"Mr. Stephen Cortlandt might."
"Mr. Stephen Cortlandt isn't snobbish, either."
"One has to be on the Canal Zone. Besides, to tell the sordid truth, I haven't any clothes."
Edith silently extended the envelope in her hand; but he laughed.
"Perhaps I'll come to the next dance. I'll be rich then. See!" He showed her a long slip of paper consisting of five coupons, each numbered "8838."
"Lottery tickets!"
He nodded. "Allan had a very particular dream about the number eight, so I invested five dollars 'silver' on his hunch. You know he has the most wonderful dreams. There was one about a whale—it was appallingly vivid."
"But you don't bet on all these miraculous whales and things?"
"Oh no. The whale was a little too much for me. But I thought I'd take a chance on the number eight, it didn't seem quite so apocryphal."
"But why did you select such a ridiculous combination? It isn't likely that the eight will come out three times in four."