Paula had left for bed at ten o’clock. Not till one did the bridge break up. Dick, his arm about Ernestine in brotherly fashion, said good night to Graham where one of the divided ways led to the watch tower, and continued on with his pretty sister-in-law toward her quarters.

“Just a tip, Ernestine,” he said at parting, his gray eyes frankly and genially on hers, but his voice sufficiently serious to warn her.

“What have I been doing now?” she pouted laughingly.

“Nothing� as yet. But don’t get started, or you’ll be laying up a sore heart for yourself. You’re only a kid yet — eighteen; and a darned nice, likable kid at that. Enough to make ‘most any man sit up and take notice. But Evan Graham is not