Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world.
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