them, around whose edges glowed a subdued light from within. A drab, battered, paintless shack, she thought, dismal and unpleasant; while she gazed, the sound of the discordant music recommenced, adding, it seemed, the last unprepossessing item. "It doesn't look very attractive, Nick," she observed dubiously. "I find it so, however." "Then you've been here?" "Yes." "But I thought you said you didn't know any place to go." "This one hadn't occurred to me--then." "Well," she said crisply, "I could have done as well as this with my eyes closed. It doesn't appeal to me at all, Nick." "Nevertheless, here's where we'll go. You're apt to find it--interesting." "Look here, Nicholas Devine!" Pat snapped, "What makes you think you can bully me? No one has ever succeeded yet!" "I said you'd find it interesting." His voice was unchanged; she stared at him in complete bafflement. "Oh, Nick!" she exclaimed in suddenly softer tones. "What difference does it make? Didn't I say anywhere would do, so we went together?" She smiled at him. "This will do if you wish, though really, Honey, I'd prefer not." "I do wish it," the other said. "All right, Honey," said Pat the faintest trace of reluctance in her voice as she slipped from the car. "I stick to my bargains." She winced at the intensity of his grip as he took her arm to assist her. His fingers were like taunt wires biting into her flesh. "Nick!" she cried. "You're hurting me! You're bruising my arm!" He released her; she rubbed the spot ruefully, then followed him to the door of the mysterious establishment. The unharmonious jangle of the piano dinned abruptly louder as he swung the door open. Pat entered and glanced around her at the room revealed. Dull, smoky, dismal--not the least exciting or interesting as yet, she thought. A short bar paralleled one wall, behind which lounged a little, thin, nondescript individual with a small mustache. Half a dozen tables filled the remainder of the room; four or five occupied by the clientele of the place, as unsavory a group
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