l necessaries of social life
about the beauty of the girls, the heat of the rooms, and the elegance
of the flowers, she permitted Andy to drift easily towards the door
that opened on the dim-lit coolness of the conservatory.

As they turned away, Rose Wood sent one sharp glance of her gray eyes
glinting into Morris's; then hers fell, and even he could find only
bare common-place in her words:

"So many little dangers, you know, Mr. Morris--at a ball. One cannot
be _too_ prudent."

He did not answer; but the look that followed her graceful figure had
very little of flattery in it.

"Curse that _Chambertin_!" he muttered in his moustache. "I warned him
against the second pint at dinner. Andy _couldn't_ be fool enough,
though," he added, with a shrug, and moved slowly towards the
dancing-room.

The critical group, still around the big punch-bowl, looked after him
curiously.

"_He's_ not soft on the old girl, is he?" queried Mr. de Silva
Street.

"Never!" chuckled Mr. Wetherly Gage. "Morris is too well up in Bible
lore to marry his grandmother!"

"And he don't have to," put in Mr. Trotter Upton, with a sage wink.
"I'd back Van against the field to win the Allmand purse, hands down,
if he'd only enter. But he _won't_; so you're safe, Silvey, if you've
got the go in you. But Lord! Van's too smart to carry weight for age!
Why, you may land me over the tail-board, if the woman that hitches
_him_ double won't have to throw him down and sit on him, Rarey
fashion!"

And the speaker, remarking _sotto voce_, that here was luck to the
winner, drained his glass with a smack, set it down, and lounged
into the smoking-room. There he lazily lit one of Mr. Allmand's
full-flavored Havanas, and thoughtfully stored his breast pocket
with several more.

III.

Meanwhile, the horsey pundit's offered odds seemed not so wisely
laid.

In the great room a crowded waltz was in progress; and Morris saw
Blanche Allmand standing on the opposite edge of the whirling circle.
Her head and her dainty slipper were keeping time to the softly
accented music; while a comical expression--half anger, half
mischief--emphasized the nothing she was saying to her companion.

Van caught her eye and, adept that he was in the social signal-service,
took in the situation at a glance. He slightly raised his eyebrows and
barely moved his lips; she assented with the smallest of nods and a
happy flush; and, a moment later, he had edged around the masse