feeling the strain. The shorts are running to cover, and there's a
report that it was suicide, which makes things worse. It couldn't
have happened at a more inopportune time, either. Dad's on his way
from Pittsburg to help save Merkle's bank."

"Shouldn't you have been at business on such a day?"

Bob shrugged carelessly. "I'm only a 'joke' broker. The governor
thinks a firm-name looks well on my cards. I hope he doesn't lose
more than a million in this flurry--it won't improve his
disposition. But--wait till he learns I've married a girl who can
fry things--By the way--" Bob paused. "I invited a friend to dine
with us tonight."

Lorelei was less dismayed than he had expected. "So have I," she
said.

"I thought it might be pleasanter for you," he explained, a bit
awkwardly, "inasmuch as we're not very well--acquainted. I saw
before I went out that you were--er--embarrassed--and--and--" He
flushed boyishly, scarcely conscious of the delicacy that had
prompted his action. "Anyhow, he's gone home to put on a clean
sweater."

"You don't mean you asked--?"

"Campbell Pope; yes. I met him, and he looked hungry. He's coming
here at six." For almost the first time in Bob's society Lorelei
laughed out clearly.