toplofty with her as it was. She'll take you."

"Take me, papa? Why shouldn't I stay with you? I'd much rather."

He tried to explain. It was clearly the moment at which to do it.

"I don't think you understand, dear, how entirely everything has gone to
smash. I shall probably--I may say, certainly--I shall have to--to go--"

"I do understand that. But it often happens--especially in this
country--that things go to smash, and then the people begin again. There
was Lulu Sentner's father. They lost everything they had--and she and
her sisters did dressmaking. But he borrowed money, and started in from
the beginning, and now they're very well off once more. It's the kind
of thing one hears of constantly--in this country."

"You couldn't hear of it in my case, dear, because--well, because I've
done all that. I've begun again, and begun again. I've used up all my
credit--all my chances. The things I counted on didn't come off. You
know that that happens sometimes, don't you?--without any one being to
blame at all?"

She nodded. "I think I've heard so."

"And now," he went on, eager that she should begin to see what he was
leading her up to--"and now I couldn't borrow a thousand dollars in all
Boston, unless it was from some one who gave it to me as a charity. I've
borrowed from every one--every penny for which I could offer
security--and I owe--I owe hundreds of thousands. Do you see now how bad
it is?"