Our meeting this morning was so brief and so public that I was prevented from speaking to you as freely as I would have liked. I’ve done you a wrong—an injustice, and I want to do what I can to set the matter right, with respect to your future relations with me and with my family. I have already done what I can and I am sure that both Mrs. Loring and my daughter will gladly welcome you as a guest to our house whenever you may call.
I hope this will be soon, Mr. Gallatin. I only wanted to put myself on record with you that you may be assured that there will be no further misunderstandings on your part of our intentions toward you.
Very sincerely yours,
Henry K. Loring.
The note written, he sealed it and rang for Hastings.
“Have this note delivered at once. Try the Cosmos Club and, if Mr. Gallatin is not there, find him.”
This burden off his broad shoulders, Loring smiled, turned on his reading lamp, took some newly acquired snuff boxes out of a cabinet and under his magnifying glass, proceeded to enjoy them. It was in the midst of this pleasant occupation that some time later, he was interrupted by the entrance of his daughter. She was dressed in a pale blue lounging robe, and her bedroom slippers made no sound on the heavy floor covering, but the rustle of her draperies caused him to look up.
“Hello, Jane!” he said, kissing her. “Glad to see you, child. You slipped in like a ghost. Feeling any better?”
“Oh, I’m all right,” she said wearily. “Mother said you wanted to see me.”
Loring put down his magnifying glass and turned toward her.