The meal was interrupted regularly each time the music played, for dancing was more than a fad in this set--it was a serious business with which nothing was allowed to interfere. The bulky widow was invariably the first upon her feet, and Miss Wyeth followed closely, yielding herself limply to the arms of first one, then another of the youthful coterie. She held her slashed gown high, and in the more fanciful extravagances of the dance she displayed a slender limb to the knee. She was imperturbable, unenthusiastic, utterly untiring. The hostess, because of her brawn, made harder work of the exercise; but years of strenuous reducing had hardened her muscles, and she possessed the endurance of a bear. Once the meal had dragged itself to a conclusion, there began the customary round of the dancing-places--this being the popular conception of a lark--and Lorelei allowed herself to be bundled in and out of the Thompson-Bellaire theater-car. There was considerable drinking, Bergman, who devoted himself assiduously to his employee, showing more effect from it than the others. He utterly refused to take her home. As the night wore on he became more and more offensive; he grew coarse in a sly, tentative manner, as if feeling his ground. He changed the manner of his dancing, also, until Lorelei could no longer tolerate him. "Getting tired, my dear?" he queried, when she declined to join the whirling throng. "Yes. I want to go." "All right." He leered at her and nodded. "Still living on Amsterdam Avenue?" "No. I've moved to the Elegancia." "So? How does mother like it?" "She's--I'm living alone." Bergman started, his eyes brightened. "Ah! Then you've come to your senses finally. I thought you would. Let's finish this dance, anyhow." "I don't want to be seen dancing too much with you." "Why?" "You understand why, Mr. Bergman." She eyed him coolly. The lines of his sinister face, loosened and sagging slightly from drink, deepened for an instant. "Let them talk. I can do more for you than Merkle can." "Merkle?" Her expression did not change. "Now don't let's deceive each other." He had never found it necessary to cultivate patience in his dealings with women, and when she pretended ignorance of his meaning he flared out, half in weariness, half in anger: "Oh, play your game with strangers, but don't put me off. Weren't you caught with him at the Chateau? Hasn't he fixed you up at the Elegancia? Well, then--" "You needn't finish. I'm going home now."