m round the robust shoulders of her chum, opened the
screen door and was gone.

Howard immediately left the piano. He had only played to keep things
merry and bright. "Me for a drink," he said. "And I think I've earned
it."

Martin's teeth gleamed as he gave one of his silent laughs.

"How well you know me, old son," he said.

"Of course. But--why?"

"I like Tootles awfully. She's one in a million. But somehow it's--oh,
I dunno,--mighty difficult to talk to her."

"Poor little devil," said Howard involuntarily.

"But she's having a real good time--isn't she?"

"Is she?" He helped himself to a mild highball in reluctant deference
to his weight.

"I've never seen her look so well," said Martin.

Wondering whether to tell the truth about her state of mind, which his
quick sophisticated eyes had very quickly mastered, Howard drank, and
decided that he wouldn't. It would only make things uncomfortable for
Martin and be of no service to Tootles. If she loved him, poor little
soul, and he was not made of the stuff to take advantage of it, well,
there it was. He, himself, was different, but then he had no Joan as a
silent third. No, he would let things alone. Poor old Tootles.

"Great weather," he said, wrenching the conversation into a harmless
generality. "Are you sleeping on the yawl to-night?"

"Yes," replied Martin. "It's wonderful on the water. So still. I can
hear the stars whisper."

"Most of the stars I know get precious noisy at night," said Howard,
characteristically unable to let such a chance go by. Then he grew
suddenly grave and sat down. "Martin, I'm getting frightfully fed up
with messing about in town. I'm going to turn a mental and physical
somersault and get a bit of self-respect."

"Oh? How's that, old man."

"It's this damn war, I think. I've been reading a book in bed by a man
called Philip Gibbs. Martin, I'm going to Plattsburg this August to see
if they can make something of me."

Martin got up. "I'm with you," he said. "If ever we get into this
business I'm going to be among the first bunch to go. So we may as well
know something. Well, how about turning in now? There'll be a wind
to-morrow. Hear the trees?" He filled his pocket with cigarettes and
slung a white sweater over his shoulder.

"All right," said Howard. "I shall read down here a bit. I won't forget
to turn out and lock up." He had forgotten one night and Judson had
reported him.

"Good night, old son."

"Good night