Merkle bowed. "I can trust your discretion. Thank you for listening to me, and thank you for being agreeable to an irascible old dyspeptic. Will you permit me to drive you home when you're ready?"
"I'm ready now."
But as Lorelei made her way unobtrusively toward the cloak-room she encountered Robert Wharton, who barred her path.
"Fairy Princess, you ran away," he declared, accusingly.
"I'm leaving." She saw that his intoxication had reached a more advanced stage. His cheeks were flushed; his eyes were wild and unsteady.
"Good news! The night is young; we'll watch it grow up."
"Thank you, no. I'm going home."
"A common mistake. Others have tried and failed." With extreme gravity he focused his gaze upon her, saying, "Home is the one place that our mayor can't close."
She extended her hand. "Good night."
"I don't understand. Speak English."