himself."

Mr. Wharton smiled sneeringly. "Admirable! I begin to see that
you're more than a pretty woman. Get his sympathy; it's good
business. Now he'll think he must act the man. But that will wear
off. And understand this: you can't graft off me. You and your
family are due for a great disappointment. Bob hasn't anything,
and he won't have until I die, but I'm good for thirty years yet.
I'm not going to disinherit him. I'm merely going to wait until
you both get tired. Take my word for it, poverty is the most
tiresome thing in the world."

"We can manage," said Lorelei.

"You speak for yourself, but he can't make a living--unless he has
something in him that I never discovered. I fear you'll find him
rather a heavy burden."

Throughout the interview Mr. Wharton had kept his temper quite
perfectly, and his coolness at this moment argued a greater fixity
of purpose than might have been inferred from a display of rage.
He made a final appeal to his son: "Can't you see that it won't do
at all, Bob? I won't stand parasites, unless they're my own.
Either have done with the matter and let me pay the charges or--go
through to the bitter finish on your own feet. She's supporting
three loafers; I dare say she can take care of another, but it
isn't quite right to put it upon her--she's sure to weary of it
sometime. You'll notice I've said nothing about your mother so
far, but--she's with me in this. I'll be in the city for several
days, and I'd like to have you return to Pittsburg with me when I