At that instant the party of six hurriedly arose to leave the place. The tall man with the grey hair--the handsomest man of all--was staring boldly at Jane's averted face, now red with consciousness. As he passed her in going out of the room, his look grew more insistent. She glanced up and a faint smile crossed his face.
"Devilish handsome girl," he remarked to the man behind him and then he passed out of her sight, perhaps forever.
"The woman with him?" cried Jane, her eyes following the beautiful creature at his side, "is she my mother?"
"No," said Graydon, averting his eyes to avoid her expression; "she is his wife."
Droom waited until the party was out of the restaurant before uttering a word.
"Inside of two years I have pointed out two fathers to their children--yours and his, Jane. Your mothers are dead. There isn't much choice as to fathers. If I were you, I'd say I had the better of the bargain. Take an old man's advice, both of you, and let bygones be bygones. Start life now, just as if nothing had happened before, and get every atom of happiness out of it that you can. Don't you two pay for the sins of your fathers."
"I couldn't live in New York if he were living here," murmured Jane.
"Hey, waiter, your bill," said Droom, with sudden harshness.
It was snowing and the wind was blowing a gale when they emerged from the place. Jane hung heavily upon Graydon's arm; he could feel that she was sobbing. He did not dare to look into her face, but he felt something cruelly triumphant surging in his heart. Elias Droom waited until their cab came up. Then he offered his hand to both, hesitatingly, even timidly.
"Good-night. Be happy. There is nothing else left for you but that. Graydon, when you write to your father, give him my love."