Two strangers, evidently caterer's men, were completing the final
preparations for an extravagant banquet. Noting a collection of
wine-glasses at each place, Lorelei glanced at Bob reproachfully,
but he only laughed, saying:

"Take heart. The liquid diet is all a bluff. Kindly note the
centerpiece."

She saw that the center of the table was occupied by a highly
decorated silver wine-cooler--empty.

"There it sits," Bob exclaimed, "the little Temple of Bacchus--
overgrown with roses. It used to be my shrine and my confessional
until I saw the light. Now that I've escaped from the bondage of
sin, sickness, and error, I'm giving a triumphal feast upon the
altar steps."

It was one of his whims. During the meal he made elaborate
speeches in the names of his friends. His imaginary guests
congratulated him; in empty glasses they toasted the bride, they
extolled her beauty, they praised his own gallantry, and vaunted
his conquest of the demon rum. As the supper progressed Bob
simulated a growing intoxication, while the hired servants looked
on as if at the antics of a lunatic. He made it amusing, and
Lorelei entered into the spirit of the make-believe. But when they
were alone and all traces of the feast had disappeared he swooped
down out of the clouds and confessed miserably:

"I thought I could kid myself, but I can't. I want a drink. I--
WANT--A--DRINK! God! how I want it!"