Elizabeth Cornish looked away, as though she hesitated to touch on the subject, or as though it were too unimportant to be referred to at length.
"In brief, I saw from a hotel window Black Jack, his father, shot down in the street; heard about the infant son he left, and adopted the child—on a bet with my brother. To see if blood would tell or if I could make him a fine man."
She paused.
"My brother won the bet!"
And her smile was a wonderful thing, so perfectly did it mask her pain.
"And, of course, I sent Terry away. I have forgotten him, really. Just a bad experiment."
Kate Pollard flushed.
"You'll never forget him," she said firmly. "You think of him every day!"
The elder woman started and looked sharply at her visitor. Then she dismissed the idea with a shrug.
"That's absurd. Why should I think of him?"