"If you shake a bar-towel at Elizabeth she goes under the table," Bert Hayman explained. "We love to get her full." It excited great merriment when, some time later, Miss Courtenay had to be sent home in an automobile, leaving her saddle-horse to be led by her escort.
Lorelei was glad when it came time to dress for dinner. As she went to her room Mrs. Fennell stopped her on the stairs to say:
"My dear, you're stunning in that little black and white. Where did you get it?"
Lorelei gave her the name of her tailor.
"Really! I never heard of her." Mrs. Fennell smiled and laid a soft hand upon her guest's arm. "Elizabeth Courtenay was frantically jealous of you."
"Of me? I don't understand."
"She and Bert are great friends—and he's gone perfectly daft over you. Why, he's telling everybody." Lorelei flushed, to the evident amusement of her hostess, who ran on: "Oh, Bert means it! I never heard him rave so. Quite a compliment, my dear! He declares he's going to win you, so make up your mind to it—he never takes 'no' for an answer." With a playful pat she went on her way, leaving the young wife weak with dismay.
When Bob came in he betrayed an elation only too familiar.
"You've been drinking!" cried Lorelei.
"I had to; I ran fifteen three times. My abstinence is the marvel of the whole party. Why, Clayton has composed a song about it."