"Yes. Bergman has made a fortune out of this kind of show. He's a friend to the 'Tired Business Man.'"
"Speaking of the weary Wall Street workers, there will be a dozen of our ribbon-winners at that Hammon supper to-night. Twelve 'Bergman Beauties.' Twelve; count 'em! Any time you want to pull off a classy party for some of your bachelor friends let me know, and I'll supply the dames—at one hundred dollars a head—and guarantee their manners. They're all trained to terrapin, and know how to pick the proper forks."
"One hundred? Last season a girl was lucky to get fifty dollars as a banquet favor; but the cost of living rises nightly. No wonder Hammon's against the income tax."
"Yes, and that's exclusive of the regulation favors. There's a good story in this party if you could get the men's names."
Pope's thin lip curled, and he shook his head.
"I write theatrical stuff," he said, shortly, "because I have to, not because I like to. I try to keep it reasonably clean."
Slosson was instantly apologetic. "Oh, I don't mean there's anything wrong about this affair. Hammon is entertaining a crowd of other steel men, and a stag supper is either dull or devilish, so he has invited a good-looking partner for each male guest. It 'll be thoroughly refined, and it's being done every night."
"I know it is. Tell me, is Lorelei Knight a regular—er—frequenter of these affairs?"
"Sure. It's part of the graft."
"I see."