"Shure, the old woman isn't a very good protector for a gal. She's drunk half the time."
"I can't help it. There are reasons—imperative reasons—why the girl should be concealed for a time, and I can think of no other place than this."
"Who is the girl?"
"It is my own child."
Donovan whistled.
"I see you are surprised. I have little time for explanation, but I may tell you that she has been kept from me by my enemies, who wanted to get hold of her money."
"Has she got money?" asked Donovan, with curiosity.
"She will have, sometime. She is her mother's heiress."
"Did the old lady leave it all away from you, then? Shure, it's hard."