supplementing Jim's MENU with rare and expensive viands. As a
great favor, he was advised of a newly imported vintage wine which
the proprietor had secured for his own use; if Mr. Wharton wished
to try it the steward would appeal directly to Mr. Proctor and
secure the keys as a personal favor. Nothing like this wine had
been seen in New York for years, possibly in a lifetime; it was an
opportunity, and Mr. Proctor was eager to accommodate those who
really knew wines. A visiting prince had offered him a fabulous
price for the remaining bottles, but he had refused. To partake of
this vintage was almost like drinking up the sunshine; darkness,
complete and eternal, would follow when this precious shipment was
exhausted.

Of course Mr. Wharton wished to sample such a vintage, any
vintage, in fact, since a thousand fires were consuming him, and
his nerves were on edge from the night before. The first draught
electrified him, his spirits rose and he swept his companions
along with his enthusiasm. From surrounding tables people accosted
him; men paused in passing to exchange a word about stocks, polo,
scandal, Newport, tennis, Tuxedo; none were in the least stiff or
formal, and all expressed in one way or another their admiration
for Lorelei. Women whom she knew were not of her world beamed and
smiled at the young millionaire. It was a new experience for the
girl, who felt herself, as the supper progressed, becoming
conspicuous without the usual disagreeable accompaniments. Men no
longer openly ogled her; women did not nudge each other and
whisper; her presence in company with a member of the idolized
rich was causing gossip, but gossip of a flattering kind.

All this attention, however, had quite the contrary effect upon