unattractive house and its furnishings, but Lorelei was in violent
opposition to everything about her. She wore her beauty
unconsciously, too, as a princess wears the purple of her rank.
Neither in speech nor in look did she show a trace of her father's
fatuous commonplaceness, and she gave no sign of her mother's
coldly calculating disposition. Equally the girl differed from her
brother, for Jim was anemic, underdeveloped, sallow; his only mark
of distinction being his bright and impudent eye, while she was
full-blooded, healthy, and clean. Splendidly distinctive, from her
crown of warm amber hair to her shapely, slender feet, it seemed
that all the hopes, all the aspirations, all the longings of
bygone generations of Knights had flowered in her. As muddy waters
purify themselves in running, so had the Knight blood, coming
through unpleasant channels, finally clarified and sweetened
itself in this girl. In the color of her eyes she resembled
neither parent; Mrs. Knight's were close-set and hard; Peter's
shallow, indefinite, weak. Lorelei's were limpid and of a twilight
blue. Her single paternal inheritance was a smile perhaps a trifle
too ready and too meaningless. Yet it was a pleasant smile,
indicative of a disposition toward courtesy, if not self-
depreciation.

But there all resemblance ceased. Lorelei Knight was mysteriously
different from her kin; she might almost have sprung from a
different strain, and except as one of those "throwbacks" which
sometimes occur in a mediocre family, when an exotic offspring
blooms like a delicate blossom in a bed of weeds, she was
inexplicable. Simple living had made her strong, yet she remained
exquisite; behind a natural and a deep reserve she was vibrant
with youth and spirits.