"No, I'm not," replied Lester, "but I might be. I might marry her."

"Impossible!" exclaimed his father vigorously. "I can't believe it. I can't believe a man of your intelligence would do a thing like that, Lester.

Where is your judgment? Why, you've lived in open adultery with her for

years, and now you talk of marrying her. Why, in heaven's name, if you

were going to do anything like that, didn't you do it in the first place?

Disgrace your parents, break your mother's heart, injure the business,

become a public scandal, and then marry the cause of it? I don't believe

it."

Old Archibald got up.

"Don't get excited, father," said Lester quickly. "We won't get anywhere that way. I say I might marry her. She's not a bad woman, and I wish you

wouldn't talk about her as you do. You've never seen her. You know

nothing about her.

"I know enough," insisted old Archibald, determinedly. "I know that no good woman would act as she has done. Why, man, she's after your

money. What else could she want? It's as plain as the nose on your face."

"Father," said Lester, his voice lowering ominously, "why do you talk like that? You never saw the woman. You wouldn't know her from Adam's off

ox. Louise comes down here and gives an excited report, and you people

swallow it whole. She isn't as bad as you think she is, and I wouldn't use the language you're using about her if I were you. You're doing a good

woman an injustice, and you won't, for some reason, be fair."

"Fair! Fair!" interrupted Archibald. "Talk about being fair. Is it fair to me, to your family, to your dead mother to take a woman of the streets and

live with her? Is it—"

"Stop now, father," exclaimed Lester, putting up his hand. "I warn you. I won't listen to talk like that. You're talking about the woman that I'm

living with—that I may marry. I love you, but I won't have you saying

things that aren't so. She isn't a woman of the streets. You know, as well as you know anything, that I wouldn't take up with a woman of that kind.

We'll have to discuss this in a calmer mood, or I won't stay here. I'm

sorry. I'm awfully sorry. But I won't listen to any such language as that."

Old Archibald quieted himself. In spite of his opposition, he respected his son's point of view. He sat back in his chair and stared at the floor. "How was he to handle this thing?" he asked himself.

"Are you living in the same place?" he finally inquired.

"No, we've moved out to Hyde Park. I've taken a house out there."

"I hear there's a child. Is that yours?"

"No."

"Have you any children of your own?"

"No."

"Well, that's a God's blessing."

Lester merely scratched his chin.

"And you insist you will marry her?" Archibald went on.

"I didn't say that," replied his son. "I said I might."

"Might! Might!" exclaimed his father, his anger bubbling again. "What a tragedy! You with your prospects! Your outlook! How do you suppose I

can seriously contemplate entrusting any share of my fortune to a man

who has so little regard for what the world considers as right and proper?

Why, Lester, this carriage business, your family, your personal reputation appear to be as nothing at all to you. I can't understand what has

happened to your pride. It seems like some wild, impossible fancy."

"It's pretty hard to explain, father, and I can't do it very well. I simply know that I'm in this affair, and that I'm bound to see it through. It may come out all right. I may not marry her—I may. I'm not prepared now to

say what I'll do. You'll have to wait. I'll do the best I can."

Old Archibald merely shook his head disapprovingly.

"You've made a bad mess of this, Lester," he said finally. "Surely you have. But I suppose you are determined to go your way. Nothing that I

have said appears to move you."

"Not now, father. I'm sorry."

"Well, I warn you, then, that, unless you show some consideration for the dignity of your family and the honour of your position it will make a

difference in my will. I can't go on countenancing this thing, and not be a party to it morally and every other way. I won't do it. You can leave her, or you can marry her. You certainly ought to do one or the other. If you

leave her, everything will be all right. You can make any provision for her you like. I have no objection to that. I'll gladly pay whatever you agree to.

You will share with the rest of the children, just as I had planned. If you marry her it will make a difference. Now do as you please. But don't

blame me. I love you. I'm your father. I'm doing what I think is my

bounden duty. Now you think that over and let me know."

Lester sighed. He saw how hopeless this argument was. He felt that his

father probably meant what he said, but how could he leave Jennie, and

justify himself to himself? Would his father really cut him off? Surely

not. The old gentleman loved him even now—he could see it. Lester felt

troubled and distressed; this attempt at coercion irritated him. The idea—

he, Lester Kane, being made to do such a thing—to throw Jennie down.

He stared at the floor.

Old Archibald saw that he had let fly a telling bullet.

"Well," said Lester finally, "there's no use of our discussing it any further now—that's certain, isn't it? I can't say what I'll do. I'll have to take time and think. I can't decide this offhand."

The two looked at each other. Lester was sorry for the world's attitude and for his father's keen feeling about the affair. Kane senior was sorry for his son, but he was determined to see the thing through. He wasn't sure

whether he had converted Lester or not, but he was hopeful. Maybe he

would come around yet.

"Good-bye, father," said Lester, holding out his hand. "I think I'll try and make that two-ten train. There isn't anything else you wanted to see me

about?"

"No."

The old man sat there after Lester had gone, thinking deeply. What a

twisted career! What an end to great possibilities? What a foolhardy

persistence in evil and error! He shook his head. Robert was wiser. He

was the one to control a business. He was cool and conservative. If Lester were only like that. He thought and thought. It was a long time before he stirred. And still, in the bottom of his heart, his erring son continued to appeal to him.

CHAPTER XL

Lester returned to Chicago. He realised that he had offended his father

seriously, how seriously he could not say. In all his personal relations

with old Archibald he had never seen him so worked up. But even now

Lester did not feel that the breach was irreparable; he hardly realised that it was necessary for him to act decisively if he hoped to retain his father's affection and confidence. As for the world at large, what did it matter how much people talked or what they said. He was big enough to stand alone.

But was he? People turn so quickly from weakness or the shadow of it. To

get away from failure—even the mere suspicion of it—that seems to be a

subconscious feeling with the average man and woman; we all avoid non-

success as though we fear that it may prove contagious. Lester was soon

to feel the force of this prejudice.

One day Lester happened to run across Berry Dodge, the millionaire head