lair, with flashing
eyes. "Never to speak again of _that_--so long as we live!"

"Never to a living soul," rejoined Lane, with a ring in his voice.

They shook hands much the same as when they had met half an hour
earlier.

"So!" exclaimed Blair, with a deep breath. "And now, Dare, tell me how
you made out with Helen. You cut me short over the 'phone."

"Blair, that day coming into New York on the ship, you didn't put it
half strong enough," replied Lane. Then he told Blair about the call
he had made upon Helen, and what had transpired at her studio.

Blair did not voice the scorn that his eyes expressed. And, in fact,
most of his talking was confined to asking questions. Lane found it
easy enough to unburden himself, though he did not mention his calls
on Mel Iden, or Colonel Pepper's disclosures.

"Well, I guess it's high time we were meandering up to the hall," said
Blair, consulting his watch. "I'm curious about this Prom. Think we're
in for a jolt. It's four years since I went to a Prom. Now, both of
us, Dare, have a sister who'll be there, besides all our old
friends.... And we're not dancing! But I want to look on. They've got
an out-of-town orchestra coming--a jazz orchestra. There'll probably
be a hot time in the old town to-night."

"Lorna did not tell me," replied Lane, as they got up to go. "But I
suppose she'd rather I didn't know. We've clashed a good deal lately."

"Dare, I hear lots of talk," said Blair. "Margaret is chummy with me,
and some of her friends are always out at the house. I hear Dick Swann
is rushing Lorna. Think he's doing it on the q-t."

"I know he is, Blair, but I can't catch them together," returned Lane.
"Lorna is working now. Swann got her the job."

"Looks bad to me," replied Blair, soberly. "Swann is cutting a swath.
I hear his old man is sore on him.... I'd take Lorna out of that
office quick."

"Maybe you would," declared Lane, grimly. "For all the influence or
power I have over Lorna I might as well not exist."

They walked silently along the street for a little while. Lane had to
accommodate his step to the slower movement of his crippled friend.
Blair's crutch tapped over the stone pavement and clicked over the
curbs. They crossed the railroad tracks and turned off the main street
to go down a couple of blocks.

"Shades of the past!" exclaimed Blair, as they reached a big brick
building, well-lighted in front by a sizzling electric lamp. The night
was rather war