A man couldn’t oppose his claims and advantages to a need like that!
Besides—it was borne in upon Baron more and more strongly—there was a very serious question as to the child’s best interests.
She was an actress, born and bred, and some day she would surely hear the call of the theatre. Not in the near future certainly. Baron couldn’t bear to associate children and the stage. But in a few years....
And if she were ever to return to the profession which was her birthright, it was Thornburg she would need, and not the Barons.
Moreover, Thornburg was a wealthy man, and childless. He was now ready to take the child into his home as his own. There could be only one outcome to such an arrangement—an outcome wholly in Bonnie May’s favor.
Therefore, his—Baron’s—right to keep the child was of the shakiest possible nature.
And having reached these two conclusions, dwelling now upon the one and now upon the other, Baron extinguished his light and went to bed.
In the morning at about seven o’clock, while he was standing before the glass with a military hair-brush in his hand, his problem was solved for him in a flash. He stood with the brush suspended in air. A light leaped into his eyes.
“How simple!” he exclaimed. “The very way out of it. The only way.”