His sister was staring at him curiously.  She had voiced misgivings concerning his activities of late, but Jim had never satisfied her inquiries.  Now she asked:  “What is your share?”

The young man laughed a little uncomfortably.  “Forty per cent.  That’s usual.  If he’s going to gamble somewhere I might as well be in on it.”

Lorelei turned to her mother, but Mrs. Knight seemed puzzled at this turn of the conversation.  The girl’s next words, however, left no doubt as to her feelings.

“You’re a fine specimen, aren’t you?” Her lip curled; mother and son started at the bitterness of the tone.  “You’re in a fine business, too, blackmailing with Tony the Barber’s crowd, and capping for a jinny.”

“Who said anything about a jinny?”

“Ugh!  What a mess you’ve made of things.  Two years ago we were decent, and now—­” Lorelei’s voice broke; her eyes filmed over with tears.  “I’d give anything in the world if we were all back in Vale.  It took only two years of the city to spoil us.”

“Never mind the dramatics,” Jim growled.  “What’s your kick?  You’re on Broadway, ain’t you?”

“Yes, with a six-room flat on Amsterdam Avenue.  Pa is a cripple, you’re a crook, and I’m—­”

The mother broke in sharply.  “Jim is no crook.  You’ve no right to talk like this, after all we’ve done for you.”

“Sure.  Why did we come to New York, anyhow?” echoed the young man.  “What brought us here?  Ain’t you having the time of your young life—­parties, presents, joy-rides, every day?  Gee!  I wish I made the coin you do.”

“I hate it.”

“Ha!  Better try Vale again.  You’d end in a straight-jacket if you did.  You think you could go back, but you couldn’t—­nobody can after they’ve had a taste of the city.”

“It’s all wrong.  The whole thing is—­rotten.  Sometimes I hate myself.”  Lorelei choked.

Mrs. Knight spoke reprovingly.  “Don’t be silly, dear.  You know we did it all for you.  Peter didn’t want to leave home, and Jim had a good job, but we gave up everything to let you have a chance.  Yes, and we’ve all worked for you every minute since.  Do you think I like this stuffy flat, after that other house with the yard and the trees and the sunshine?  Peter lies in his room here, day in and day out, and never has a moment’s comfort or pleasure.  I don’t know a soul; I haven’t a friend or a neighbor.  But we’re not complaining.”  Mrs. Knight put added feeling into her words.  “We don’t want you to live the way we’ve had to live; we want you to be rich and to have things.  After all we’ve done; after all poor Peter has suffered—­”

“Don’t!” cried the girl, falteringly.  “I think of him every hour.”

“He isn’t the sort that complains.  I consider it very thoughtless of you to behave as you do and make it harder for us.”  Mrs. Knight sniffed and wiped her eyes, whereupon Lorelei went to her and hid her face upon her mother’s shoulder.