He got down at his own door with a sudden resolve to find out with Jane and Coley Van Duyn. Mrs. Loring had wanted that match. It wasn’t any
of Loring’s choosing. She had wanted an old Dutch ancestry. She’d be getting it with Coley and that was about all she would get. Jane had been expected back with
the Ledyards from Virginia this morning. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for her father to step into the breach and repair the damage he had done.
In reply to his question of the man in the hall, he learned that Miss Loring had returned from the South during the morning, but that she had been in her room all
day. Henry K. Loring climbed the marble stairs and went along the landing to Mrs. Loring’s room. He found her lying on the divan, a handkerchief crumpled in her
hands, her face stained with tears. A look of resignation that was half a frown came into Loring’s face. Like many another man, big in his walks abroad, he lost
some stature in the presence of a tearful wife.
At his entrance she straightened and said irritably, “I thought you were never coming.”
“I was detained.” He looked at his watch. “Aren’t you going to dress?”
“No. I’m going to have my dinner brought up.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, what isn’t the matter? Jane, of course!”
“I can’t make her out at all. She came back from Warrenton this morning and went immediately to her room. I went in this afternoon again. She was looking miserably
unhappy, and when I began talking to her she burst into tears——”
“Nerves?” he queried.
“Oh, I don’t know. She hasn’t been herself for some time. She’s looking very badly.”