"With his cropped head and his smooth, pasty face, and those unpleasant black eyes of his, he looks like an ex-convict. It doesn't astonish me that he has a son serving in the disciplinary battalions of Africa."
"Does it astonish you that he is the employer of that girl behind the counter?" asked Halkett.
Warner turned to look at her again:
"It's interesting, isn't it? She seems to be another breed."
"Yes. Now, what do you make of her?"
Warner hesitated, then looked up with a laugh.
"Halkett," he said, "I'm going over to ask her to dance."
"All right; I'll hold the table," said the Englishman, amused. And Warner rose, skirted the dancers, and walked around to the cashier's desk, aware all the while that the girl's indifferent grey eyes were following his movements.
CHAPTER III
Warner tucked his walking stick and straw hat under one arm and, sauntering over to the cashier's desk, made a very nice and thoroughly Continental bow to the girl behind it.