"She's all right. Hey, what are you doing tonight?". "Nothing, why?"

"How about you come on over for a drink?"

"Okay. What time?"

"Oh, about nine."

"Sure."

"Wacko! See you then in the saloon."

—

And they moved off, through the mob, collected their things and the girls from the beach, and made for the seven o'clock ferry.

Gil waved goodbye to the happy group as they boarded their bus at the Quay, and made his way the few blocks to the dingy old Y.

—

At about nine-fifteen he didn't want to appear too eager — in his new slim pants and a clean white shirt, Gil strolled into the saloon bar of the Mayfair Hotel at King's Cross. Groups of men were standing about discussing the day's events at Randwick, and it didn't take long to locate Mike at the end of the bar talking to the barmaid.

"Hi, Gil!" said Mike as Gil approached. "Come on over and meet Gorgeous Greta, the Sweetheart of the Six O'Clock Swill."

"Owyagoin," asked Greta, smiling, and without pausing, "Wotllitbe?" "I'm fine. Mine's a schooner."

"Make it two, love," added Mike, and grinned broadly at Gil as Greta drew the foaming beer.

"So how's every little thing?"

"Just fine," replied Gil, a little unsure of himself. "What have you been doing?"

"Drinking. What else?"

"'Ere you are, boys," called Greta, plunking down the glasses.

"Hey, look out," answered Mike, "you're spilling the grog. Anyway, why don't you join us, love?"

"Can't dearie, thanks all the same. Boss' rules. Besides, it's my turn to nip out the back for a quick drag that's if I can find me gaspers. Some thievin' cow's pinched 'em again. Can't trust a flamin' soul around here, honest to god!" And she steamed off, exuding an air of injured dignity.

Mike laughed, lifted his glass, and smiled at Gil." Well, here's looking at you!" Gil smiled back, "Cheers!" And he was looking too at Mike; looking at the laughing eyes, wide-set and luminous, blue-gray and lucid, emphasized by the long dark lashes, and shining like the sun of that blue beach day. His deeplytanned face was not an unusual sight this hot summer, but its contrast with his golden eyebrows and hair, his eyes, and his white challenging grin was certainly eye-catching.

Suddenly Gil realized that he'd been looking too long, too hungrily. Mike had said nothing, done nothing only leaned there against the bar, returning Gil's gaze. Had he sensed anything, Gil wondered, maybe sensed the way he felt? He broke away and gulped at his beer. Still Mike said nothing, but he took a drink too.

"Where are the others?" Gil asked at length, breaking the silence between

them.

"Gail and Margie went to visit some friends out at Crow's Nest, and the others went to Luna Park."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"That's only for kids."

"So what?"

21