t was worth while to buy money at the cost of a rusk diet; then she
turned to the man next her. . . . Let's see--he was a warrior, snatching
a spell of rest from the scrap round the corner. And she didn't even
hear the man of great wealth choke as the half-chewed rusk went down
wallop."

The girl looked at Vane for a moment. "But you are really rather a
dear," she remarked thoughtfully.

"It's your turn now," said Vane shortly.

"The donor of the feast," she resumed at once, "was going a mucker. The
possession of extra Bradburys, coupled with a wife who combined a
champagne taste with his gin income, had inspired him to give a dance.
He hoped that it might help to keep the damn woman quiet for a bit; and,
besides everybody was giving dances. It was the thing to do, and
warriors fresh from the fierce battle were wont to step lightly on the
polished floor. As a matter of historical interest nine out of every ten
of the warriors who performed nightly at different houses were fresh from
the office stool at the House of War--a large edifice, completely filled
with girl scouts and brain-storms. . . ."

"Beautiful," chuckled Vane; "quite beautiful."

"You see the actual warriors didn't get much of a look in. By the time
they got to know anybody they had to go back round the corner again and
they got tired of propping up the walls and looking on. Besides what
made it even more dangerous for them was that kind-hearted women took
compassion on them, and their own empty programmes and introduced
themselves. And in the vernacular they were the snags. But all these
things were hidden from the man of great wealth. . . ."

"Contrary to a life-long habit," said Vane, "he remained after dinner and
haunted the door. Just every now and then a girl in grey gauzy stuff
floated past him--and once, only once, he found himself looking into
those big grey eyes when she passed quite close to him going out to get
some lemonade. And the rusk did a somersault. . . ."

"But he didn't haunt the door," gurgled Joan. "He got roped in. He fell
an easy victim to the snag parade--and women fainted and men wept when
the man of great possessions and the pointed woman took the floor. . . ."

"Pointed?" murmured Vane.

"All jolts and bumps," explained the girl. "Her knees were like steel
castings. I think that if the--if the girl in grey gauzy stuff had
realised that the man of wealth had stopped behind for her, she might,
out of pit