``Is she one
of THE Gordons?''
``Mercy, no!'' cried Martha Galland. ``She simply took the name
of Gordon--that is, her father did. He was a Russian peasant--a
Jew. And he fell in love with a girl who was of noble family--a
princess, I think.''
``Princess doesn't mean much in Russia,'' said Jane sourly.
``Anyhow, they ran away to this country. And he worked in the
rolling mill here--and they both died-- and Selma became a
factory girl--and then took to writing for the New Day--that's
Victor Dorn's paper, you know.''
``How romantic,'' said Jane sarcastically. ``And now Victor
Dorn's in love with her?''
``I didn't say that,'' replied Martha, with a scandal-
smile.
Jane Hastings went to the window and gazed out into the garden.
Martha resumed her habitual warm day existence--sat rocking
gently and fanning herself and looking leisurely about the room.
Presently she said:
``Jane, why don't you marry Davy Hull?''
No answer.
``He's got an independent income--so there's no question of his
marrying for money. And there isn't any family anywhere that's
better than his--mighty few as good. And he's DEAD in love with
you, Jen.''
With her back still turned Jane snapped, ``I'd rather marry
Victor Dorn.''
``What OUTRAGEOUS things you do say!'' cried Martha.
``I envy that black Jewess--that--what's her name? --that Selma
Gordon.''
``You don't even know them,'' said Martha.
Jane wheeled round with a strange laugh.
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