460 ANGEL PAVEMENT

doctor. Perhaps you're just not feeling well/*

Tm not feeling so well, Mr. Smeeth, but it isn't that,
really. It's just—oh, I dunno—well, you see, Mr. Smeeth,
it's a girl. That's what's been bothering me just lately/*

"Oh, that's it, is it? Ought you to be marrying her or
something of that sort? No? Nothing like that, eh? Oh,
well, had a bit of a quarrel, eh?"

"Yes, in a way," replied Turgis, guardedly, looking
very uncomfortable.

"Oh, well, don't you let that bother you," cried Mr,
Smeeth, astonished to discover that this was nothing but
a lover's tiff. "I know what it is, of course. You're talk-
ing to an old married man now, my boy. I've got a sou
nearly as old as you. It doesn't matter how you've
quarrelled, you don't want to take it as hard as that.
Bless me!—you'll be making yourself ill over it."

"That's what I think sometimes," said Turgis bitterly,

"Ridiculous! It'll soon blow over. And if it doesn't,
why, go and find another girl who isn't so quarrelsome.
I can tell you this, if she's quarrelsome now, she'll be
past living with, if you're not careful, later -on. You're
too sensitive about it, Turgis—that's your trouble/'

Turgis produced a smile that was abject misery itself,
the tortured ghost of a grin.

"No, no, not at all," the large man shouted. "We've
ten minutes yet. Plenty of time for another. What is it?
Same again? Three double Scotches/miss. I 'aven't told
you yet what 'appened the other night, 'ave I? I mean,
with Jack Pearce and old Joe, down at Staines—oh dear!
—splooch-ooch-ooch-ooch-ooch!"

"He seems to be enjoying himself all right," said
Turgis. "I don't know how some of these chaps do it-
spending money all day, no work, knocking about all