He had nearly finished his meal when she returned again.
"I've brought you these," she said, not without a touch of shyness, against which she struggled by making her tone as commonplace as possible. "I shall bring you more things by degrees."
On a chair beside that on which he was sitting she laid a pair of slippers, a pair of socks, a shirt, a collar, and a tie.
He jumped up hastily, less in surprise than in confusion.
"I can't take anything of Judge Wayne's—" he began to stammer; but she interrupted him.
"I understand your feelings about that," she said, simply. "They're not Judge Wayne's; they were my father's. I have plenty more."
In his relief at finding she was not Wayne's daughter he spoke awkwardly.
"Your father? Is he—dead?"
"Yes; he's dead. You needn't be afraid to take the things. He would have liked to help a man—in your position."
"In my position? Then you know—who I am?"