“I love him,” admitted Molly.
“Don’t you love your son, your poor little lost son?”
“Of course, Jordan! Don’t be stupid!... Of course I do, but I don’t know where he is.”
“And you’re making very little effort to find him, that’s evident. You’ve seen him, and I haven’t, yet I’d give half my life to get my hands on him.” He paused, drew a long breath, and proceeded, “I’ll warn you of this much, Molly. When I do find him—and find him I will—you won’t get a chance to even see him.”
“Oh, Jordan!” gasped Molly.
“That’s right,” he insisted, with an ugly shrug. “I tell you, Molly, I’ve always been impressed with the idea mothers cared more for their children than fathers, but I’m over that now since knowing you.” 225
“Oh, Jordan!” repeated Molly faintly once more.
Not heeding her appealing voice, he rushed on, “I’d be willing to strangle half the world for money to hire detectives to search for him. But as I’ve said before, I’d let Jinnie alone if I had him—and work for him with my two hands—if I had to dig graves.”
Molly turned her startled eyes upon the excited man. She had never known the depths of his nature.
“You make me tired,” he proceeded with sarcasm. “What in hell do you think Theodore could see in you when a girl like Jinnie cares for him?”