“Did you see Miss Kenwardine when you came for a game?”
“I did, but I want to point out that I came to see you. She walked through the patio, where we generally sat, and spoke to us pleasantly, but seldom stopped more than a minute. A matter of politeness, I imagine, and no doubt she’d sooner have stayed away.”
“Kenwardine ought to keep her away. One wonders why he brought the girl to a place like this.”
Jake frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps your remark is justified, in a sense, but you mustn’t carry the idea too far. He’s not using his daughter as an attraction; it’s unthinkable.”
“That is so,” agreed Dick.
“Well,” said Jake, “I allow that our talking about it is in pretty bad taste, but my view is this: Somehow, I don’t think Kenwardine has much money and he may feel he has to give the girl a chance.”
“To marry some gambling rake?”
“No,” said Jake sharply. “It doesn’t follow that a man is trash because he stakes a dollar or two now and then, and there are some pretty straight fellows in Santa Brigida.” Then he paused and grinned. “Take yourself, for example; you’ve talent enough to carry you some way, and I’m open to allow you’re about as sober as a man could be.”
“As it happens, I’m not eligible,” Dick rejoined with a touch of grimness. “Kenwardine wouldn’t think me worth powder and shot, and I’ve a disadvantage you don’t know of yet.”
“Anyhow, it strikes me you’re taking a rather strange line. Kenwardine let us bring you here when you were badly hurt, and Miss Kenwardine has given herself a good deal of trouble about you. In fact, I guess you owe it to her that you’re recovering.”