THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
Further cogitation was denied him. The girl herself appeared on the threshold.
"Ready!"
"All right," he replied, catching his breath. There was something approaching happiness in her face to-night. He scooped up the bits of cardboard and nonchalantly dropped them into his side pocket. If she noticed the act she gave no sign.
After the concert was over they stopped at a trattoria for something cooling to drink. Over huge lemonades, which no amount of Belgian sugar seemed able to sweeten, they discussed the music.
"Some band," he agreed.
"Nearly all military bands are good. And now, Brother William, what's the matter?"
"Matter?"
"Yes. You've been absent-minded all the evening. You are worrying about something."
"Maybe I did a fool thing yesterday," he said, evasively. "I got tired of running into Cook's every morning for cigar money, so I got fifteen hundred lire. And now I don't know what to do with it. Camden told me that the town is alive with sneak-thieves, and that it isn't safe to wander about at night by your lonesome."
"That was foolish. Do you want me to carry the money for you? … Heavens! don't take it out here," she cried. "Wait until we get into the carriage."
"Maybe that wasn't all that was worrying me." William was not an adept at dissimulation. He
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