way, and into a dark hall. Conward was rattling
keys and swearing amiably in his soft voice. Presently a door opened;
Conward pressed a button, and they found themselves in a small but
comfortably furnished room--evidently bachelor apartments.

The girls threw off their wraps and sauntered about the place,
commenting freely on the furnishings and decorations, while Conward
started a gas grate and put some water to boil.

"Sorry I've nothing for you to eat," he said, "but I've some good
medicine for the thirst."

"Eating's poor business when there's a thirst to be quenched," said one
of the girls, with a yawn. "And believe me, I've a long one."

Conward pulled a table into the centre of the room, set chairs about,
and produced glasses and a bottle. Dave experienced a sudden feeling
as of a poor swimmer beyond his depth. He had never drunk, not even
beer, not so much from principles of abstinence as from disgust over
his father's drunkenness and enmity towards the means of it. . . .

The glasses were filled and raised. "Ho!" said Conward.

"Here's looking!" said one of the girls. Dave still hesitated, but the
other girl clinked her glass against his. "Here's looking at you," she
said, and she appeared to lay special emphasis on the last two words.
Certainly her eyes were on Dave's as she raised her glass to her lips.
And under the spell of those eyes he raised his glass and drained it.

Other glasses were filled and drained. The three were chattering away,
but Dave was but vaguely conscious of their talk, and could weave no
connected meaning into it. His head was buzzing with a pleasant dreamy
sensation. A very grateful warmth surrounded him, and with it came a
disposition to go to sleep. He probably would have gone to sleep had
his eye not fallen on a picture on the wall, It was a picture of a girl
pointing her finger at him. He suspected that she was pointing it at
him, and as he looked more closely he became very sure of it. . . No
girl could point her finger at him. He arose and made a lunge across
the room. He missed her, and with difficulty retraced his steps to the
table to make a fresh start.

"She's makin' fun of me," he said, "an' I don't stand for that. Nobody
can do that with me. Nobody--see? I don't 'low it."

"Oh, you don't," laughed one of the girls, running into a corner and
pointing a finger at him. "You don't?"

He turned his attention to her, steadying himself very carefull