In the doorway she hesitated an instant, favoring the group with
her shadowy, impersonal smile. In her gaze there was a faint
inquiry, for it was plain that she had interrupted a serious
discussion. She came forward and rested a hand upon her father's
thinly haired bullet-head. Peter reached up and took it in his own
moist palm.

"We were just talking about you," he said.

"Yes?" The smile remained as the girl's touch lingered.

"Your ma thinks I'd better accept that New York offer on your
account."

"On mine? I don't understand."

Peter stroked the hand in his clasp, and his weak, upturned face
was wrinkled with apprehension. "She thinks you should see the
world and--make something of yourself."

"That would be nice." Lorelei's lips were still parted as she
turned toward her mother in some bewilderment.

"You'd like the city, wouldn't you?" Mrs. Knight inquired.

"Why, yes; I suppose so."

"We're poor--poorer than we've ever been. Jim will have to work,
and so will you."