“I just came from the theater,” he explained, “but it was dark.  Has the show failed, dearie?” He tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away.  “Come!  Must have my little kiss,” he insisted; then as she rose and moved away, leaving him swaying in his tracks, he began gravely to unroll an odd, thin package that resembled a tennis-racket.  Removing a soiled white wrapping, then an inner layer of oiled paper, he exposed the sad remains of what had been an elaborate bouquet of double English violets fringed with gardenias.  He stared at the flowers in some bewilderment.

“Must have sat on ’em,” he opined at last; then he cried brightly:  “Ha!  Pressed flowers!  I’m full of old-fashioned sentiment.”  After studying Lorelei’s unsmiling face his tone altered.  “Oh, I know!  I slipped, but it couldn’t be helped.  Nature insisted, and I yielded gracefully, but no harm done, none whatever.  This isn’t a defeat, my dear; it’s a victory.  I licked the demon rum and proved myself a man of iron.  I subjugated the cohorts of General Benjamin Booze, then I signed a treaty of peace, and there was no bad blood on either side.”  After an uncomfortable pause, during which he vainly waited for her to speak, he explained more fully:  “My dear, nothing is absolute!  Life is a series of compromises.  Have a heart.  Would you rob the distiller of his livelihood?  Think of the struggling young brewer with a family.  Could you take the bread from the mouths of his little ones?  The president of a bottling-works may be a Christian; he may have a sick wife.  Remember the boys that work in the hop-fields and the joyous peasant girls of France.  Moderation is the thing.  Live and let live.”

Lorelei nodded.  “Exactly!  We shall live as we choose, only, of course, we can’t live together after this.”  Then her disgust burst its control, and she demanded, bitterly, “Haven’t you any strength whatever?  Haven’t you any balance, Bob?”

He grinned at her cheerfully.  “I should say I had.  I walked a fence on the way home just to prove it; and I scarcely wabbled.  Balance!  Strength!  Why, you ought to see Jim.  They had to carry him.”

“Jim?  Was—­Jim with you?”

“In spirit, yes; in body—­only for a time.  For a brief while we went gaily, hand in hand, then Jim lagged.  He’s a nice boy, but weak; he falters beneath a load; and, as for pool, why, I’ve slept on pool-tables, so naturally I know the angles better than he.  Ha! that’s a funny line, isn’t it?  I know the angles of pool-tables because I’ve slept on ’em, see?  Don’t hurry; I’ll wait for you.  Even an ‘act’ like mine needs applause.”

But Lorelei was in no laughing mood.  She questioned Bob searchingly and soon learned of Jim’s visits, of the flask, of the pool games.  When she understood it all her eyes were glowing, but she found nothing to say.  At last she got Bob to bed, then lay down beside him and stared into the darkness through many wakeful hours.