Harrigan reached over and picked up the card. "Suffering shamrocks! if

Molly could only see me now," he murmured. "I wonder if I made any breaks?

The grand duke, and me hobnobbing with him like a waiter! James, this is

all under your hat. We'll keep the card where Molly won't find it."

Young men began to drift in and out. The air became heavy with smoke, the

prevailing aroma being that of Turkish tobacco of which Harrigan was not

at all fond. But his cigar was so good that he was determined not to stir

until the coal began to tickle the end of his nose. Since Molly knew where

he was there was no occasion to worry.

Abbott came in, pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket, and impatiently

struck a match. His hands shook a little, and the flare of the match

revealed a pale and angry countenance.

"Hey, Abbott, here's a seat. Get your second wind."

"Thanks." Abbott dropped into the chair and smoked quickly. "Very stuffy

out there. Too many."

"You look it. Having a good time?"

"Oh, fine!" There was a catch in the laugh which followed, but Harrigan's

ear was not trained for these subtleties of sound, "How are you making

out?"

"I'm getting acclimated. Where's the colonel to-night? He ought to be

around here somewhere."

"I left him a few moments ago."

"When you see him again, send him in. He's a live one, and I like to hear

him talk."

"I'll go at once," crushing his cigarette in the Jeypore bowl.

"What's your hurry? You look like a man who has just lost his job."

"Been steering a German countess. She was wound up to turn only one way,

and I am groggy. I'll send the colonel over. By-by."

"Now, what's stung the boy?"

Nora was enjoying herself famously. The men hummed around her like bees

around the sweetest rose. From time to time she saw Courtlandt hovering

about the outskirts. She was glad he had come: the lepidopterist is latent

or active in most women; to impale the butterfly, the moth falls easily

into the daily routine. She was laughing and jesting with the men. Her

mother stood by, admiringly. This time Courtlandt gently pushed his way to

Nora's side.

"May I have a dance?" he asked.

"You are too late," evenly. She was becoming used to the sight of him,

much to her amazement.




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