me!' she said. 'Who told you that? Have you been to Paris?'
'No,' he admitted cautiously; 'but a friend of mine has, and he told me. He came back only last week, and he says they keep open Sundays, and all night sometimes. Sunday is the great day over there.'
'Well,' said the girl kindly, 'don't you believe it. The police wouldn't allow it. I know what the police are.'
More shooters entered the saloon. Ellis had finished his dozen; he sank into a lounge, and elegantly lighted a cigarette, and watched her serve the other marksmen. She was decidedly charming, and so jolly—with him. He noticed with satisfaction that with the other marksmen she showed a certain high reserve.
They did not stay long, and when they were gone she came across to the lounge and gazed at him provocatively.
'Dashed if she hasn't taken a fancy to me!'
The thought ran through him like lightning.
'Well?' she said.