Henry K. Loring sat back in his machine, homeward bound, his head deep in the collar of his overcoat, his eyes under their shaggy brows peering out of the windows of the limousine. His heavy hands, one over the other, grasped the handle of his cane, which stood upright between his firmly planted feet. He looked out of the windows at the quickly changing scene, but his eyes saw nothing. There was a frown at his brow, his lips were drawn firmly together and a casual glance might have lent to the belief that the great operator was weighted with a more than usually heavy financial burden. But a closer inspection would have shown a slight upward twist of his lips and scarcely perceptible puckering of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. For a man whose business affairs had on that day been subjected to the searching inquisition that Mr. Gallatin had put them to, he seemed to be taking life rather good-naturedly.

To tell the truth he was thinking of the futile efforts of the elder Leuppold in trying to stem the tide which had set so strongly against him. He had gone over Mr. Gallatin’s evidence at the conference point by point, and the hours had only confirmed him in the realization that this young man, whom he had scorned, had given the oily and ingenious Leuppold a very unpleasant morning; for wriggle as Leuppold might, there had been no escaping the young man’s clear-headed statements, and the dangerous[324] nature of his evidence. Henry K. Loring was a good fighter, a shrewd judge of men, and the thing that most bothered him at the present moment was, not that he had been obliged to compromise the Sanborn case, but that he should have been so mistaken in the character and abilities of Philip Gallatin. He couldn’t understand it at all, and it hurt his pride in his own judgment. Was this sharp young man with the lean face, the keen eye and the quick incisive tones of confidence in himself, was this brilliant hard-working young lawyer who had been clever enough to outwit Henry Loring at his own game, was this Phil Gallatin, the club loafer, at whose name men had wagged their heads or shrugged their shoulders in pity or contempt? It didn’t seem possible. There was a mistake somewhere. Was this the young man who——?

He sat straight up suddenly as the thought came to him. By George! This was Jane’s young man! The fellow who had found Jane up in the woods! Who had followed her around and made love to her! The fellow Jane had been in love with until he, Loring, had opened her eyes and packed him out of the house about his business. That was too bad. Loring was sorry about that now. He had done Gallatin an injustice. Curious that he should have made such a mistake. He would have to rectify it somehow—with Jane.

What was the trouble? Oh, yes, a woman—that was what had turned Jane against him. A woman—well? It wasn’t the first time a man had been led off by a woman. What of it? The Gallatin with whom he had recently become acquainted wasn’t the kind of a fellow who would let any woman get the best of him. That was his own affair, anyway. He, Loring, would have to talk to Jane. Gallatin was all right. He had quit drinking, too, the[325] younger Leuppold had said. Any young fellow who could work up a case like that under cover and drive a man like Henry K. Loring to the wall was good enough for him! That was the kind of a man he wanted for Jane, just the kind of man to take up the game where he would leave it and hold the great Loring interests together. What did Jane want anyhow? She had loved Phil Gallatin once. Her mother had told him so. And now she had settled on Coleman Van Duyn! Hell!

He got down at his own door with a sudden resolve to find out just how things stood with Jane and Coley Van Duyn. Mrs. Loring had wanted that match. It wasn’t any of Loring’s choosing. She had wanted an old Dutch ancestry. She’d be getting it with Coley and that was about all she would get. Jane had been expected back with the Ledyards from Virginia this morning. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for her father to step into the breach and repair the damage he had done.

In reply to his question of the man in the hall, he learned that Miss Loring had returned from the South during the morning, but that she had been in her room all day. Henry K. Loring climbed the marble stairs and went along the landing to Mrs. Loring’s room. He found her lying on the divan, a handkerchief crumpled in her hands, her face stained with tears. A look of resignation that was half a frown came into Loring’s face. Like many another man, big in his walks abroad, he lost some stature in the presence of a tearful wife.

At his entrance she straightened and said irritably, “I thought you were never coming.”

“I was detained.” He looked at his watch. “Aren’t you going to dress?”

“No. I’m going to have my dinner brought up.”

“What’s the matter?”

[326]

“Oh, what isn’t the matter? Jane, of course!”

“Jane!”

“I can’t make her out at all. She came back from Warrenton this morning and went immediately to her room. I went in this afternoon again. She was looking miserably unhappy, and when I began talking to her she burst into tears——”

“Nerves?” he queried.

“Oh, I don’t know. She hasn’t been herself for some time. She’s looking very badly.”

“Yes, I noticed that. What do you think the trouble is?”

Mrs. Loring sank back with a sigh.

“Oh, I don’t know. I never did understand Jane, and I don’t suppose I ever shall. She says she isn’t going to anything this spring—that she wants to go abroad, away from everybody. And, finally, when I pressed her—she told me that she had given Coleman Van Duyn his congé. Think of it!”

The poor lady rattled on while Loring turned his back and walked the length of the room to hide a smile which grew suddenly at his lips. When she had finished speaking, he returned and questioned again.

“Why did she change her mind? Do you know?”

“I don’t think she has changed her mind. I don’t believe that she has ever cared for Mr. Van Duyn. It was all a mask to hide her real feelings. I’m sure she still loves that worthless Gallatin!”

Loring’s eyebrows lifted, his gaze roved and his lips were quickly compressed. Then his brows tangled.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“Everything makes me think it—everything—from the manner in which she first confessed her love for him to me to the curious way she has been treating Mr. Van[327] Duyn. He spoke about the matter only last week. Poor fellow! He’s beginning to look very badly. Jane hasn’t treated him fairly.”

“That depends. They were never engaged.”

Mrs. Loring raised herself on one elbow, her eyes searching her husband’s face in surprise.

“There was an understanding.”

“Between you and Van Duyn. Jane never consented.”

“Henry, I don’t understand you. You’ve let this thing go on without speaking. You approved——”

“No, I didn’t approve,” he said quickly. “I merely acquiesced.”

Mrs. Loring showed signs of inward agitation.

“Oh, I give her up. I’ve done the best I could. She has behaved very badly and I—I don’t know what to think of her.” She began sobbing into her handkerchief and renewed her familiar plaint. “I do the best I can for her—for you, but you’re always going against me—both of you. I’ve tried so hard this winter—kept going when my nerves were on the ragged edge of collapse, just because I thought it was my duty——”

“There, there, Mother, don’t be foolish,” said Loring soothingly. “Jane is young, too young to marry anyway. She’ll decide some day.”

“No. I know her. She makes up her mind to a thing and she’ll cling to it until death. She’s like you in that way. She would rather die than change. I ought to have realized that. If she can’t marry Phil Gallatin, she won’t marry any one. Phil Gallatin,” she cried, “the least desirable young man in New York, a man without a character, without friends, the last of a tainted stock, a fortune hunter, dissolute——”

He let her go on until she had exhausted both her[328] adjectives and her nerves while he listened thoughtfully, and then asked,

“You’re sure she still loves Mr. Gallatin?”

“I’ve tried to believe that she would forget him—that she would learn to care for Mr. Van Duyn. But she hasn’t. She has never been the same girl since you told her about that dreadful Jaffray woman. I’m afraid she’ll be sick—really sick. But I can’t do anything. What can I do?” The poor lady looked up plaintively, but her husband had walked to the window and was looking out into the Avenue.

“Humph!” he grunted. “Lovesick, eh? There ought to be a cure for that.”

“What?”

“Let her marry him.”

“Henry!” Mrs. Loring sat bolt upright on her couch, her eyes wide with incomprehension. “What do you mean?”

“What I say,” he returned calmly.

“That—Jane—should—marry Phil Gallatin?”

He nodded.

“You’re mad!” she said, getting up and facing him. “Stark mad! When you learned about them, you told me you’d rather see her dead than married to him.”

“Now I’d rather see her married to him than dead. It’s simple enough. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Am I taking leave of my senses—or are you?”

“Neither, Mother,” he went over to her, his huge frame towering above her small body as his mind towered over hers, and took her gently by the elbows. “I’ve made a mistake. So have you. But it’s not too late to mend it. I say that if Jane wants Phil Gallatin, she shall have him.”

“No, no. What has happened, Henry?”

[329]

“I’ve opened my eyes, that’s all, or rather Gallatin has opened them for me. I’m glad he did. And now I’m going to open yours. Phil Gallatin is a full-sized man. I found that out to-day—a man, every inch of one. I don’t care about his past. I wasn’t anything to brag about when I was a kid, and you know that, too. I didn’t amount to a hill of beans until my father died and I went up against it good and hard. I was down to bedrock, as Phil Gallatin was, until I got kicked once too often, and then I learned to kick back, and I’ve been kicking back ever since. I don’t care about Phil Gallatin’s past. That belongs to him. The only thing that matters about the man Jane marries is his future. That’s hers.”

Loring put his hands in his pockets and walked up and down the rug, his bulk, physical and mental, dominating Mrs. Loring’s tears.

“Listen to me. I’ve let you go on with your plans for Jane and I haven’t said anything, because I knew that when the time came for Jane to marry, your plans wouldn’t amount to much and mine wouldn’t either. Oh, I’ve been looking on. I’ve been watching this Van Duyn affair. I’ve never thought Jane would ever marry a nonentity like Van Duyn. If I had thought so, I guess I might have worried. But I didn’t worry because I never thought she did want to marry him. It seems I was right,” he chuckled.

He waited a moment as though expecting an interruption from his wife, but she made none, and only sat in hopeless uncertainty listening dumbly.

“For all her inexperience, Jane has an old head, Mother. This splendor we’re living in, her success in society, the flattery and compliments haven’t changed her any. And she’s not going to let anybody make a fool of her. She sees through people better than you do and[330] she doesn’t make many mistakes. I ought to have known she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Phil Gallatin if there hadn’t been something to him. I’ll give her credit for that——”

“What makes you think he’s worthy of her?” Mrs. Loring broke in. “You talk of his future. What future can there be for a man with a habit——”

“Wait!” he commanded. “As to that—he’s quit, do you understand? Quit it altogether. I’m just as sure of that as I am that Jane’s judgment was better than mine, so sure that I’m willing to stake Jane’s future o............