As his cab whirled him up Fifth Avenue, Ralph’s whole body throbbed with rage against the influences that had reduced him to such weakness.  Then, gradually, he saw that the weakness was innate in him.  He had been eloquent enough, in his free youth, against the conventions of his class; yet when the moment came to show his contempt for them they had mysteriously mastered him, deflecting his course like some hidden hereditary failing.  As he looked back it seemed as though even his great disaster had been conventionalized and sentimentalized by this inherited attitude:  that the thoughts he had thought about it were only those of generations of Dagonets, and that there had been nothing real and his own in his life but the foolish passion he had been trying so hard to think out of existence.

Halfway to the Malibran he changed his direction, and drove to the house of the lawyer he had consulted at the time of his divorce.  The lawyer had not yet come up town, and Ralph had a half hour of bitter meditation before the sound of a latch-key brought him to his feet.  The visit did not last long.  His host, after an affable greeting, listened without surprise to what he had to say, and when he had ended reminded him with somewhat ironic precision that, at the time of the divorce, he had asked for neither advice nor information—­had simply declared that he wanted to “turn his back on the whole business” (Ralph recognized the phrase as one of his grandfather’s), and, on hearing that in that case he had only to abstain from action, and was in no need of legal services, had gone away without farther enquiries.

“You led me to infer you had your reasons—­” the slighted counsellor concluded; and, in reply to Ralph’s breathless question, he subjoined, “Why, you see, the case is closed, and I don’t exactly know on what ground you can re-open it—­unless, of course, you can bring evidence showing that the irregularity of the mother’s life is such...”

“She’s going to marry again,” Ralph threw in.

“Indeed?  Well, that in itself can hardly be described as irregular.  In fact, in certain circumstances it might be construed as an advantage to the child.”

“Then I’m powerless?”

“Why—­unless there’s an ulterior motive—­through which pressure might be brought to bear.”

“You mean that the first thing to do is to find out what she’s up to?”

“Precisely.  Of course, if it should prove to be a genuine case of maternal feeling, I won’t conceal from you that the outlook’s bad.  At most, you could probably arrange to see your boy at stated intervals.”

To see his boy at stated intervals!  Ralph wondered how a sane man could sit there, looking responsible and efficient, and talk such rubbish...As he got up to go the lawyer detained him to add:  “Of course there’s no immediate cause for alarm.  It will take time to enforce the provision of the Dakota decree in New York, and till it’s done your son can’t be taken from you.  But there’s sure to be a lot of nasty talk in the papers; and you’re bound to lose in the end.”