Lilas laughed. "Why do you think that? I adore him, but we had an engagement and he broke it. Men are all selfish: the bigger they are the more selfish they become. They never do anything you don't make them." "He can't sacrifice his business for you." "Sacrifice! It's women who sacrifice themselves. D'you suppose any of those men we met last night would sacrifice himself for anything or anybody? Not much. They are the strong and the mighty. They got rich through robbery, and they're in the habit of taking whatever they want. They made their money out of the blood and suffering of thousands of poor people, so why--" "Poor people don't buy steel." "No; but they make it. I knew Mr. Wharton and the rest of them years ago, for I was born and raised in a furnace town. My father worked in a Bessemer plant--until he was killed. What I saw there made me an anarchist." Through the open window overlooking the alley came a sound of singing; two voices raised in doubtful harmony, one loud and strong, the other rasping, hoarse, and uncertain. Of all the girls that I adore, There's none so sweet as Sa-a-a-hall-ee. "Ouch! Who's that?" queried Lilas. "Bob Wharton and the Judge. Wharton's waiting to take me to supper." "Drunk, as usual, of course. Think of a fool like that with millions behind him--millions that his father wrung out of sweating, suffering foreigners like my father. He's squandering blood-money. That's what it is--blood-money." "You ARE bitter to-night. Is Mr. Hammon living on blood-money, too?" "Yes; he is." "Is that why you're planning to blackmail it out of him?" Lilas paused in her dressing and turned slowly, brows lifted. Her dark eyes met the blue ones unwaveringly. "Blackmail? What are you talking about?" Mrs. Croft went pale, and retired swiftly but noiselessly into the lavatory, closing the door behind her. "What did Max tell you over the 'phone?" asked Lilas, sharply. "Nothing." "Then where did you get--that? From Jim?" "Jim's pretty bad, I imagine, but he keeps his badness to himself. No. I've overheard you and Max talking." "Nonsense. We've never mentioned such a thing. The idea is absurd. I get mad at Jarvis--he's enough to madden anybody--perhaps I'm jealous, but blackmail! Why, you're out of your head." The girls had nearly finished dressing when a commotion sounded in the hall outside and Mrs. Croft, after investigation, reported that Robert Wharton had been forcibly expelled from a dressing-room. He could be heard gently apologizing and explaining that he was in quest of a Fairy Princess, whereupon Lorelei hastily locked her door. "That's the worst of these swells," observed Lilas, as she left. "They pay high and go anywhere they please. Bergman caters to them."