out I don't know _what_ she
will do!"

"Call out the fire department, probably," said Eleanor flippantly.

"But listen! She will speak to them--you know she will. Don't you think
you can stop them?"

"Of course I can't!" declared Eleanor, her anger rekindling. "And we
can't dance with the windows down, either. Oh, dear, I wish we'd never
_tried_ to give a party!"

"May I have the next dance, Miss Eleanor?" Quin ventured at this
inopportune moment.

She turned upon him a perturbed face, "It's taken," she said absently.
"They are all taken until after supper. I'll give you one then." And with
this casual promise she hurried away.

Quin wandered disconsolately into the hall again. Everybody seemed to
know everybody else. Apparently he was the one outsider. At the soldier
dances to which he was accustomed, he was used to boldly asking any girl
on the floor to dance, sure of a welcoming smile. But here it was
different. It seemed that a fellow must wait for an introduction which
nobody took the trouble to give. He leaned against the door-jamb and
indulged in bitter reflections. Much that bunch cared whether he had
risked his life for his country or not! The girls had already forgotten
which were the heroes and which were the slackers. He didn't care! All he
had come for, anyhow, was to see Eleanor Bartlett. Just wait until he got
her all to himself in that dance after supper----

Finding the strain of being a spectator instead of a participant no
longer endurable, he wandered upstairs and bathed his face. The pain was
getting worse and he had a horrible suspicion that the swelling was
increasing. In the men's dressing-room he found a game of craps in
progress, and, upon being asked to join, was so grateful for being
included in any group that he accepted gladly, and for half an hour
forgot his woes while he won enough to repay Cass the sum he had advanced
on the dress-shirt.

"Stud's undone, old chap," said his opponent as he paid his debt.

"Thanks, so it is," said Quin nonchalantly.

As he went downstairs he encountered Miss Enid and Mr. Chester sitting
under the palms on the landing in intimate tete-a-tete.

"Will you dance this with me, Miss Enid?" asked Quin, leading a forlorn
hope.

"I am afraid I don't know those new dances," said Miss Enid evasively,
"the only thing I can do is to waltz."

"You mean a one-step?"

"She means a waltz," Mr. Chester repeated impressively, "the most
beautiful and dignif