“To-night. I have been waiting.”
“Papa—I will fetch him,” she breathed.
His hand gripped hers, his eyes feasted on her face.
“No, I can wait a while.”
She felt that she must go on speaking or—what? Fall into his arms? Throw herself at his feet?
“I hope—I hope you had a pleasant journey?”
“Very! It snowed all the time. I have been ten months on the road.”
Her eyes drooped.
“Have—have you come to stay?” she faltered.
“No,” he said; “I am going on to the South.”