"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!"