"Now don't begin on the Old Home stuff," he replied, testily. "I haven't changed any more than you have. Why, ma used to think you'd play dead or jump through whenever she snapped her finger, but—you're getting tough-bitted. You're getting sanctimonious in your old age. Where you got it from I don't know—not from ma, surely, nor from dad; he's a cheater and always has been."
"JIM!"
"Oh, you know it. I'm wondering—how long you'll stand pat."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really intend to marry a bunch of coin?"
"That's the program, isn't it? I've been raised for that, and nothing else."
"Well, ma can't put it over, so I guess it's up to me. Just leave things to Brother Jim, and don't worry over what happens. Nobody along Broadway pays any attention to this rot." He indicated the newspaper with a wave of his cigar. After a moment he added, "Would you accept Merkle?"
Lorelei shivered. "Oh—no! Not Mr. Merkle."
"Why not? He's all right, and he won't last long."
"The idea is—Ugh! He wouldn't ask me, and I sha'n't allow you to use this scandal to—urge him. The proposition sounds all right in the abstract—marriage, money, comfort, everything I want—but when it comes right down to the point—I—always balk."