Maynard swallowed imperceptibly. He wanted Laura to himself. And here was a young man faultlessly attired in evening clothing who came to a place like the Silver Star for dinner. He nodded dully, and followed to another table where a couple sat waiting. The man known as Timmy handed over a twenty solar bill and said, laughingly: "All right, Mart. You win." "What was the bet?" asked Laura. "I bet Mart that he couldn't get you over here." "That was a foolish bet," said Laura. "I'm always happy to be with friends." "We know," said Alice. "But your friend has a brand new set of rayed stars on, and I told both of these monkeys that it looked like a celebration to me--and lay off." "Yeah, but if there's any celebrating to be done, we can do it better," laughed Martin Ingalls. "You aren't here alone?" asked Laura. "I am a recluse tonight," answered Ingalls. "Nobody loves me." "Liar!" said Timmy. "He didn't bother to call anyone." "So he's alone," added Ingalls. "And where do we go from here?" "Let's go to Havana," suggested Alice. "I've been needing some blood pressure." To Maynard she added: "If you know a better way to get high blood pressure without hatred, let me know. Do you?" "Better than what?" asked Guy. "Dice. I crave excitement." "But we just came," objected Maynard. "You can leave," said Ingalls. "After all, the Silver Star is nothing to get wrought up over." "Who's to drive?" asked Alice. "We'll take Mart's junk," said Timmy. "It'll hold the five of us with ease." "Mine is in New Jersey--we could follow," said Maynard. "Now I know we'll take mine," said Martin. "It's on the roof. We'll waste no time dragging all the way to New Jersey." Maynard settled up with the waiter, and within five minutes found himself seated in the rear seat with Martin Ingalls, and Laura Greggor between them. The run to Havana was made during a running fire of light conversation. And from there on, the night became lost to Guy Maynard. He followed. He did not lead, not for one minute. They led him from place to place, and he watched them hazard large sums of money on the turn of a pair of dice. He joined them, gingerly, hiding his qualms, and played cautiously. He won, at first, and permitted himself to enjoy the play as long as he was playing with the other party's money. Then he lost, and tried to buck up his loss with shrewdness. But skill and shrewdness never prevail against an honest pair of dice, and these were strictly honest. So Maynard played doggedly, and his financial status remained the same. He was a couple of hundred solars behind the game. He missed the others, and went to look for them and found them dancing. He stood on the side line for a few minutes, until Laura spied him. She broke from Martin's arms and came to him, leading him on to the floor for the rest of the dancing.