“Well, no--unless a round-up pulls in, or there's a dance, or it's Christmas, or something. It's liable to keep up till two or three o'clock, so the sooner you git used to it, the better off you'll be. I'm going to leave you here, and go to bed--unless you want to go upstairs yourself. Only it'll be noisier than ever up in your room, for it's right over the office, and the way sound travels up is something fierce. Don't you be afraid--I'll lock this door, and if your husband wants to come in he can come through the dining room.” She looked at Valeria and hesitated before she spoke the next sentence. “And don't you worry a bit over him, neither. My old man was in the kitchen a minute ago, when I was out there, and he says Man ain't drinking a drop to-night. He's keeping as straight as--” Valeria sat up suddenly, quite scandalized. “Oh--why, of course Manley wouldn't drink with them! Why--who ever heard of such a thing? The idea!” She stared reproachfully at her hostess. “Oh, sure! I didn't say such a thing was liable to happen. I just thought you might be--worrying--they're making so much racket in there,” stammered Arline. “Indeed, no. I'm not at all worried, thank you. And please don't let me keep you up any longer, Mrs. Hawley. I am quite comfortable--mentally and physically, I assure you. Good night.” Not even Mrs. Hawley could remain after that. She went out and closed the door carefully behind her, without even finding voice enough to return Valeria's sweetly modulated good night. “She's got a whole lot to learn,” she relieved her feelings somewhat by muttering as she mounted the stairs. What it cost Manley Fleetwood to abstain absolutely and without even the compromise of “soft” drinks that night, who can say? Three years of free living in Montana had lowered his standard of morality without giving him that rugged strength of mind which makes a man master of himself first of all. He had that day lain, drunken and sleeping, when he should have been at his mental and physical best to meet the girl who would marry him. It was that very defection, perhaps, which kept him sober in the midst of his taunting fellows. Now that Valeria was actually here, and was his wife, he was possessed by the desire to make some sacrifice by which he might prove his penitence. At any cost he would spare her pain and humiliation, he told himself.