"What's the trouble?" asked Holt. "Too used to the desert to stand our nifty opera-house air? Don't wonder. Come out and have a drink. Plenty of time." "No," said Stainton. He achieved a smile. "I'm all right. Why in the world did you think I wasn't? I'm just----She's eighteen, isn't she?" "Who? Mrs. New----Oh, the girl? Yes, I imagine she is about that. But she's an orphan and hasn't a cent and is too young to mix in, anyhow. Don't you bother: she won't interfere. Come along, if you won't have a drink, and meet the Newberrys. Mrs. Preston is every bit as good as a Bronx cocktail, though she wouldn't be seen in the Bronx for a thousand of 'em." Stainton replied with compressed lips. "I should like to meet Miss--Miss Stannard," he said. "Miss Stannard? The youngster?" Holt broke into a laugh. "Bless my soul! Why, she's not even out yet; and you mean to say----" But Stainton's firm fingers had closed so sharply about Holt's arm that, while the pain of the unexpected grip shot through him, Holt's laughter ended in a gasp. "Don't joke about this," commanded Stainton. "You remember that we used to be friends." "Sure. Aren't we friends now? What's hit you, Jim? We're friends still, I hope. You don't think I'm likely to forget what you once did for me, do you?" "Very well, then: don't joke about Miss Stannard." "No offence intended," said the perplexed Holt; "but why in thunder shouldn't I joke about her?" Stainton's grip loosened, and his eyes twinkled. "After all," he said, "it must have seemed strange to you----" "Strange? It looked like the asylum!" said Holt. "And so," Stainton continued, "I dare say that I do owe you an explanation." He put out his hand again, but Holt dodged. "No more of that!" said Holt. "All right," Stainton answered. He laid a hand on Holt's shoulder. "Can you keep a secret, George?" The clubman blinked in anticipation. "Seems to me we've had a few together," he said. "Then," said Stainton, "I'll tell you why I was a little sensitive about comments on Miss Stannard: I am going to marry her." II YOUNG BLOOD Holt's jaw fell. "I beg your pardon," he stammered; "but I didn't know you even knew her." "I have never met her," said Stainton. "What? Oh, quit your jollying." "I have never met her." "Then--well, you _don't_ need a drink, after all." "After all--that is, after the performance," said Stainton, "I shall explain. Just now I want you to take me to your friends' box and present me all round."