"If a man became the greatest stock-jobber in the world, who would remember him after he was gone? Miss Avery, I earnestly want to serve. My deepest ambition is to leave some mark for the better upon my environment, my city, and my State. I am baring my small dream for you to look at, you see. Now this little college ..." But a daring youth by the name of Beverley Byrd bore Miss Avery away for the figure which was just then forming, and the little college hung in the air for the nonce. Mr. West was so fortunate as to secure the hand of Miss Weyland for the figure, he having taken the precaution to ask that privilege when he greeted her some minutes since. Couple behind couple they formed, the length of the great room, and swung away on a brilliant march. "It's going to be a delicious German--can't you tell by the _feel_?" began Sharlee, doing the march with a _deux-temps_ step. "I'm so glad to see you, for it seems ages since we met, though, you know, it was only last week. Is not that a nice speech for greeting? Only I must tell you that I've said it to four other men already, and the evening is yet young." "Is there nothing in all the world that you can say, quite new and special, for me?" "Oh, yes! For one thing your partner to-night is altogether the loveliest thing I ever saw. And for another--" "I am listening." "For another, _her_ partner to-night is quite the nicest man in all this big, big room." "And how many men have you said that to to-night, here in the youth of the evening?" But the figure had reached that point where the paths of partners must diverge for a space, and at this juncture Sharlee whirled away from him. Around and up the room swept the long file of low-cut gowns and pretty faces, and step for step across the floor moved a similar line of swallow-tail and masculinity. At the head of the room the two lines curved together again, round meeting round, and here, in good time, the lovely billow bore on Sharlee, who slipped her little left hand into West's expectant right with the sweetest air in the world. "Nobody but you, Charles Gardiner West," said she. The whistle blew; the music changed; and off they went upon the dreamy valse.