Pilots. He ordered port wine, which he thought seemed more 'igh-class
than beer, and then Peter Russet started talking to Miss Tucker and told
her that Ginger was a prize-fighter from Sydney, where he'd beat
everybody that stood up to 'im.

The gal seemed to change toward Ginger all in a flash, and 'er beautiful
black eyes looked at 'im so admiring that he felt quite faint. She
started talking to 'im about his fights at once, and when at last 'e
plucked up courage to ask 'er to go for a walk with 'im on Sunday
arternoon she seemed quite delighted.

"It'll be a nice change for me," she ses, smiling. "I used to walk out
with a prize-fighter once before, and since I gave 'im up I began to
think I was never going to 'ave a young man agin. You can't think 'ow
dull it's been."

"Must ha' been," ses Ginger.

"I s'pose you've got a taste for prize-fighters, miss," ses Peter Russet.

"No," ses Miss Tucker; "I don't think that it's that exactly, but, you
see, I couldn't 'ave anybody else. Not for their own sakes."

[Illustration: "Miss Tucker."]

"Why not?" ses Ginger, looking puzzled.

"Why not?" ses Miss Tucker. "Why, because o' Bill. He's such a 'orrid
jealous disposition. After I gave 'im up I walked out with a young
fellow named Smith; fine, big, strapping chap 'e was, too, and I never