"But where? You do not look as though you had any settled lodging. We can find you a room here for awhile. You have not told me yet how it is that you are alive after all."
He pushed back a mass of tangled hair and looked at her grimly.
"So it was Father who told you that I was dead, eh?"
"Four years ago, David; ay, and more than that."
"He was a very hard man," David Strong said. "Four years ago I wrote to him—I had a chance—I wanted a few pounds only, to make a decent appearance. That was his answer. To me there came none."
"He did what he believed to be right," Joan said. "You disobeyed him in going away."
"It is true," he answered.
The man began to move about the room, glancing every now and then towards the door with a certain restlessness. He had come once more under the influence of the one person who in his earlier life had always dominated him. She had brought him along, unwilling and feebly protesting. He began to wonder how he should get away.
"You will stay here, David," she said. "You have not yet seen Cicely."
He shook his head.