When he and Lilas had danced the encore and returned to the table
Bob rose unsteadily, glass in hand, and nodded at them.

"Thanks, noble comrades," he proclaimed; "she's mine!"

"Hurrah!" Lilas kissed Lorelei effusively. Jim seized Bob's hand,
crying:

"Brother!" He waved to a waiter and ordered a magnum of champagne.
"Bring me a wreath of orange blossoms and a wedding-cake, too."
His jubilation attracted the attention of the other diners; the
occupants of a near-by table began to applaud, whereupon Bob
beamed with delight.

Lorelei was very white now, but she was given no chance to speak.
Nor was there anything for her to say, torn as she was by
conflicting emotions and uncertain of what feeling most strongly
possessed her. Foremost in her thoughts was the realization that
she had won the fight she had been reared and trained for, that
the climax of her worldly hopes had come; but with this she also
experienced a sickly loathing for herself. During Bob's
protestations of love she had fought a brief but disastrous
battle. That moral perfidy which had been her teaching since
childhood had influenced her decision no more perhaps than her
terror at the plight in which her mysterious persecution had left
her. Weighing on the same side with these considerations were also
the needs of her family, her own bitter distaste for her present
life, and her desire for peace and outward respectability even at
the cost of secret degradation. She had decided swiftly,
recklessly, reasoning that this proffered marriage was merely a