“I did what I thought was right. I’d probably do the same thing again under similar circumstances. I—I didn’t think Mr. Gallatin the kind of man I wanted for you.”
She lay back in her chair and looked into the fire, but said nothing. Loring came close to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“You loved him, Jane?”
She didn’t reply.
“You still love him, daughter?”
Her head moved slowly from side to side.
“No,” she muttered, stiflingly, “no, no.”
Loring smiled down at the top of her head.
“Why should you deny it, Jane? What would you say if I acknowledged that I had made a mistake in judgment, that you were right after all, that Phil Gallatin is not the man I thought him, that he’s worthy in every way of your regard, that of all the young men I’ve met in New York in business or out of it, he is the one man I would rather have marry my daughter?”
She had risen and was leaning toward him, pale and trembling.