nd made their experience in braving the
dangers of traffic protect him. He reached the other curb in safety
and started up the long, broad street.

Hiram Hooker will never forget that night. Not once after leaving the
water front did he know his location, and it would have mattered little
if he had. He walked on and on untiringly through an entrancing dream.
He was alone in a great museum--the other human beings were not fellow
spectators, but specimens on exhibition.

The beauty of the women fascinated him. Never in his wildest
imaginings had he fancied such forms and faces. The most beautiful
girl in Bear Valley bore the face of a gargoyle compared with the soft,
creamy faces he saw that night. The flashing, long-lashed eyes, the
red lips, the coils on coils of fluffy hair, the swishing silk,
unfamiliar furs, sparkling jewels, and the slender French heels were
stupefying.

He was growing hungry. He had not eaten a bite since early morning,
and now it was eleven o'clock at night. It appalled him to think of
entering a restaurant and being confronted by one of those
white-skinned, slim-formed divinities he saw flitting from table to
table. He did not know what to order nor how to order it. Even the
smallest places looked imposing with their myriad lights and fixtures
of gilt and white and glittering glass. But he knew he must screw his
courage to it.

There seemed to be a restaurant nearly every other door in the locality
he was now passing through. Not only that, but many electric letters
blazing down the street notified him that he would have no trouble in
finding rooms; rooms by the day or week; rooms and board; rooms 15
cents and up; lodging; rooms with or without board; beds 10 cents and
up. He was on Kearny Street, he knew, but he did not know where Kearny
Street was in relation to the rest of the city.

He strolled along, staring through the windows at the appetizing
displays and searching for a restaurant where none of those
creamy-skinned beings that caused him so much uneasiness were employed.
At last he found one where, it seemed, only smooth-faced men in short
black coats and low-cut vests were serving. His abused stomach goaded
him to slink through the doorway and seek a table.

Just within the door he paused. The place seemed crowded. He was
about to slink out again when a woman's voice said in his ear: "This
side, please--all full here."

He turned quickly, with a gulp, to see a s