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 hand. Wade explained the system of carriage calling, and Dave blocked the traffic for a minute while he looked up at the electric announcer. "Gee, ain't that cute?" he marvelled. "What they don't think of nowadays ain't much!"

The big, heavily-decorated house was well filled, and all save the upper rows of boxes held their quota of over—or under-dressed women, with here and there a dark coat marking the presence of a male escort. One gown, of flamingo red, caught Dave's fancy at once.

"Now there's what I call a real pretty dress, partner," he said in a hoarse whisper. "That's bang-up, ain't it. But, say, boy, ain't she a le-eetle bit old to be wearin' such bright colors?"

That the subject of Dave's remarks didn't overhear them was merely because she was at the other side of the house, for Dave's faintest and most confidential whispers had the soft and dulcet qualities pertaining to a mountain avalanche or a distant