she's low we'll go too." He rose promptly, and, with his outer garb,
accompanied Lee Randon. His step was uncertain, and Lee put a hand
under his elbow. "Liquored?" he asked casually.

"Not in my brain," Peyton Morris returned: "it seems like I could never
get drunk again; but my dam' feet are all over the place. Thanks for
hanging on to me: I have an idea you are going to drop me pretty
quickly."

"I don't want to question you," Randon said, "or in any way force a
confidence, but, Peyton, in addition to the relationship, I am
exceptionally fond of Claire; and, since helping you is practically the
same thing as helping her--"

"I wish to Christ I had been sunk in the North Sea," Morris broke in
bitterly.

They were up the stairs and standing on the emptied floor of an
intermission. Fanny, prepared to leave, was gazing about for him.
"You've been an age," she cried to Lee; "and, Peyton, Claire is at last
looking for you; although she'd kill me for saying it. You had better
go outside a minute, first, and clear your head."

He came very near to her, slightly swaying. "Fanny, you are a darling,
but you are hard; you are hard as the Commandments."

"That is not very kind, Peyton," she protested; "but I have some common
sense."

"Haven't you any uncommon sense?" he begged. "That's what I want. A