sobered up purposely to apologize; I have repented, and--well,
here we are, thanks to brother James."

"Thanks to--Jim?" Lorelei raised her brows.

Pope turned to young Knight and said, politely, "That is my foot
you are stamping on."

Ignoring Jim's mute appeal, Wharton ran on smilingly: "He promised
to shackle you to a table until I could stammer out my halting
apologies, and now that I've done so in the presence of press and
public won't you forgive me and help me to bury the hatchet in a
Welsh rarebit?" He was speaking directly to her with a genuine
appeal in his handsome eyes. Now that she saw him in his right
mind, it was unexpectedly hard to resist him, for he was very
boyish and friendly--quite unlike the person who had so grievously
offended her.

When she and Jim had first entered the restaurant they had
received a polite but casual recognition from the head waiter,
whose duty it was to know all the stage favorites; but there
attentions had ceased. With Wharton as a member of the party,
however, there came a change. The head waiter himself hustled
forward and, catching Lorelei's eye, signaled her with an
appreciative droop of the lid. Her arrangement with Proctor's was
of long standing, and her percentage was fixed, but this time she
did not respond to the sign. Mr. Proctor himself paused
momentarily at the table and rested a hand upon Wharton's shoulder
while he voiced a few platitudes. Then in some inexplicable manner
Robert found himself not only ordering for himself, but