his sense of ill-usage at the hands of fate as he saw the
officers lingering with many unnecessary touches over the cloaking of
their fair partners, and as he caught the answering glances and smiles
that rewarded their attentions.

His eyes followed the manoeuvrings of the painted ladies as they hovered
about the doors, boldly busy with their profession. He understood as
never before the nature of their lure and the overpowering subtlety of
the temptation cast by them over the lonely soldier in London.

Close at his side he heard a voice:

"How do you like it, boy? Not bad, eh?"

"Awfully jolly, dad. It's perfectly fine of you."

He turned and saw a grey-haired gentleman, with upright soldierly
figure, and walking with him, arm in arm, a young officer, evidently his
son. He followed them slowly to the door, and eager to share if he might
the joy of their comradeship, he listened to their talk. Then as they
disappeared into the darkness, sick at heart, he passed out of the door,
stood a moment to get his bearings, and sauntered beyond the radius of
the subdued light about the entrance, into the darkness further on.

He had gone but a few paces, and was standing beneath a shaded corner
light, meditating the crossing of the roaring street, when he heard
behind him an eager voice crying,

"Captain Dunbar! Captain Dunbar!"

Swiftly he turned, and saw in the dim light a dainty figure, opera coat
flowing away from gleaming arms and shoulders, a face with its halo of
gold brown hair, with soft brown eyes ashine and eager parted lips, a
vision of fluttering, bewildering loveliness bearing down upon him with
outstretched hands.

"What," he gasped, "you! Oh, you darling!"

He reached for her, gathered her in his arms, drew her toward him, and
before either he or she was aware of what he intended to do, kissed her
parting lips.

"Oh, how dare you!" she cried, aghast, pushing him back from her, her
face in a red flame. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was afraid I should lose you."

Barry, appalled at his own temerity, his eyes taking in the sweet beauty
of her lovely face, stood silent, trembling.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me you are glad to see me?" she cried,
smiling up at him saucily.

"Phyllis," he murmured, moving toward her.

"Stop," she said, putting her hands out before her, as if to hold him
off. "Remember where you are. I ought to be very angry, indeed."

She drew him toward a dark wall.

"But you aren't a