No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. ” There was genuine interest in her eyes now. Don’t you know I disinherited the rogue?’ ‘This we knew, milor’,’ said Valade. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. I know now that I was mistaken. ” She raked into the fire with the poker. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him.
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