But, once on the steps of the building, with the cold wind blowing against his heated face, he paused, irresolute. Where should he go? What could he find to take his mind from the disappointment he seemed unable to shake off? It was scarcely half past twelve, and he had never felt less sleepy. The idea of going back to his rooms and tossing restlessly about for hours, with only his thoughts to keep him company, was intolerable. As he waited, undecided, the doors behind him were thrust suddenly open, and two young fellows issued forth precipitately. One of them was singing a popular song, to which the other beat time on the marble pavement with his stick, laughing boisterously at frequent intervals. As Lawrence drew aside to let them pass, the song ceased instantly, and a pair of arms were flung about his neck with an unexpectedness and force which made him stagger back a pace or two. "Li’l’ Barry!" exclaimed the youth, with maudlin joyousness. "M’ long-los’ college chum! Lemme give you good hug!" The flash of annoyance which Lawrence had felt at first gave place instantly to a thrill of pleasure as he recognized Reggie Minturn, one of his classmates, whom he had not seen in months. "Hel-lo, Reg!" he cried, removing the arms gently, but firmly, from his shoulders, and shaking the chap’s hand heartily. "What in the world are you up to, leaving the dance so early?" Minturn, still gripping his hand, teetered gently back and forth on his heels, regarding Lawrence with a wide stare of preternatural gravity. "Child’s play," he presently announced solemnly. "Jack ’n’ I want some ’citement. You know Jack? No, course not. Jack, this’s my frien’—very dear frien’. Wantche know—Mister—er—Barry. Shake han’s." The other individual, still chuckling inanely, took Barry’s hand, and shook it until Minturn forcibly intervened. "That’s ’nough," he said, linking his arm with Lawrence’s. "You’re comin’ with us, Barry. We goin’ to have some ’citement. Dean’s, you know." Barry started slightly, and a faint frown furrowed his forehead. Dean’s was one of the most select and high-class gambling houses in the city, and he pictured to himself the alacrity with which these two helpless chaps would be stripped of their last cent. "What do you want to go there for?" he asked quietly. "Why don’t you come around to my place and have a game of poker? It’s much nearer." Minturn shook his head stubbornly. "Do’ want poker," he announced. "Wan’ roulette. Come on!" For a second Lawrence hesitated. Then, realizing his helplessness, he gave a resigned shrug, and allowed himself to be dragged out to where a taxi waited at the curb. If he could not keep the two away from the gambling joint, at least he might prevent their losing very much. They piled into the car, with much laughter, and, when Minturn had given a certain address to the chauffeur, and settled down for a second, Barry proceeded to put his plan into operation.