from the grand hotel
where she had lived in luxury for so long, and where so many indelible
memories had been impressed upon her childish mind, with as little ado
as if they had been transient guests.

When the cab drew up at a railway station, Alora asked:

"Are we leaving town, then, father?"

"Yes," he replied; "I am returning to New York."

She felt a slight sinking of the heart, just then, but it was followed
by a sense of elation. The old life, in which her adored mother had
played so prominent a part, was being abandoned forever, and this
troubled her, she knew not why.

But since Mamma Tone had gone away the old life had lost its charm and
become dull and stupid. Lory was not sure she could be happier
elsewhere, but her crushed and dispirited nature responded to the
suggestion of change. It was interesting to have something different to
look forward to.

The man beside her was no more congenial than Gorham had been, but he
was her father; he was the guardian selected by her dead mother, and in
obeying his wishes she might find her future life more grateful than
had been the dreadful dreary months since Mamma Tone had left her.

Somehow, Jason Jones seemed uneasy in the presence of his daughter.
During the journey to New York he rode most of the time in the smoking
compartment, only appearing to take Alora to the diner for her meals.
The child was equally uncomfortable in her father's society and was
well pleased to be left so much alone.

So, with very little questioning or conversation on either side, father
and daughter came to their destination and Alora found herself
deposited in a small suite of rooms on the third floor of a grimy and
dingy house in East Sixty-seventh Street--one of a long row of similar
houses that were neither residences nor business establishments, but
hovered between the two. There were several little tin signs nailed
beside the entrance and Lory noticed that one of these read: "Jason
Jones. Studio. 3rd Floor." It was an old sign, scarcely legible, while
others beside it seemed bright and new, and when the girl had climbed
laboriously up the three flights and the artist had unlocked the door
at the head of the stairs, with a key which he took from his pocket,
she found everything about the rooms she entered as old and faded as
the sign on the door.

CHAPTER V
IN THE STUDIO

The fact that it was beginning to grow dark prevented Alora from
observing all the tawdriness o