Lorelei was not quite sure that Bob would consent to dine in the modest little home, but under the circumstances idleness was maddening, so she fell to work.  It seemed very odd, when she thought of it, for the bride of a millionaire to prepare a meal with her own hands, but anything was preferable to dining out, in her present frame of mind.  This was very different from what she had expected, but—­everything was different.  Once the marriage had become known to Bob’s people and he had thoroughly sobered down, once she had withdrawn from the cast of the Revue, their real life would begin.

Bob was pale and a bit unsteady when he arrived, but Lorelei saw that he suffered only from the effects of his previous debauch.  He was extremely self-conscious and uneasy in her presence, though he kissed her with a brave show of confidence.

“I galloped into the bank just as they slammed the doors,” he explained, “but my bookkeeping is rotten.”

“Yes?”

“My accounts somehow never tally with theirs, and they always explain very patiently—­it’s a patient bank—­that they use adding-machines.  Beastly nuisance, this constant figuring, especially when you never hit the right answer.  But a man can’t expect to compete with one of those mechanical contraptions.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you have overdrawn?”

“Exactly.  But I drew against the old gentleman, as usual, so on with the dance.  What’s the—­er—­idea of the apron?”

“It’s nearly dinner-time.”

Bob’s eyes opened with surprise.  “Why, we’re going to
Delmonico’s.”

“I’d—­rather do this if you don’t mind.”  She eyed him appealingly.  “I don’t feel equal to going out to-night.  I’m—­afraid.”

“Don’t you keep a maid?” he inquired.

“Where would I keep her—­in the ice-box?” Lorelei smiled faintly.

His glance brightened with admiration.  “Well, you look stunning in that get-up, and I’d hate to see you change it.  Do you mean to say you can cook?”

“Not well, but I can fry almost anything.  Mother has a maid.  I couldn’t afford two.”

“I love fried things,” he assured her, with a twinkle.  “And to think you’re going to cook for me!  That’s an experience for both of us.  Let’s have some fried roast beef and fried corn on the cob with fried salad and cheese—­”

“Don’t tease,” she begged, uncertainly.  “I hardly know what I’m doing, and I thought this would keep me busy until theater-time.”

He extended a hand timidly and patted her arm, saying with unexpected gentleness: 

“Please don’t worry.  I supposed we’d dine in public, but if you like this better, so do I. When we pull ourselves together and get settled a bit we’ll make our plans for the future.  At present I’m still in a daze.  It was a terrible night for all of us.  When I think of it I’m sure it must have been a dream.  I saw Merkle; he’s perfectly cold and matter-of-fact