o say. Evidently any advice he could have
given on the subject was now too late. All he could think of was to
mutter:

"Well--congratulations--old sport!"

Stafford, no longer crossed, broke into a smile once more. Leaning
tipsily over towards his friend, his face flushed, his eyes sparkling,
he hiccoughed:

"Say, Hadley, she's a winner! Those big black eyes of hers are enough
to drive any man crazy; and that figure! Can you blame me, Hadley? Can
you blame me? Here, drink up!"

"No," said his companion, disgusted and pushing his glass away. "I've
had enough and so have you. It's getting late. Let's go."

Stafford made no reply, but, calling the waiter, proceeded to settle
for the dinner. While he was thus engaged, Hadley watched him in
irritated silence.

"_In vino veritas_!" he mused to himself. Truly the wine had
spoken plainly. The cloven hoof was clearly visible. It was not so
much the congenial companion, the soul-mate which Robert Stafford saw
in Virginia Blaine as it was a lovely young animal for the
gratification of his lust, his appetites. What marriage, based on that
idea, could be a happy one? He felt sorry for the girl. If he knew her
well or cared enough, he would warn her that his friend was not the
marrying kind of man. Of course, Stafford would do the honorable
thing, go through a marriage ceremony, make a handsome settlement and
all that sort of thing; but when it came to leading a quiet, regular,
domesticated life, he simply was incapable of it--that's all. He had
enjoyed liberty too long to wear the harness now. He was too much of
the _viveur_, too fond of his club, his poker parties and little
midnight suppers with fair ladies. Once the novelty of marriage had
worn off, he would return to the old life and then there would be the
devil to pay. The wife would find it out, there would be a row, with
court proceedings, alimony and all the rest of it. Or perhaps she
would suffer and say nothing, as so many do. Anyway, he was sorry for
the girl.

Stafford looked at him and laughed boisterously.

"What's the matter, old top? You're as serious to-day as some
bewhiskered old college professor. Stop your philosophizing and let's
have some more wine. I'll match you for another bottle. Come, now."

Hadley shook his head and rose.

"No more for me," he said firmly. "You don't want any, either. Let's
go."

"Which direction are you going?"

"Up Fifth Avenue. Coming my way?"

"Yesh--I'm with you--