ARABIAN NIGHTS FOR TURGIS gyi

little cardboard containers. They were very friendly
over the cocktails and the food, and Lena, dressed in
bright green, a colour that seemed to throw her red-gold
hair and light brown eyes, her scarlet mouth and white
neck, into brilliant relief, was lovelier than ever. It was
wonderful.

"Do you know Mrs. Dersingham?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "She came to the office once, and
I just saw her, that's all/7

"She's not as pretty as I am, is she? Or do you think
she is?"

"Pretty as you!" Turgis gave a gasp, and meant it.
"Why, there's no comparison. She's just ordinary—and
you're lovely. Yes, you are, really."

"You don't mean it. You're just teasing me."

"I'm not/' he said solemnly. Teasing her indeed! A
fat chance he would ever have of teasing her. "I've never
known any girl as pretty as you—never seen one—in all
my life before—and I never shall, never, never."

She rewarded him with a smile. Then she frowned.
"I don't like Mrs. Dersingham. I met her once. I loathe
her. She's a snob and a rotten cat.'1

"Is she?" Turgis didn't care what Mrs. Dersingham
was.

"Yes, she is. I hate her. My father doesn't like her
either. He doesn't like Mr. Dersingham much either.
He thinks he's a fool."

"I don't think he's a bad chap though," said Turgis
thoughtfully. "I've never really had much to do with
him. But I don't believe he's much good at business. I
know the business was in a rotten state just before your
father came. Good job for us he did come. I don't pre-
tend to know much about it, but I do know that, Mr.