"
Blix fixed him with a swift glance of genuine concern. "Don't
play to-night, Condy," she said, with a sudden gravity.
"Fat lot I can play! What money have I got to play with?"
"You might get some somewheres. But, anyhow, promise me you won't
play."
"Well, of course I'll promise. How can I, if I haven't any money?
And besides, I've got my whaleback stuff to write. I'll have
supper at the Club, and go up in the library and grind out copy
for a while."
"Condy," said Blix, "I think that diver's story is almost too good
for 'The Times.' Why don't you write it and send it East? Send it
to the Centennial Company, why don't you? They've paid some
attention to you now, and it would keep your name in their minds
if you sent the story to them, even if they didn't publish it.
Why don't you think of that?"
"Fine--great idea! I'll do that. Only I'll have to write it out
of business hours. It will be extra work."
"Never mind, you do it; and," she added, as he put her on the
cable car, "keep your mind on that thirty-thousand-word story of
adventure. Good-by, Condy; haven't we had the jolliest day that
ever was?"
"Couldn't have been better. Good-by, Blix."
Condy returned to his club., It was about six o'clock. In response
to his question, the hall-boy told him that Tracy Sargeant had
arrived a few moments previous, and had been asking for him.
The Saturday of the week before, Condy had made an engagement with
young Sargeant to have supper together that night, and perhaps go
to the theatre afterward.
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