“Certainly,” said Portlaw.

The other shook his head.  “I’ll get it all back at Miami, of course.  In the mean time—­if you don’t mind letting me have enough to square things—­”

Portlaw hesitated, balancing his bulk uneasily first on one foot, then the other.

“I don’t mind; no; only—­”

“Only what?” asked Malcourt.  “I told you I couldn’t afford to play cards on this trip, but you insisted.”

“Certainly, certainly!  I expected to consider you as—­as—­”

“I’m your general manager and I’m ready at all times to earn my salary.  If you think it best to take me away from the estate for a junketing trip and make me play cards you can do it of course; but if you think I’m here to throw my money overboard I’m going back to-morrow!”

“Nonsense,” said Portlaw; “you’re not going back.  There’s nothing doing in winter up there that requires your personal attention—­”

“It’s a bad winter for the deer—­I ought to be there now—­”

“Well, can’t Blake and O’Connor attend to that?”

“Yes, I suppose they can.  But I’m not going to waste the winter and my salary in the semi-tropics just because you want me to—­”

“O Lord!” said Portlaw, “what are you kicking about?  Have I ever—­”

“You force me to be plain-spoken; you never seem to understand that if you insist on my playing the wealthy do-nothing that you’ve got to keep me going.  And I tell you frankly, Billy, I’m tired of it.”

“Oh, don’t flatten your ears and show your teeth,” protested Portlaw amiably.  “I only supposed you had enough—­with such a salary—­to give yourself a little rope on a trip like this, considering you’ve nobody but yourself to look out for, and that I do that and pay you heavily for the privilege”—­his voice had become a mumble—­“and all you do is to take vacations in New York or sit on a horse and watch an army of men plant trout and pheasants, and cut out ripe timber—­O hell!”

“What did you say?”

Portlaw became good-humouredly matter of fact:  “I said ‘hell,’ Louis—­which meant, ‘what’s the use of squabbling.’  It also means that you are going to have what you require as a matter of course; so come on down to my state-room and let us figure it up before Jim Wayward begins to turn restless and limp toward the card-room.”

As they turned and strolled forward, Malcourt nudged him: 

“Look at the fireworks over Lake Worth,” he said; “probably Palm Beach’s welcome to her new and beardless prophet.”

“It’s one of their cheap Venetian fetes,” muttered Portlaw.  “I know ’em; they’re rather amusing.  If we weren’t sailing in an hour we’d go.  No doubt Hamil’s in it already; probably Cardross put him next to a bunch of dreams and he’s right in it at this very moment.”

“With the girl in the red handkerchief,” added Malcourt.  “I wish we had time.”

“I believe I’ve seen that girl somewhere,” mused Portlaw.