t a hard fall; you must have slipped."

"Yes, I must have slipped." Her smile this time was ironic.

The night fulfilled the promise of the evening. It was a succession of
triumphs for Dr. Harpe. The floor was air beneath her feet and the
combination of insidious punch and sensuous music turned her cold,
slow-running blood to fire. She was the undisputed belle of the evening,
and they took the trailing smilax from the side lamps on the wall and
made her a wreath in laughing acknowledgment of the fact. It was such an
hour as she had dreamed of and the reality fulfilled every expectation.

She had attracted Van Lennop to herself at last; she had aroused and
held his interest as she had known she could and she had sent Essie
Tisdale sprawling ridiculously at his feet. She had shown Crowheart how
she could look when she tried--what she could do and be with only half
an effort. In other words, she had proved to Van Lennop and to Crowheart
that she was a success as a woman as well as a doctor. What more could
any one person ask? The road to the end looked smooth before her. She
wanted to scream, to shriek aloud in exultation. Her cheeks burned, her
eyes blazed triumph. She had the feeling that it was the climax of her
career, that no more satisfying hour could come to her unless perhaps it
was the day she married Ogden Van Lennop. And she owed nothing, she
thought as she whirled dizzily in Mr. Terriberry's arms, to anyone but
herself. Every victory, every step forward since she arrived penniless
and unknown in Crowheart had been due to her brains and efforts. She
raised her chin arrogantly. She had never been thwarted and the person
was not born who could defeat her ultimately in any ambition! Her mental
elation gave her a feeling akin to omnipotence.

A clicking sound in Mr. Terriberry's throat due to an ineffectual effort
to moisten his lips brought the realization that her own throat and
mouth were parched.

"Let's stop and hit one up," she whispered feverishly. "I'm dry as a
fish."

Mr. Terriberry seemed to check himself in midair.

"I kin hardly swaller."

He led the way to the anteroom and she followed, swaying a little both
from the dizzy dance and the effects of previous visits to the punch
bowl. The hour was late and the remaining guests were rapidly casting
aside the strained dignity which their clothes and the occasion had
seemed to demand. Observing that Van Lennop had made his adieux, Dr.
Harpe also felt