The girl gazed at him steadily.
"Oh, is that all?" she asked.
"Oh, no; the pool which I won was stolen, too," Preston hurried over the trifles lightly, "and mine and Mr. Dunneston's watch and a few other odd pounds from me, as well as about forty pounds from him, too. But, Miss Varris, think of—I mean, fancy one losing his shirt and sleeve buttons, can you?"
"Why?" the girl inquired, puzzled. "What were the buttons made of? What were they worth? Why—why, I heard that there was almost a thousand dollars in your pool!"
"Gold, plain gold. They were worth maybe a pound. And there were four thousand shillings, or just about a thousand dollars in the pool. But please don't be so shockingly American and mercenary," he went on with superior surprise. "Be British, and look at losses from their inconvenience, not their value, and consider the sleeve buttons! What is the loss of a mere twelve hundred dollars in vulgar value to the shocking state of finding one's self with-
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