"In a month, Mr. Jenison, I will be of age. I am sure that you, having been such a friend to him, will be glad to know that I am going to him. If he wants me, I shall stay with him."
"You—you will leave your mother?" he demanded, unconsciously drawing back in his chair.
"Just because my mother cast him out is no reason why I should do likewise. I love my father—I adore him! What did you say?"
Under his breath he had uttered the word "God!"
"I beg your pardon," he said hurriedly He felt like cursing her. "I just happened to think of something," he explained.
"I am sorry to have bored you. I thought you'd like to know about father after all these years. Pray forgive me."
"You intimated awhile ago that perhaps he could tell me where Mrs. Braddock is living, he said. His forehead was covered with moisture.
"I've no doubt he knows, Mr. Jenison. She is living in New York."
She was perfectly calm and matter-of-fact about it. If there was more that she could have told him, her inscrutable smile signified plainly that it should be left for him to find out for himself.
He looked into her eyes for a moment without speaking. A feeling of loathing such as he had never known before welled up in his heart against this girl. He hated the sight of her face. He almost imagined he could see its soft, warm tints changing subtly into the gray, putty-like complexion of his oldtime enemy. A beastly jowl seemed suddenly to spread from her smooth round cheek and sag heavy over her neck; her smile, bewitching to other eyes than his, took on a mysterious breadth that horrified him. He was seeing visions. He knew that there was no change such as his mind pictured, and yet he could not cast out the illusion. He arose abruptly, fearful that she might see the repugnance in his eyes. He could not sit there an instant longer, facing this reminder of Bob Grand. Something atavistic in his nature urged him to strike out with all his strength at the fantastic face that forced itself upon him.