"The city is full of Samsons, and most of them have their
Delilahs."

Merkle agreed. "These men put Hammon where he is. I wonder if they
will let him stay there. It depends upon that girl yonder." He
turned to answer a question from Hannibal Wharton, and Lorelei
gave her attention to the part of the entertainment which was
beginning on the stage. Turn after turn appeared; black-faced
comedians, feature acts from vaudeville and from the reigning
successes, high-priced singers, dancers, monologists followed each
other. Occasionally they were applauded, but more frequently their
efforts to amuse were lost in the self-made merriment of the
diners. Now and then an actor was bombarded with jests or openly
guyed. Music and wine flowed as steadily as the crystal stream of
the fountain; faces became flushed; glasses rang. The women
chattered; the men raised loud voices; the birds fluttered and the
peacocks shrieked. It all blended in a blood-stirring,
Bacchanalian joviality. Only now and then the frolic threatened to
become a carouse, and the revel bordered upon a debauch.

Of a sudden the clamor was silenced, and indifference gave place
to curiosity, for the music had begun the introduction to one of
Adoree Demorest's songs.

"Her rubies are the finest in the world." "Too strong for Paris,
so she came to New York." "Anything goes here if it's bad enough,"
came from various quarters.

Lorelei had never seen this much-discussed actress, whose