aive, very charming, but I knew her in the
Never-Never Land, you know, and I can assure you she's not as
unsophisticated as she seems."

"Oh, come, Starr! You're tight!" a strange voice intervened. "Ladies'
names, you know----it's not done here."

"'Lady'?" Wiley hiccoughed derisively. "Who mentioned a lady? I'm
speakin' of Willa Murdaugh. Gentleman Geoff's Billie they used to call
her; pet of an old card-sharp, and mascot of a gambling-hell----"

He got no farther. Someone had seized him by the shoulders and spun
him around like a top and he found himself confronting Kearn Thode's
blazing eyes. His half-fuddled companions shrank back in consternation.

"Take that back, you miserable cur!" Thode's voice was scarcely
recognizable. "Take back your damnable lies or I'll ram them down your
throat!"

But an alcoholic courage possessed Wiley and he leered: "The
knight-errant, by Jove! You know whether it's true or not! You ought
to know better than anyone else----"

A crashing blow straight on his maudlin mouth sent him reeling back
against the table. His wildly groping hand found a tall glass and with
an oath he hurled it full in the face of the man advancing upon him. A
moment later, he was lifted clear of the table by an impact that flung
him against the wall a sodden, inert heap with the last ray of dazed
consciousness gone.

CHAPTER XV

GONE

A metamorphosis had taken place in Vernon Halstead. He was distrait
and mooned about the house, getting in people's way and apologizing
with an air of such profound abstraction that the family were moved to
comment.

"I think Vernon must be ill." This from his mother. "The poor dear
boy seems very pale and hollow-eyed. Haven't you noticed it, Ripley?"

"I've noticed that he looks as if someone had given him a jolt that he
hadn't yet recovered from," her husband retorted. "Maybe he's waking
up and getting on to himself at last. It's high time! It would give
anyone a shock to find they'd been wasting the best years of their
lives----"

"You were never sympathetic with his sensitive highly-strung
temperament----"

"'Temperament,' Irene? He's about as temperamental as an army tank!"
Ripley added more mildly: "I don't say there's no good in the boy, but
it needs waking up. He asked me last night about a course in petroleum
engineering, like young Thode, and that's a promising sign. I wish I
felt as easy in my mind about Willa."

"I wash my