raillery.

Jim had ordered supper at a popular Washington Heights inn, and
thither the quartette were driven in an open car which he hired in
the square beside the theater.

As the glassy expanse of upper Broadway unrolled before them Bob
explained: "My chauffeur quit to invest his savings in real
estate, so I sold my machine. If he'd only listened to my advice
and bought stocks with my money I might have made a good
commission and afforded to keep a car. But nobody deals with the
brokers nowadays." He sighed gloomily. "We live lonely lives. We
are objects of suspicion--even the newsboys bite the pennies we
give them."

Jim scoffed. "I suppose you Pittsburg plunderers don't know where
your next meal is coming from."

"Mine is coming from you, I hope, otherwise I'll be a public
charge until banking-hours."

"You've been gambling again," Lorelei accused.

Bob nodded carelessly.

At their destination they found seats on a balcony overlooking the
Hudson; and Jim, being in funds, played host with a prodigality
that mimicked Wharton.

It was a charming place for a supper; the wooded bluffs fell away