With a person of such resilient temperament, one who gamboled through life like a faun, argument was difficult. Bob Wharton was pagan in his joyous inconsequence; his romping spirits could not be damped; he bubbled with the optimism of a Robin Goodfellow. Ahead of him he saw nothing but dancing sunshine, heard nothing but the Pandean pipes. The girl wife watched him curiously. "I wonder if you can," she mused. "Before we begin our new life we're going to make a bargain, binding on both of us. You'll have to stop drinking. I won't live with a drunkard. I'll work until you've mastered the craving." "No!" Bob declared, firmly. "I'll take the river before I'll let you--keep me. Why, if I--" Lorelei rose and laid her hand over his lips, saying quietly: "I'm planning our happiness, don't you understand? and it's a big stake. You must pocket your pride for a while. Nobody will know. We've made a botch of things so far, and there is only one way for us to win out." "A man who'd let his wife--" "A man who WOULDN'T let his wife have her way at first is a brute." "You shouldn't ask it," he cried, sullenly. "I don't ask it: I insist upon it. If you refuse we can't go on." "Surely you don't mean that?" He looked up at her with grave, troubled eyes. "I do. I'm entirely in earnest. You haven't strength to go out among your friends and restrain yourself. No man as far gone as you could do it." "I've a simpler way than that," he told her, after a moment's thought. "There are institutions where they straighten fellows up. I'll go to one of those." "No." She rejected this suggestion positively. "They only relieve; they don't cure. The appetite comes back. This is something you must do yourself, once and for all. You must fight this out in secret; this city is no place for men with appetites they can't control. Do this for me, Bob, and--and I'll let you do anything after that. I'll let you--beat me." Getting no response from him, she added gravely, "It is that or--nothing." "I can't let you go," Bob said, finally. "Good! We'll keep this apartment and I'll go on working--" He hid his face in his hands and groaned. "Gee! I'm a rotter." "You can sell your belongings at the Charlevoix, and we'll use the money. We'll need everything, for I can't piece out my salary the way I've been doing. There can't be any more supper-parties and gifts--" "I should hope not," he growled. "I'll murder the first man who speaks to you." "Then is it a real, binding bargain?" "It is--if you'll bind it with another kiss," he agreed, with a miserable attempt at cheerfulness. "But I sha'n't look myself in the face." For the first time she came to him willingly. "Doesn't it seem nice to be honest with yourself and the world?" she sighed, after a time. "Yes," he laughed. "I'm sorry to cut the governor adrift, but he'll have to get along without our help."