"I have something better than an idea, Fox; I have almost a hope."
He repeated her words thoughtfully, "almost a hope," and fixed his eyes upon her face; but he could not read there what he desired to read.
"Have you given any consideration," he asked, "to your circumstances? Do you think that any man would receive you--as you are?"
It was a cruel taunt, and she felt it.
"Yes, I have thought of it," she answered sadly, "and it is a deep trouble to me. If I dared to make an appeal to you----"
"Make it," he said, during the pause that ensued.
"I am your sister, Fox. I have done nothing to disgrace you--nothing of which I should be ashamed. If Mr. Dixon tells me he has a home ready for me, how can I go to him--as I am?"
She looked down at her feet, she spread out her hands piteously, and the tears started to her eyes.
"Well?"
"I think," she said, in an imploring tone, "if father could have seen the future he would have made some provision for me, ever so little, that would enable me to enter a home of my own in a creditable manner."