He looked at her reproachfully. "That's an insult to Jim—he's a business man, he is. More than that—Oh yes, and I'll take care of him again—this very night. I'll stake him. He knows a place."
"Will you do me a favor?" she asked, after a pause.
Wharton assured her with abnormal emphasis that her lightest wish was law.
"Then go straight home from here," she pleaded.
"I say, that's not fair." Bob looked ludicrously shocked. "I promised Jim—Wouldn't have me break a sacred promise, would you? We're expected—a little game all arranged where we can bust it quick. If you hear a loud noise—that'll be Melcher going broke."
"Melcher!" Lorelei looked sharply at her brother, who was approaching with her wraps, and noted that he was perfectly sober. A moment later she checked Bob in the act of giving directions to the cab-driver:
"Wait. Where do you live, Mr. Wharton?"
"The Charlevoix." It was the most expensive bachelor apartment building in the city.
"Drive to the Charlevoix," she told the chauffeur.
"Hold on, Sis," cried Jim. "We're going to take you home first."