More than once John Aldous had looked upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would again be the builders of an empire.

The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind the strength of the picture.

They were but moths, fluttering about in their own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve destruction.
For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and nowhere did he see DeBar.

He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped soup-tent.

At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the dance-hall.