t before she broke
into one of his sentences.

"Why, but--I forgot. You made me forget entirely, Mr. Fairfax. I'm going
to the theater with my cousin, Billy Strong. He ought to be here--where
is he?"

Rex shivered lest her roving eyes might answer the question, for Billy's
truck with Billy slumbering peacefully on it, lay in full view not fifty
feet away. But her gaze passed unsuspiciously over the prostrate,
huddled form.

"It's very queer--I'm sure this was the right boat." She looked up at
his face anxiously, and he almost moaned aloud. What was he going to say
to her?

"That's what I'm here for, Miss Margery--to explain about Billy. He--he
isn't feeling at all himself to-night, and it's utterly impossible for
him to go with you." To his astonishment her face broke into a very
satisfied smile. "Oh--well, I'm sorry Billy's ill, but we'll hope for
the best, and I won't really object to you as a substitute, you know. Of
course it's improper, and mother wouldn't think of letting me go with
you--but I'm going. Mother won't mind when I tell her it's done. I've
never been alone with a man to anything, except with my cousin--it's
like stealing watermelons, isn't it? Don't you think it's rather fun?"

Staggered by the situation, Fairfax thought desperately and murmured
something which sounded like "Oochee-Goochee," as he tried to recall it
later. The girl's gay voice went on: "It would be wicked to waste the
tickets. City people aren't going to the theater as late as this, so we
won't see any one we know. I think it's a dispensation of Providence,
and I'd be a poor-spirited mouse to waste the chance. I think I'll go
with you--don't you?"

[Illustration: "Could he--couldn't he?"]

Could he leave that prostrate form on the truck and snatch at this bit
of heaven dangling before him? Could he--Couldn't he? No, he could
not. It would be a question of fifteen minutes perhaps before the drowsy
Billy would be marching to the police station, and in his entirely
casual and fearless state of mind, the big athlete would make history
for some policeman, his friend could not doubt, before he got there. Rex
had put his hand to this intoxicated plow and he must not look back,
even when the prospect backwards was so bewilderingly attractive, so
tantalizingly easy. He stammered badly when, at length, the silence
which followed the soft voice had to be filled.

"I'm simply--simply--broken up, Miss Margery," and the girl's eyes
looked