“Of course not.  I never dreamed of such a spree.”

“Well, that will be lesson number two.  Can you ride?”

“Not well.”

“Must know how to ride—­that’s number three, and very important.  I’ll get you some horses when we return.  We’ll spend our mornings at Durland’s for a while, and I’ll teach you to play polo, too.  All the girls are going in for it lately.  You’ll need an electric motor, I suppose, for calling and shopping—­they’re making some stunning bodies in that wicker effect.  Now, what’s your favorite jewel?  I haven’t had time to get your ring yet—­this whole day was upside down.  Everything had closed before I opened up, but to-morrow we’ll paw through Tiffany’s stock, and you can choose what you like.  I’m going to select a black-opal set for you—­they’re the newest thing and the price is scandalous.”  He paused, eying her curiously, then with a change of tone inquired, “Say, are you in mourning for somebody?”

“Why, no.”

“You don’t seem to care for all these things I’ve bought.”

Lorelei laughed spontaneously, for the first time during the long day.  “Of course I care.  But—­where is the money coming from?  You haven’t a dollar.”

“My dear, so long as the Western Union lasts you’ll never see a wrinkle on my brow.  We’ll begin by destroying everything you own—­ hats, gowns, jewelry—­then we’ll start at the beginning.”

Just then the apartment bell rang.  Bob went to the door.  He returned with his father at his heels.  Mr. Wharton tramped in grimly, nodded at his daughter-in-law, who had risen at the first sound of his voice, then ran his eyes swiftly over the surroundings.

“I hear you’ve made a fool of yourself again,” he began, showing his teeth in a faint smile.  “Have you given up your apartment at the Charlevoix?”

“Not yet,” said Bob.  “We’re considering a suite at the Ritz for a few days.”

“Indeed.  You’re going back to the Charlevoix to-night.”

Lorelei started.  She had expected opposition, but was unprepared for anything so blunt and business-like.  “I think you and Bob can talk more freely if I leave you alone,” she said.

Hannibal Wharton replied shortly:  “No, don’t leave.  I’ll talk freer with you here.”

It appeared, however, that Robert stood in no awe of his father’s anger; he said lightly: 

“They never come back, dad.  I’m a regular married man.  Lorelei is my royal consort, my yoke-mate, my rib.  We’ll have to scratch the Charlevoix.”

This levity left the caller unmoved; to Lorelei he explained: 

“I want no notoriety, so all we need talk about is terms.  You’ll fare better by dealing directly with me than through lawyers—­I’ll fight a lawsuit—­so let’s get down to business.  You should realize, however, that these settlements are never as large as they’re advertised.  I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars and stand the costs of the divorce proceedings.”