She nodded her amber head. "There's only one Paris, after all, and
that's New York. Don't laugh; I read that. We girls remember all
the clever things we hear, and use them. Do you see the young
person in black and white with the red-nosed man--the one who
looks as if he were smelling a rose? Well, she's in our company,
and she's very popular at these parties because she's so witty. As
a matter of fact, she memorizes the jokes in all the funny papers
and springs them as her own. Her men friends say she's too
original to be in the show business."

For a moment the girl at Merkle's right engaged his attention, and
Lorelei turned again to the incoherent story-teller beside her,
who had made it plain by pawing at her that he was bursting once
more with tidings of great merriment.

The meal grew noisier; the orchestra interspersed sensuous
melodies from the popular successes with the tantalizing rag-time
airs that had set the city to singing. Silent-footed attendants
deposited tissue-covered packages before the guests. There was a
flutter of excitement as the women began to examine their favors.

"What is it?" Merkle inquired, leaning toward Lorelei.

"The new saddle-bag purse. See? It's very Frenchy. Gold fittings--
and a coin-purse and card-case inside. See the monogram? I'm going
to keep this."

"Don't you keep all your gifts?"

"Not the expensive ones. Lilas picked these out for Mr. Hammon,