“Don’t go on my account,” urged Lilas.  “This room is like a subway station, and I’ve got so I could ‘change’ in Bryant Park at noon and never shock a policeman.”

“You won’t say anything mean about us, will you?” Mrs. Knight implored.  “In this business a girl’s reputation is all she has.”

“I promise.”  Pope held out his hand to Lorelei, and as she took it her lips parted in her ever-ready smile.  “Nice girl, that,” the critic remarked, as he and Slosson descended the stairs.

“Which one—­Lorelei, Lilas, or the female gorilla?”

“How did she come to choose that for a mother?” muttered Pope.

“One of Nature’s inscrutable mysteries.  But wait.  Have you seen brother Jim?”

“No.  Who’s he?”

“His mother’s son.  Need we say more?  He’s a great help to the family, for he keeps ’em from getting too proud over Lorelei.  He sells introductions to his sister.”

Campbell Pope’s exclamation was lost in a babble of voices as a bevy of “Swimming Girls” descended from the enchanted regions above and scurried out upon the stage.  Through the double curtain the orchestra could be faintly heard; a voice was crying, “Places.”

“Some Soul Kissers with this troupe, eh?” remarked Slosson, when the scampering figures had disappeared.

“Yes.  Bergman has made a fortune out of this kind of show.  He’s a friend to the ‘Tired Business Man.’”

“Speaking of the weary Wall Street workers, there will be a dozen of our ribbon-winners at that Hammon supper to-night.  Twelve ‘Bergman Beauties.’  Twelve; count ’em!  Any time you want to pull off a classy party for some of your bachelor friends let me know, and I’ll supply the dames—­at one hundred dollars a head—­and guarantee their manners.  They’re all trained to terrapin, and know how to pick the proper forks.”

“One hundred?  Last season a girl was lucky to get fifty dollars as a banquet favor; but the cost of living rises nightly.  No wonder Hammon’s against the income tax.”

“Yes, and that’s exclusive of the regulation favors.  There’s a good story in this party if you could get the men’s names.”

Pope’s thin lip curled, and he shook his head.

“I write theatrical stuff,” he said, shortly, “because I have to, not because I like to.  I try to keep it reasonably clean.”

Slosson was instantly apologetic.  “Oh, I don’t mean there’s anything wrong about this affair.  Hammon is entertaining a crowd of other steel men, and a stag supper is either dull or devilish, so he has invited a good-looking partner for each male guest.  It ’ll be thoroughly refined, and it’s being done every night.”

“I know it is.  Tell me, is Lorelei Knight a regular—­er—­ frequenter of these affairs?”

“Sure.  It’s part of the graft.”

“I see.”

“She has to piece out her salary like the other girls.  Why, her whole family is around her neck—­mother, brother, and father.  Old man Knight was run over by a taxi-cab last summer.  It didn’t hurt the machine, but he’s got a broken back, or something.  Too bad it wasn’t brother Jimmy.  You must meet him, by the way.  I never heard of Lorelei’s doing anything really—­bad.”