"But, Lorelei--" He set the glass down with a mirthless laugh. "Of
course, I won't, if you insist. I intended to taper off--a chap
can't turn teetotaler the way he turns a handspring." He eyed the
glass with a sudden intensity of longing. "Let's begin to-morrow.
Nobody starts a new life at two A. M. And--it's all poured out."

She answered by taking the glass and flinging its contents from
the open window. This done, she gathered the bottles from the
sideboard--there were not many--and, opening the folding-doors
that masked the kitchenette, she up-ended them over the sink. When
the last gurgle had died away she went to her husband and put her
arms around his neck.

"You must," she said, gently. "If you'll only let me have my way
we'll win. But, Bob, dear, it's going to be a bitter fight."

Lorelei's family spent most of the night in discussing their great
good fortune. Even Jim, worn out as he was by his part in the
events connected with the marriage, sat until a late hour planning
his sister's future, and incidentally his own. After he had gone
to bed mother and father remained in a glow of exhilaration that
made sleep impossible, and it was nearly dawn when they retired to
dreams of hopes achieved and ambitions realized.

About nine-thirty on the following morning, just when the rival
Wall Street forces were gathering, Hannibal Wharton called up the
Knight establishment.

Mrs. Knight was impatient and at first refused to be disturbed,