"Hm-m! Nothing very extreme about that," remarked Merkle, at length.
"It would be beautiful if it were better done."
Lorelei agreed. She had been staring with all a woman's intentness at this sister whose strength consisted of her frailty, and now inquired:
"How does she get away with it?"
"By the power of suggestion, I dare say. Her public is looking for something devilish, and discovers whatever it chooses to imagine in what she says and does."
Hannibal Wharton had changed his seat, and, regardless of the dancer, began a conversation with Merkle. After a time Lorelei heard him say:
"It cost me five thousand dollars to pay for the damage those boys did.
They threatened to jail Bob, but of course I couldn't allow that."
"I remember. That was five years ago, and Bob hasn't changed a whit. I think he's a menace to society."
Wharton laughed, but his reply was lost in the clamorous demand for an encore by Mlle. Demorest.
"So he gets his devilment from you, eh?" Merkle inquired.
"It isn't devilment. Bob's all right. He's running with a fast crowd, and he has to keep up his end."