"I thought it would set her up for the winter."
"Is she not well?"
"Perfectly, father; but—she likes it, and—we were able to do it last year."
"She is in lodgings, then, and alone?"
"Yes."
"When does the next train leave?"
"Eight-ten," said Harry, a minute later.
Mr. Ringrose had shaded his eyes once more. They shone like a young man's as with a sudden gesture he whisked his hand away and snatched at his watch.
"Only five hours more! Thank God—thank God—that I can look her in the face to-day!"