Then, in response to a question by Pope, Lorelei told him something of her experience.  “We’re up-state people, you know.  Mr. Bergman was looking for types, and I seemed to suit, so I got an engagement at once.  The newspapers began to mention me, and when he produced this show he had the part of the Fairy Princess written in for me.  It’s really very easy, and I don’t do much except wear the gowns and speak a few lines.”

“You’re one of the principals,” her mother said, chidingly.

“I suppose you’re ambitious?” Pope put in.

Again the mother answered.  “Indeed she is, and she’s bound to succeed.  Of course, she hasn’t had any experience to speak of, but there’s more than one manager that’s got his eye on her.”  The listener inwardly cringed.  “She could be starred easy, and she will be, too, in another season.”

“Then you must be studying hard, Miss Knight?”

Lorelei shook her head.

“Not even voice culture?”

“No.”

“Nor dancing?  Nor acting?”

“No.”

“She has so little time.  You’ve no idea how popular she is,” twittered Mrs. Knight.

Pope fancied the girl herself flushed under his inquiring eye; at any rate, her gaze wavered and she seemed vexed by her mother’s explanation.  He, too, resented Mrs. Knight’s share in the conversation.  He did not like the elder woman’s face, nor her voice, nor her manner.  She impressed him as another theatrical type with which he was familiar—­the stage mama.  He found himself marveling at the dissimilarity of the two women.

“Of course, a famous beauty does meet a lot of people,” he said.  “Tell me what you think of our nourishing little city and our New York men.”

But Lorelei raised a slender hand.

“Not for worlds.  Besides, you’re making fun of me now.  I was afraid to see you, and I’d feel terribly if you printed anything I really told you.  Good interviewers never do that.  They come and talk about nothing, then go away and put the most brilliant things into your mouth.  You are considered a very dangerous person, Mr. Pope.”

“You’re thinking of my story about that Demorest woman again,” he laughed.

“Is she really as bad as you described her?”

“I don’t know, never having met the lady.  I wouldn’t humiliate myself by a personal interview, so I built a story on the Broadway gossip.  Inasmuch as she goes in for notoriety, I gave her some of the best I had in stock.  Her photographer did the rest.”

The door curtains parted, and Lilas Lynn, a slim, black-eyed young woman, entered.  She greeted Pope cordially as she removed her hat and handed it to the woman who acted as dresser for the two occupants of the room.

“I’m late, as usual,” she said.  “But don’t leave on my account.”  She disappeared into the lavatory, and emerged a moment later in a combing-jacket; seating herself before her own mirrors, she dove into a cosmetic can and vigorously applied a priming coat to her features, while the dresser drew her hair back and secured it tightly with a wig-band.  “Lorelei’s got her nerve to talk to you after the panning you gave Demorest,” she continued.  “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to strike a defenseless star?”