"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't believe the liquor will let you."

"Nonsense. Any man can cut down."

"'Cutting down' won't do for us, Bob." He thrilled anew at her
intimate use of his name. "The chemistry of your body demands the
stuff--you couldn't be temperate in anything. You'll have to
quit."

"All right. I'll quit. I divorce the demon rum; lovers once, but
strangers now. I'll quit gambling, too."

Lorelei laughed. "That won't strain your will-power in the least,
for half my salary goes up Amsterdam Avenue, and the rest will
about run this flat."

Her listener frowned. "Forget that salary talk," he said, shortly.
"D'you think I'd let you--support me? D'you think I'm THAT kind of
a nosegay? When I get so I can't pay the bills I'll walk out. To-
morrow you quit work, and we move to the Ritz--they know me there,
and--this delightful, home-like grotto of yours gives me the
colly-wabbles."

"Who will pay the hotel?" Lorelei smiled.

"Mr. George W. Bridegroom, of course. I'll get the money, never
fear. I know everybody, and I've borrowed thousands of dollars
when I didn't need it. My rooms at the Charlevoix are full of