"I am glad. I like pluck; I like endurance; I like to see the lone man
win against odds. Tell me, is he going back to America?"

"Ah, there's the weak part in the chain." The purser looked
diffidently at the deck floor. It would have been easy enough to
discuss the Warrington of yesterday, to offer an opinion as to his
past; but the Warrington of this morning was backed by twenty thousand
good English sovereigns; he was a different individual, a step beyond
the casual damnation of the mediocre. "He says he doesn't know what
his plans will be. Who knows? Perhaps some one ran away with his best
girl. I've known lots of them to wind up out here on that account."

"Is it a rule, then, that disappointed lovers fly hither, penniless?"

The mockery escaped the purser, who was a good fellow in his blundering
way. "Chaps gamble, you know. And this part of the world is full of
fleas and mosquitoes and gamblers. When a man's been chucked, he's
always asking what's trumps. He's not keen on the game; and the
professional gambler takes advantage of his condition. Oh, there are a
thousand ways out here of getting rid of your money when the girl's
given you the go-by!"

"To that I agree. When do we reach Prome?"

"About six," understanding that the Warrington incident was closed.
"It isn't worth while going ashore, though. Nothing to see at night."

"I have no inclination to leave the boat until we reach Rangoon."