Miss Wyeth tittered; the sophomore with the bristling pompadour
uttered a bark of amusement. Meeting Bob's questioning glance,
Lorelei seconded the invitation with a nod and a quick look of
appeal, whereupon his demeanor changed and he drew a chair between
her and Nobel Bergman, forcing the latter to move. His action was
pointed, almost rude, but the girl felt a surge of gratitude sweep
over her.

There was an interlude of idle chatter, then the orchestra burst
into full clamor once more. Much to the chagrin of her escort,
Lorelei rose and danced away with the new-comer.

"Why the distress signal?" queried Bob.

"Mr. Bergman has--been drinking."

"Rum is poison," he told her, with mock indignation. "He must be a
low person."

"He's getting unpleasant."

"Shall I take him by the nose and run around the block?"

"You can do me a favor."

He was serious in an instant. "You were nice to me the other
night. I'm sorry to see you with this fellow."

"He forced--he deceived me into coming, and he's taking advantage