at The Glen." As they were leaving the roem Ephraim stepped up to Norma and said in an undertone, not heard by his sister; "Not the Daybreak Club under any circumstances." There were any number of interpretations that could be given her look of astonishment. As a final word she said: "Let us hope our gallant young golf hero will sufficiently recover from the weariness of his task to join us tomorrow evening. We cannot go alone always, you know."

A large limousine, electrically lighted, drove up in front of the Adamson mansion promptly at nine o'clock. A liveried footman alighted, and held a cover of delicate texture over his arm while assisting Norma and Annabelle into the car. "The Palace," directed the former, before her footman took his seat upon the box with the chauffeur. Norma thought the diversity at that popular place of entertainment best suited to the taste of one who knew so little of amusement. The dash, the daring, the daintiness of the dancing appealed to her own appetite for action. Almost any actor or actress could reach her interest and affection if sufficiently extreme. She loathed the slow people, and ordinary things of life.

The ingenuousness of the ingenues, the follies of "The Follies," the acting show of artificialities, the clever, fascinating dancing and other numbers acted like a tonic to Annabelle. She was more beautiful than ever as at the close they stepped into the foyer to await the announcement of their car. A small theatre party of Aunt Norma's friends chanced to encounter them as they were going out. They were full of life and laughter, the latter being of hyperbolical character.

Just such meetings as this is the starting point of much that is deplorable in the later conduct of well meaning men and women A dinner, a trip to some Bohemian resort, or a dance at one of the well known clubs, is suggested. No one wants to object. All are "game," and off they go. Their error is due to lack of stamina. Aunt Norma was essentially too pliable in the hands of friends, who molded her quickly to their will. She never deliberately went about the

improprieties that entangled her. She simply drifted along with the tide of questionable association. Just as the buds on the trees reappear in the spring, and beautiful blosoms come to cheer us, as though their absence had been side trips of blessing to inmates in other climes, so fine friends appear to cheer and enrapture us. The other kind come to place a blight upon our souls. It was on this occasion one of the latter undesirables who introduced the suggestion of a stampede to the Daybreak Club. Only mild protests were heard, and not one for a better reason than the lateness of the hour.

On 4-d Street, just off Fifth Avenue, stands а white marble palace. It was built by a banker who cracked the whip of financial authority about Wall Street ears for a time, and then cracked a cartridge that blew out his own brains, because he could not maintain the fantastic pace he had set for himself. The decorations originally were by a London woman, who had restored many ancient homes and enlivened new ones. As the original design had since fallen into disuse and disfavor, things had been changed. All the fine proportions, with paneling, grand old staircase and hall remained, but rearrangement to fit it for an entirely different use had wrought great changes. The ball room occupied an entire floor. The restaurant, private dining rooms, card rooms and "jungle," where every conceivable equipment of gambling devices was established, served as poor substitutes for Chippendale seats, Sheraton writing desks and fire screens, Hepplewhite satin wood tables, rare Chinese rugs and rich tapestries, that had once been essential to a congruous whole.

This was the Daybreak Club, so called because its sessions lasted nightly until morning. Who were its members? The idle rich. What strange qualification

was enforced, not only in the membership roll but in personnel of guests introduced? No married man whose wife was a member could gain admission under any circumstance. So with a married man affiliated with the Daybreak Club. His wife never was permitted to see its mysterious precincts. The reason must be obvious to a lucid mind. "Dead men tell no tales." Enraged women and men when driven to the divorce courts, relate some awful tales, if such are known to them. If unknown, they can go no further than the inventive genius of their romancing attorney, who schools them. Do you get the point? This law of the club if not usual was at least most judicious, in view of the actual happenings at this exclusive resort. The only barrier to single persons, whether young or old, was limited means, and a "leaky" tongue.

Ephraim had said: "Not the Daybreak Club."

CHAPTER XXIV.

Partially, the absence of will power enough to avert disaster, but more particularly, a woman's pique, which follows wounded pride, found Norma in a condition to do something extraordinary. Then she found herself confronted with social cronies emerging from the theatre.

"Not the Daybreak Club," an admonition she thought coming with poor grace from Ephraim, had been ringing in her ear throughout the entire performance. After accompanying Norma there habitually for weeks, and consorting with the habitues, he had absolutely refused to permit his sister to go there. He issued, as it were, an injunction, so far as his authority permitted, restraining Norma from following her own inclination. Not alone this, Ephraim had declined to accompany the two on pleasure bent, on the first occasion possible since the arrival of his sister

The love of adventure was plainly coming into being in the view of Annabelle. She smiled assent when her Aunt hesitated and turned to her for a sign of approval. In all, a party of possibly twenty defilers. of the hours of beauty-sleep, were soon wending their way to a scene of more riotous hilarity and gay improprieties than Norma for a moment expected.

Annabelle was so innocent of the informalities, to speak charitably of the scenes she witnessed, that her maiden simplicity shone like a precious jewel in an unbecoming setting.

With the quick eye of a male vulture, a rapacious bird of prey in the party took in the sweet face and maiden simplicity of the little country girl. He was tolerated by the Daybreak Club membership because