Lal only shrugged his shoulders. Meryon, who was still standing, dropped the cards and put his hand on Lal’s arm. “What is the matter?” he said, tenderly. “What’s worrying you, old fellow?”
Lal did not answer, because he was incapable of explaining. It was necessary for his interlocutor to drag the truth out of him by questions. Dolly had found out this; but whereas Lal’s desire had been to escape from her, he was anxious to make confession to Meryon.
“I say, old fellow, is it a girl?” questioned the gambler.
“Yes.”
“Then, of course, it’s serious; it would be with you. Won’t she have you?”
“I haven’t asked her.”
“Have you had a quarrel?”
“I have just met her, and she cut me dead. Heaven knows why; I don’t.”
Meryon, by a string of questions, contrived to elicit the story of Lal’s courtship. The cause of Dolly’s coldness puzzled him, as it had puzzled Lal, but after several abortive inquiries he hit at last on the right track.
“I don’t see what could have happened while the meeting was going on to make her change so. What were you doing all the time?”