of conditions to--be nasty."

Bob missed a step, then apologized. His next words were facetious,
but his tone was ugly; "Where do you want the remains sent?"

"Will you wait and see that mine are safely sent home?" She leaned
back, and her troubled twilight eyes besought him.

"I'll wait, never fear. I've been looking everywhere for you. I
wanted to find you, and I didn't want to. I've been to every cafe
in town. How in the world did you fall in with the old bell-cow
and her calf?"

When Lorelei had explained, he nodded his complete understanding.
"She's just the sort to do a thing like that. Thompson, the first
martyr, was a decent fellow, I believe; then she kidnapped
Bellaire, a young wine-agent. Tuberculosis got him, and she's been
known ever since as 'the widow T. B.' I suppose you'd call her
'the leading Juvenile.'"

Lorelei felt a great relief at the presence of this far from
admirable young man, for, despite his vicious reputation, he
seemed clean and wholesome as compared with Bergman. She was sure,
moreover, that he was trustworthy, now that he knew and liked her,
and she remembered that of all the men she had met since that
newspaper scandal had appeared, he alone had betrayed no knowledge
of it in word or deed.

On this occasion Wharton justified her faith. He ignored Bergman's
scowls; he proceeded to monopolize the manager's favorite with an