He said he'd speak to
Angela--and he did. I waited in the hall downstairs. Old Clarence
didn't have the courage to come back himself. A footman brought down
word that Mrs. Mortimer could not see Mr. Hooper. She was not at home
to Mr. Hooper, and--never would be. That was what her servant was
obliged to tell me. So I went away. Then I tried Elizabeth. She lives
in one of those fifteen thousand dollar a year apartments on Park
Avenue. She has three lovely children. They are my grand-children, you
know, Tom. I saw them in the automobile as I came out of the building
and went my way after Elizabeth Bransone had told me to my face--I
managed to get in to see her--had told me that I was a sight, a
disgrace, that she couldn't bear to look at me, and that I had better
clear out before her husband came in. My own daughter, Tom, my own
flesh and blood. She informed me that provision would be made for me,
but she made it very plain--damnably plain--that I was never to bother
her again. So I went away from Elizabeth's. There was only one of 'em
left, and I hated to tackle him worse than either of the girls.
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