nterest and curiosity she
drank in every detail of his recital, her half-parted lips only closing
occasionally to say, "Wonderful!" or "How _perfectly_ wonderful!"

On and on went the music, round and round went the dancers, and still the
private in the uniform that was too big and the officer's girl in blue
and gray sat in the alcove, totally oblivious to everything but each
other.

It was not until the girl happened to look at the ridiculous little watch
that was pretending to keep time on her wrist that the spell was broken.

"Merciful heaven!" she exclaimed dramatically, "It's six o'clock. What
_will_ the family say to me? I must fly this minute."

"But ain't you going to finish this dance with me?" asked Quin with
tragic insistence.

"Ought you to dance again?" The note was personal and divinely
solicitous.

"I oughtn't, but I am"; and, with superb disregard for doctors and syntax
alike, Quin put a firm arm around that slender yielding figure and swept
her into the moving crowd.

They danced very quietly this time, for he was determined to hold out to
the end. In fact, from the dreamy, preoccupied look on their faces one
might have mistaken them for two zealous young acolytes lost in the
performance of a religious rite.

Quin was still in a trance when he helped her on with her coat and
piloted her down the crowded stairs. He could not bear to have her
jostled by the boisterous crowd, and he glared at the men whose admiring
glances dared to rest too long upon her.

Now that the dance was over, the young lady was in a fever of impatience
to get away. Qualms of remorse seized her for the way she had treated her
one-time escort, and she hinted at the trouble in store for her if the
family heard of her escapade.

Outside the pavements were white with snow, and falling flakes glistened
against the blue electric lights. Holiday crowds thronged the sidewalks,
and every other man was in uniform.

"I left my car at the corner," said Quin's companion, nervously
consulting her watch for the fourth time. "You needn't come with me; I
can find it all right."

But Quin hadn't the slightest intention of forgoing one second of that
delectable interview. He followed her to her car, awkwardly helped her
in, and stood looking at her wistfully. In her hurry to get home she
seemed to have forgotten him entirely. In two minutes she would never
know that she had met him, while he----

"Good-by, Soldier Boy," she said, sud