He went out and bought the evening papers. The thought came to him
that Graydon had heard the stories and was deliberately staying
away from him. Perhaps the Cables had been talking to him.

"By Heaven," he grated as he paused in front of his home, "if
she's turned him against me I'll turn this city into anything but
a paradise for her. What a fool I've been to wait so long. I've
given her the chance to tell her side of the case first. She's made
the first impression. What could I have been thinking of? Droom
was right. I should have demanded less of her. A man is never too
old to be a fool about women. Oh, if she's turned that boy against
me, I'll---"

He did not finish the threat, but started off swiftly through the
night toward the Cable home. He had no especial object in view;
it was simply impossible for him to conquer the impulse to be near
his son. Like a thief he lurked about the street in the vicinity
of Cable's house, standing in the shadows, crossing and recrossing
the street many times, always watching the lighted windows with
hateful eyes. It was after eight o'clock and the night was damp
with the first breath of spring. There was a slight chill in the
air, but he did not feel it, although he was without an overcoat.

The lights on the second floor, he knew, were in Mrs. Cable's room.
In his mind's eye, he could see Graydon there with the others
listening to the story as it fell from prejudiced, condemning lips--the
pathetic, persuasive lips of a sick woman. He knew the effect on
the chivalrous nature of his son; he could feel the coldness that
took root in his boy's heart.