follow. But to succeed in them all, when there was no love to
strengthen her, was by no means easy. Always she felt a great
emptiness, and a disappointment that her life had been so
crookedly fashioned: sometimes she even felt degraded, and
wondered if she were doing right, after all. Reason argued that to
live with a man she did not love was immoral, and the mere fact
that she and Bob were legally married gave her no comfort
whatever. There had been nothing sacred in their union; she
supposed that the courts would dissolve it if the truth became
known.

More than once Lorelei had spurned offers far more profitable and
no less holy than that existing between her and Bob, and it seemed
to her now that the difference between mistress and wife must lie
in something besides the mutterings of a sleepy Hoboken court
officer. Just where the line of demarcation lay, however, or upon
which side of that line she stood, she could not determine.

In the course of a fortnight Bob began to grow restless. One
evening when he came for her she saw that he was nervous; a
strained, tired look had crept into his eyes, and she thought she
understood. Nevertheless his spirits were ebullient. When they
reached home he ushered her into the apartment with a flourish,
and Lorelei was amazed to find their table set with strange linen,
silver, and china and the dining-room decorated as if for a party.

"Who's coming? What on earth?" she exclaimed.

"A little surprise. A supper for just you and me, my dear."