Peter, by and by, began to have a notion that Sarah wasn't enjoying herself. There was a party in one of the booths--Peter could not see them without turning, but he had a feeling in the back of his head that they were paying more attention to Sarah than she liked. But perhaps he was wrong about it. What with the lights and the music and the dancing, he was beginning to feel like rolling out a little song himself--a little more maybe about the _Boundin' Biller_--but Sarah suddenly started to draw on her gloves. And she looked tired; and Peter hurried to pay the bill and tip the waiter--fifty cents. The waiter thanked him with more respect than Peter would have thought was in him. Peter was jumping up to put Sarah's coat on her before his waiter could do it, when a strange waiter came over with a glass of champagne and set it on the table before Sarah. "The gentleman wishes to know if the young lady will have a glass of wine with him." Some joker, of course. Peter smiled till he saw that Sarah was looking frightened. "Who sent it?" asked Peter. The waiter looked over to the booth which Peter had had in mind earlier. Peter looked over that way. A head darted out and back into the corner of the booth. Peter's eyebrows lowered and his eyes narrowed. It looked like a familiar sail. "Did he say anything about a drink for me?" asked Peter. The waiter started to smile and then said "No, sir," very quickly. Peter picked up the glass delicately. "Do you want to drink this wine, Sarah?" "Oh, Peter!" "It's all right--I knew you didn't," assured Peter. He stepped over to the booth. He was right about the man in the corner--it was Henston. More than the shipping of goods was discussed in the shipping-room, and there was more than that glass of wine in Peter's mind when he looked in on Henston in the booth. There was a sales-girl who had lost her job in Pentle's. It was Henston who had taken advantage of his position to start her on the wrong road. "The young lady," said Peter to Henston, "don't want to drink your health." "Too bad--she drank it before," said Henston. Peter had hard work to keep the wine from spilling. "If you don't believe me, ask her," said Henston. "What's that?" Peter said that to gain time to get his balance. "I said, Ask her." "You--you squid, you!" Peter whipped the glass of wine into Henston's face and with that reached across for him. The two men nearest to Peter in the booth stood up to stop him. Peter reached a hand to the collar of each, stepped back, and brought their faces crashing together. "It's my fight and his--keep out, you!" said Peter, and swept them back and down into their seats.