despair went from his face. He became alive, and she saw why her father had called him one of the finest table talkers he had ever met. As the wine got hold of him he grew more brilliant. He got on to reminiscences of the gold field rushes in Australia, to the tragedies and comedies of fever-stricken men and women. She listened astonished and fascinated, but chilled to think that he had to be a little drunk to be like that. But he had forgotten Duffield. At least she was glad of that.
Mac grew a little more lively too. He broke in with grunts and comments, and he forgot Valerie occasionally and let slip words with unpleasant connotations. Then she was surprised to see that Dane had not lost his awareness of her, for he silenced Mac with a commanding Sh! Interested though she was, she thought she had better leave them to it. She stood up and thanked Mac with a little bow. He grinned broadly at her.
Dane looked up at her with a subconscious appeal in his eyes, now softened and a little slumbrous. “Oh, don’t go, don’t go,” he pleaded.
She did not want to. She had drunk just enough to make her reckless. But something told her she could not stay there and drink with them.
“I must go. I have to work,” she said, and went off wondering if she were walking steadily. Unaccustomed to champagne she felt so fuddled when she got to her room that she lay down on her bed and fell asleep and did not wake till after midnight.
II
The next evening as she walked with Bob to the office after dinner he told her that Dane Barrington had been drunk the night before and was still in bed in the Hotel.
