The truth is, father, if you must have it, you have acted like a
damned scoundrel."

James Bansemer glared at his son with murder in his eyes.

"I wouldn't have believed the other things they say of you if I
hadn't this to break down my faith. I heard this with my own ears.
It was too contemptible to forget in a lifetime. I did not come
here to discuss it with you. The thing is done. I came here to tell
you that I am going to leave Chicago. You WON'T go, so I will."
Bansemer still glared at him, but there was amazement mingling with
rage in his eyes. "I can't look a soul in the face. I am ashamed
to meet the Cables. Good Lord, I'm afraid even to think of Jane."

"I suppose you-you would marry her, like a fool, even now," muttered
the father.

"Marry her? Of course I would. I love her more than ever. I'd give
my life for her; I'd give my soul to ease the pain you have thrust
upon her. But it's over between us. Don't let our affairs worry
you. She has ended it. I don't blame her. How could she marry your
son? Why, do you know that I have hoped that I might not be your
son, after all? I almost prayed that my mother might have loved
someone else instead of you. God, I'd like the pain of knowing
that."

Bansemer leaned heavily against the radiator, gasping for breath.
Then he staggered to the couch and dropped upon it, moaning.

"Graydon, Graydon! Don't say that! Don't! I'll make everything