put my arm around you, you're entirely mistaken and not the
girl I thought you." This last thrust, which, in less skilful hands
might have become mere petulance, was delivered with a rolling
deliberation that would have wrung a Jezebel. Tom always did well in
these conversations, but unfortunately, the present situation was not
solved so easily. Nancy, he had found, was even more attractive than she
had been when he was in college. They would, of course, see something of
each other from time to time, and it would be tiresome not to be
friendly. Besides, he guessed that she would be helpful in discussing
his various problems. Mrs. Norris was splendid, of course, and he loved
her dearly, but he found himself occasionally wishing for a somewhat
younger listener and one not given over to quite so many nonsequiturs.
Nancy seemed excellent material, but if she were going to be
superior--Possibly it was because of Ephesus and the Reynolds Dry Goods
Store. He turned away with a slightly bilious feeling. If it should
prove that she was affected by that, then indeed would he be
disappointed in her.

He crossed the hall into the drawing-room, where a dozen or so couples
were dancing in various stages of aesthetic intoxication. The saxophone
and the violin were engaging in a pantomime calculated to add gaiety to
the waning enthusiasm of the party, and he gazed at them in disgust. A
young lady with hair newly hennaed and face suggestive of an over-ripe
pear ogled him over her partner's elbow as they jazzed by. Let her dance
on until she got so sick of him she was ready to scream, was Tom's
thought.

In one corner, obviously having a poor time, was Leofwin Balch. Tom sat
down beside him.

"It's too hot in here, don't you think?" he asked.

"Much," replied Leofwin. "I think these parties get worse every year."
These were soothing words. "Particularly those damned charades," he went
on. "Now, my dear fellow, you know perfectly well that yours was a
miserable failure."

Tom found this a little trying. It was true that no one could be more
deprecating of his effort than he, but, privately, he had a somewhat
better opinion of it. As charades went, he thought it decidedly above
the average; and the way he had examined the room, after the manner of
Mr. William Gillette, and come upon the match box was proved amusing by
the laugh it had brought.

"Granted," he replied, with a shade of sarcasm, "it was a miserable
failure."

"Why,