The glasses were filled and raised. "Ho!" said Conward. "Here's looking!" said one of the girls. Dave still hesitated, but the other girl clinked her glass against his. "Here's looking at you," she said, and she appeared to lay special emphasis on the last two words. Certainly her eyes were on Dave's as she raised her glass to her lips. And under the spell of those eyes he raised his glass and drained it. Other glasses were filled and drained. The three were chattering away, but Dave was but vaguely conscious of their talk, and could weave no connected meaning into it. His head was buzzing with a pleasant dreamy sensation. A very grateful warmth surrounded him, and with it came a disposition to go to sleep. He probably would have gone to sleep had his eye not fallen on a picture on the wall, It was a picture of a girl pointing her finger at him. He suspected that she was pointing it at him, and as he looked more closely he became very sure of it. . . No girl could point her finger at him. He arose and made a lunge across the room. He missed her, and with difficulty retraced his steps to the table to make a fresh start. "She's makin' fun of me," he said, "an' I don't stand for that. Nobody can do that with me. Nobody--see? I don't 'low it." "Oh, you don't," laughed one of the girls, running into a corner and pointing a finger at him. "You don't?" He turned his attention to her, steadying himself very carefully before he attempted an advance. Then, with wide-stretched arms, he bore down cautiously upon her. When he had her almost within reach she darted along the edge of the room. He attempted a sudden change in direction, which ended disastrously, and he found himself very much sprawled out upon the floor. He was aware of laughter, but what cared he? He was disposed to sleep. What better place to sleep than this? What better time to sleep than this? In a moment he was lost to all consciousness. . . . It was later in the night when he felt himself being dragged into a sitting posture. He remonstrated in a mumbling voice. "'S too early," he said. "Altogether too early. Early. Whew! Watch 'er spin. Jus' his job. Paid for it, ain't he?" "Well, I ain't paid for this," said Conward, rather roughly, "and you got to pull yourself together. Here, take a little of this; it'll put some gimp into you." He pressed a glass to his lips, and Dave swallowed. "Where am I?" he said, blinking at the light. He rose uncertainly to his feet and stared about the room in returning consciousness. "Where's the girls?" he asked. "Gone," said Conward, sulkily. "Couldn't expect 'em to stick around all night to say good bye, could you, and you sleeping off your drunk?" Dave raised his hand to his head. A sense of disgrace was already upon him. Then he suddenly turned in anger on Conward. "You put this up on me," he cried. "You made a fool of me. I've a mind to bash your skull in for you."