"Rest easy," she said. "I've no wish to embarrass you nor to drag my husband into this rotten business. It seems he's as modern as the rest of you, but I'm--old-fashioned." There came a knock at the door, and Hayman's voice, calling: "Betty! Let me in!" His sister opened the door an inch or two. "You mustn't come in now," she expostulated, then cried, sharply: "Why, you're badly hurt. You're all bloody!" As Hayman agreed in a burst of profanity she exclaimed fretfully: "Oh, this is dreadful! Go to your room, for Heaven's sake! I'll see what I can do with this--with Mrs. Wharton." Bert continued to growl until his brother-in-law led him away down the hall. Then Mrs. Fennell turned acidly upon her outraged guest. "Well, you've caused enough trouble, it seems to me, without involving the rest of us in it. A woman of your experience should be more careful. I'm sure Bertie never would have taken such a liberty if he hadn't thought you were accustomed to such things." Lorelei broke out sharply. "You're as badly mistaken as your brother was. But--I should have been more careful; I suppose a woman of my experience shouldn't have come here at all. Now, I don't want to cause any trouble nor scandal, so if you'll permit me to thank you for your hospitality I'll leave at once." "Leave? At this hour?" "In ten minutes, if you'll rouse a chauffeur and let him drive me to the station." "Nonsense! You can't get Bob--" "Bob needn't know anything about it; I'm sure that will be pleasanter all around. I'll go alone." Lorelei's forced smile bared her even, white teeth. "Of course, if it's too much trouble I can walk--" "No trouble at all." Mrs. Fennell showed some relief. "I think you're acting very rudely--but I dare say it WOULD save a lot of unpleasantness; Bertie's furious--he and Bob might fight. I--I'm dreadfully sorry. Still, I can't permit you--" "In ten minutes, then. If there's no train I may ask your chauffeur to drive me into the city." "Why, to be sure! Er--what shall I tell Bob when he asks for you?" "Use your own judgment, please. You can handle drunken men better than I. And don't trouble to send a maid to my room. I'll be down-stairs when the car comes." The hostess continued to demur feebly, but Lorelei cut short any further discussion, and, once behind her own locked door, she dressed with feverish haste. Her only desire now was to escape from Fennellcourt and all its guests as quickly as possible. Her thoughts concerning Bob at the moment were too much involved in anger at the Fennells and at Hayman to be quite coherent. She was pacing the gloom of the porte-cochere when an automobile swung out from among the trees and swept the shadows flying with its brushes of flame. As she directed the driver, from an open window behind her came a drunken shout; a burst of men's laughter followed the car as it rolled away.