and
lips stinging from cigarettes, he incredulously counted the number of
drinks he had taken, and groaned, "I got to quit!" He had ceased saying,
"I WILL quit!" for however resolute he might be at dawn, he could not,
for a single evening, check his drift.

He had met Tanis's friends; he had, with the ardent haste of the
Midnight People, who drink and dance and rattle and are ever afraid to
be silent, been adopted as a member of her group, which they called "The
Bunch." He first met them after a day when he had worked particularly
hard and when he hoped to be quiet with Tanis and slowly sip her
admiration.

From down the hall he could hear shrieks and the grind of a phonograph.
As Tanis opened the door he saw fantastic figures dancing in a haze of
cigarette smoke. The tables and chairs were against the wall.

"Oh, isn't this dandy!" she gabbled at him. "Carrie Nork had the
loveliest idea. She decided it was time for a party, and she 'phoned the
Bunch and told 'em to gather round. . . . George, this is Carrie."

"Carrie" was, in the less desirable aspects of both, at once matronly
and spinsterish. She was perhaps forty; her hair was an unconvincing
ash-blond; and if her chest was flat, her hips were ponderous. She
greeted Babbitt with a giggling "Welcome to our little midst! Tanis says
you're a real sport."

He was apparently expected to dance, to be boyish and gay with Carrie,
and he did his unforgiving best. He towed her about the room, bumping
into other couples, into the radiator, into chair-legs cunningly
ambushed. As he danced he surveyed the rest of the Bunch: A thin young
woman who looked capable, conceited, and sarcastic. Another woman whom
he could never quite remember. Three overdressed and slightly effeminate
young men--soda-fountain clerks, or at least born for that profession.
A man of his own age, immovable, self-satisfied, resentful of Babbitt's
presence.

When he had finished his dutiful dance Tanis took him aside and begged,
"Dear, wouldn't you like to do something for me? I'm all out of booze,
and the Bunch want to celebrate. Couldn't you just skip down to Healey
Hanson's and get some?"

"Sure," he said, trying not to sound sullen.

"I'll tell you: I'll get Minnie Sonntag to drive down with you." Tanis
was pointing to the thin, sarcastic young woman.

Miss Sonntag greeted him with an astringent "How d'you do, Mr. Babbitt.
Tanis tells me you're a very prominent man, and I'm honored by being