The young woman made a little face at the mention of Mr. Battard’s name.
“I’ve heard him, father. You speak much better than he does.”
But the old lawyer replied almost crossly: “I don’t speak well, little girl. I simply say what I have to say.”
“Why don’t you defend him yourself, father?”
“That wouldn’t do at all. Don’t you see it wouldn’t, Margaret?”
She came to him, and, putting a hand on his shoulder, leant her head against his breast.
“Father, have you forgiven Maurice?”
“He hasn’t asked me.”
“That’s because he feels so badly.”
“Yes, no doubt. Fate can give us cruel blows. He at least has been responsible for his own ill-luck.”