ily.

* * * * *

He sauntered out and on into the body of the club, exchanging with
friends a few words here, a smiling handclasp there; and presently he
seated himself near a window.

For a while he rested his chin on his clenched hand, staring into
space, until a waiter arrived with his order.

He signed the check, drained his glass, and leaned forward again with
both elbows on his knees, twirling his silver-headed stick between
nervous hands.

"After all," he said under his breath, "it's too late, now.... I'm
going to see this thing through."

* * * * *

As he rose to go he caught sight of Jim Shotwell, seated alone by
another window and attempting to read an evening paper by the foggy
light from outside. He walked over to him, fastening his overcoat on
the way. Jim laid aside his paper and gave him a dull glance.

"How are things with you?" inquired Estridge, carelessly.

"All right. Are you walking up town?"

"No."

Jim's sombre eyes rested on the discarded paper, but he did not pick
it up. "It's rotten weather," he said listlessly.

"Have you seen Palla lately?" inquired Estridge, looking down at him
with a certain curiosity.

"No, not lately."

"She's a very busy girl, I hear."

"So I hear."

Estridge seated himself on the arm of a leather chair and began to
pull on his gloves. He said:

"I understand Palla is doing Red Cross and canteen work, besides
organising her celebrated club;--what is it she calls it?--Combat Club
No. 1?"

"I believe so."

"And you haven't seen her lately?"

Shotwell glanced at the fog and shrugged his shoulders: "She's rather
busy--as you say. No, I haven't seen her. Besides, I'm rather out of
my element among the people one runs into at her house. So I simply
don't go any more."

"Palla's parties are always amusing," ventured Estridge.

"Very," said the other, "but her guests keep you guessing."

Estridge smiled: "Because they don't conform to the established scheme
of things?"

"Perhaps. The scheme of things, as it is, suits me."

"But it's interesting to hear other people's views."

"I'm fed up on queer views--and on queer people," said Jim, with
sudden and irritable emphasis. "Why, hang it all, Jack, when a fellow
goes out among apparently well bred, decent people he takes it for
granted that ordinary, matter of course social conventions prevail.
But nobody can gues