Pope--actually BELIEVES what he wrote. And other people will
believe it, too. I--I--Gosh! I'm going to cry again."

Lorelei nodded in perfect sympathy; she did not laugh. "I haven't
any girl chum; let's be friends," said she.

Adoree had been nibbling at marshmallows as she talked; as she
wiped her eyes now she left a smear of powdered sugar on her
cheek.

"I'd love to--I'm simply bursting to confide in somebody--but we
couldn't go around together."

"Why? I don't care what people think."

"You can't afford to be reckless. We're each playing our own game
and chasing the dollar in our own way. The men you met would make
life unbearable for you if they knew we were pals. Aubrey was
right: a girl must either be mighty good or mighty bad in this
business--or make people think she is, which amounts to the same
thing. You have had easy going because you're known to be
straight; but if you ever get into the papers watch what will
happen. You'll have to fight. You wouldn't like that kind of
fighting, either, and--I'm not sure you could stand it."

As Lorelei walked homeward that afternoon she felt an unaccustomed
warmth in her breast, and realized that she, too, had been very
lonely in the city. The certainty that she had made a friend
gladdened her heart. She looked forward with a thrill to the
morrow when she could see Adoree again.