He was sitting in the lounge of his hotel one evening, feeling more than usually homesick, when he noticed a beautiful woman sitting near him. Her evening dress was cut well away at the shoulders, displaying a white neck around which a pearl necklace glowed in the light. A mass of auburn hair was coiled up neatly round her head, with a rebellious little curl streaming down one ear. The curl fascinated Jim. He thought it ought to be put back in its proper place, but a second's reflection revealed to him the fact that it was intended to trickle thus alluringly. It was there for effect. It enhanced her considerable charm. In the midst of his interested survey she turned and caught his eye. He began to study his boots with an embarrassed blush. When he ultimately stole another glance at this wealth of feminine beauty he found she was busily engaged in similar scrutiny--of himself. They both smiled. Then she stood up, languidly, and came across to him. "Pardon me, but you are from the West, aren't you?" "Right first time." "Ah, I thought so. You Westerners can't disguise yourselves. I love the West. I was born in Wyoming." Here at last was a sympathetic soul. Jim edged along a little. She sat down. "You don't like New York?" she queried. "I don't," he replied emphatically. "It leaves me gasping for breath." She nodded. "I felt like that when first I came down. I wish I were you to be going back again." Jim laughed. "But I'm not going back." She opened her brilliant eyes and then laughed. "I know. You've made a pile and are now seeing life. Is that it?" "Something like that." "I knew it." Jim was getting his nerve back. It was the first time he had been in close proximity to a powdered back and rouged lips, and the sensation was curious. No man with blood in his veins could help admiring the soft lines of her neck and arms--and Jim had plenty of blood about him. "Where'd you say you hailed from?" he queried. "Rock Springs, Wyoming. D'you know it?" "Know it? I should say! Wal, if that ain't the pink limit!" "We ran a ranch there," she went on in a rich musical voice. "I wish I was there now, but there's a spell about cities. You'll find that out soon enough." "I ain't seen much spell about this one," retorted Jim. "Gee! I've never seen such a bunch of blank-mangy-looking men. The wimmen ain't so bad." She laughed. "Thank you!" "And cyards! Suffering Moses! I seen a guy deal a straight flush to himself and no one savvied he'd got the pack sandpapered. Out in Medicine Bow he'd hev' bin filled up with lead to his shoulder-blades. I guess this is a darn bad place." "You're lovely!" she said merrily. "But when in Rome, do as Rome does. Do you go to dinner in that rig-out?" Jim felt nervously at his throat. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing. It suits you admirably. But the hotel won't like it."