glass. He wondered why Paredes had grown so quiet.

"I mustn't miss that twelve-fifteen," he said, "You know, Carlos, you
weren't quite fair to Hartley. He's a splendid fellow. Roomed with me at
college, played on same team, and all that. Only wanted me to do the
right thing. Must say it was the right thing. I won't miss that
twelve-fifteen."

"Graham," Paredes sneered, "is a wonderful type--Apollo in the flesh and
Billy Sunday in the conscience."

Then, as Bobby started to protest, Maria entered, more dazzling than at
dinner; and the dancers swayed less boisterously, the chatter at the
tables subsided, the orchestra seemed to hesitate as a sort of obeisance.

A man Bobby had never seen before followed her to the table. His
middle-aged figure was loudly clothed. His face was coarse and clean
shaven. He acknowledged the introductions sullenly.

"I've only a minute," Bobby said to Maria.

He continued, however, to raise his glass indifferently to his lips. All
at once his glass shook. Maria's dark and sparkling face became blurred.
He could no longer define the features of the stranger. He had never
before experienced anything of the kind. He tried to account for it, but
his mind became confused.

"Maria!" he burst out. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her contralto laugh rippled.