Bob was pale and a bit unsteady when he arrived, but Lorelei saw
that he suffered only from the effects of his previous debauch. He
was extremely self-conscious and uneasy in her presence, though he
kissed her with a brave show of confidence.

"I galloped into the bank just as they slammed the doors," he
explained, "but my bookkeeping is rotten."

"Yes?"

"My accounts somehow never tally with theirs, and they always
explain very patiently--it's a patient bank--that they use adding-
machines. Beastly nuisance, this constant figuring, especially
when you never hit the right answer. But a man can't expect to
compete with one of those mechanical contraptions."

"Are you trying to tell me that you have overdrawn?"

"Exactly. But I drew against the old gentleman, as usual, so on
with the dance. What's the--er--idea of the apron?"

"It's nearly dinner-time."

Bob's eyes opened with surprise. "Why, we're going to
Delmonico's."

"I'd--rather do this if you don't mind." She eyed him appealingly.
"I don't feel equal to going out to-night. I'm--afraid."