"No!" almost shouted James Bansemer. "I won't have it! For my sake,
Graydon, don't ever come here again. Don't shame me more than you
have to-day. I'll never forget this hour. Stay away and you'll be
doing me the greatest kindness in the world. Promise me, boy!"

"I can't promise that, dad. It isn't a sane request. I am your
son--"

"My God, boy, don't you see that I can't bear to look at you through
these bars? Go! Please go! Good-bye! Write to me, but don't come
here again. Don't! It's only a few years."

He turned away abruptly, his shoulder drawn upward as if in pain,
and Graydon left the place, weakened and sick at heart.

Jane and Droom were awaiting him in an outer office. The former
looked into his eyes searchingly, tenderly.

"I'm so sorry, Graydon," she said as she took his hand in hers.

All the way back to Chicago Elias Droom sat and watched them from
under lowered brows, wondering why it was that he felt so much
lonelier than he ever had felt before,--wondering, too, in a vague
sort of way, why he was not able to exult, after all.