was the more blameworthy; but his domestic unhappiness in a
measure canceled his guilt--so, at least, said the code under
which Lorelei lived. What concerned her far more than the moral
complexion of the liaison, was her brother's connection with the
unlawful scheme of extortion. Jim, she saw, had gone wrong with a
vengeance, and the consequences to him troubled her, for in spite
of all that he might be or do she cherished a sisterly affection
for him. Family ties were very real and very strong to her--strong
enough to keep her loyal to her kin even after the demoralizing
change in her whole mode of life. The firmest, in fact, the only
bond that she had ever known, was that of blood; obedience,
faithfulness, and affection had been born in her, and she never
thought to question their sacredness.

Idling down Fifth Avenue, she found herself in front of a
fashionable department store. A knot of curious people were gaping
at a unique automobile which stood in the line of vehicles along
the curb, and she paused to look. The equipage was snow-white in
color; its upholstery was of soft, white leather; the chauffeur
and a stiff-backed footman were in blood-red with white facings on
their livery. Upon their left sleeves was worked the gold monogram
"A. D." In their caps both men wore cockades that resembled
shaving-brushes. A tiny mop of a lap-dog, imprisoned within the
closed body of the car, was barking frenziedly at the throng. He
was an animated bundle of cotton, with shoe-button eyes sewed into
one end. As for the car itself, Lorelei decided it to be a
combination of every absurd tradition of the coach-builder's art.
Across the doors, in gold letters an inch high, was the name
"Adoree Demorest."