When that dance ended May left him to go straight to Ivy. Robin saw her shake hands and sit down beside Dan Mayne’s daughter and talk with a gracious smile. He didn’t stay to see the outcome of that. He was a little uneasy. He knew Ivy. She could be gracious when she chose, but she could also be very difficult with members of her own sex. Robin let his desire for a smoke take him outside. There, as he leaned against the building he overheard a snatch of conversation just around the corner. He knew one of the voices--Tex Matthews. The other was strange. Robin would have moved instantly, but the first sentence held him. “Who was the good-lookin’ kid dancin’ with Sutherland’s daughter. I don’t mean young Stevens or the other one--the boy with the wavy hair?” “Robin Tyler. You know--I told you.” “I see. An’ that was his girl Shinin’ danced with. Say, they make well-matched couples paired that way, eh? Looked to me like the blond princess likes the kid. An’ I don’t reckon the red-headed school-teacher better be too sure of Mark, eh? Two pair, queens up.” The man chuckled at his fancy. “Queens all right,” Matthews drawled. “Well, I’ve seen two pair, queens up, hard to beat before now.” “Old Adam Sutherland could beat any two pair in the deck with an ace in the hole, the way he’s fixed,” the other man laughed. “I don’t suppose old Adam aims his girl to marry no common cow hand. Still, you never can tell. I’d play that curly-headed kid for a king any time.” “And the other one’s a jack--a measly jack,” Matthews said harshly. “Remember that old jingle ‘The queen of hearts, she made some tarts upon a summer day. The jack of hearts, he stole those tarts and carried them away.’ Well----” “Say,” the other man lowered his voice discreetly, “don’t talk like that out loud, Tex. Cracks like that can make trouble. I guess we better not hit that bottle again.” “It wasn’t whisky made me say that,” Tex replied. “And I don’t ever talk in my sleep. There won’t be no trouble until--well, until I know better where we’re at. Then maybe I’ll start her myself.” Robin withdrew softly, a little ashamed for listening, a little disturbed by what he had heard--and puzzled also by the last exchange of sentences. But it seemed to have no bearing on his affairs. There was a two-step playing now and Robin sought a partner. By midnight he had been unable to claim more than a couple of dances from Ivy and these she quite patently danced under protest, refusing to smile at him, scarcely condescending to talk. This sullen resentment she kept for him alone. With every other man she was bright as new-minted gold, even gay. And she danced oftenest of all with Mark Steele. Slowly there grew in Robin’s breast a curiously mingled ache and anger. She wouldn’t play fair and he was impotent to do anything about it. For the supper dance Ivy flatly turned him down. “Go dance it with May Sutherland,” she said tartly. “I got a partner.”