Fairchild moved swiftly towards the door and laid his hand upon the knob to prevent any intrusion.
The knock was repeated. He opened the door to a narrow crack. Then he opened it wider.
Abbie Brainard stood on the threshold.
She stepped in swiftly and softly. She shut the door behind her quickly and then leaned her back against its shining panels.
Her face was pale; her bosom was heaving; but her gray eyes gave out the strong and steady light of courage and resolution.
Ogden saw her. He locked his jaws, and took a firm hold on the two arms of his chair, and raised himself and stood erect before her. Had not she herself, on this very spot, once done the same for him? However it might be, or might have been, with others, here, at least, was one who should not see him humbled.
There was no salutation of any kind on either side. She saw him, but seemed to be looking beyond him rather than at him; and in his eyes she stood there with the remote inaccessibility of some distant snow-peak.
Her father turned towards her.
"Abbie! You here? What do you want? What do you mean by coming in like this? Go out again!"
She looked at him with a cool and quiet inflexibility. But her voice was low and trembling as she said,