stench of stale garments and the reek of
alcohol. Men dripping with sweat whirled round in wild gyrations. Some
of them danced beautifully; some merely shuffled over the floor. It did
not make any difference to the girls. They were superbly muscular and
used to the dragging efforts of novices. After a visit to the bar back
they came once more, licking their lips, and fell to with fresh energy.

There was no need to beg the crowd now. A wave of excitement seemed to
have swept over them. They clamoured to get a dance. The "live one"
whooped and pranced on his wild career, while Amber steered him calmly
through the mazes of the waltz. Touch-the-button-Nell was talking to a
tall fair-moustached man whom I recognised as a black-jack booster.
Suddenly she left him and came over to us. She went up to the Youth.

She had discarded her blond wig, and her pretty brown hair parted in the
middle and rippled behind her ears. Her large violet-blue eyes had a
devouring look that would stir the pulse of a saint. She accosted the
Youth with a smile of particular witchery.

"Say, kid, won't you come and have a two-step with me? I've been looking
at you for the last half-hour and wishing you'd ask me."

The Youth had advised me: "If any of them asks you, tell them to go to
the devil;" but now he looked at her and his boyish face flushed.

"Nothing doing," he said stoutly.

"Oh, come now," she pleaded; "honest to goodness, kid, I've turned down
the other fellow for you. You won't refuse me, will you? Come on; just
one, sweetheart."

She was holding the lapels of his coat and dragging him gently forward.
I could see him biting his lip in embarrassment.

"No, thanks, I'm sorry," he stammered. "I don't know how to dance.
Besides, I've got no money."

She grew more coaxing.

"Never mind about the coin, honey. Come on, have one on me. Don't turn
me down, I've taken such a notion to you. Come on now; just one turn."

I watched his face. His eyes clouded with emotion, and I knew the
psychology of it. He was thinking:

"Just one--surely it wouldn't hurt. Surely I'm man enough to trust
myself, to know when to quit. Oh, lordy, wouldn't it be sweet just to
get my arm round a woman's waist once more! The sight of them's honey to
me; surely it wouldn't matter. One round and I'll shake her and go
home."

The hesitation was fatal. By an irresistible magnetism the Youth was
drawn to this woman whose business it ever was to lure and beguile