"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. You can have no shecrets from me. . P. ” “You haven’t answered my question.
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