"Gambia is no place for you, my darling. There's nothing there to amuse and interest a young girl."
"Perhaps not," Pansy said as she took off her hat and gloves, watching him with a rather set smile. "But I don't care where I go so long as I can be with you and get away from myself."
Her words made Barclay look at her sharply.
To want to get away from one's self was a feeling he could understand and sympathise with, only too well. But to hear such a sentiment on his daughter's lips surprised and hurt him.
"My little girl, what has happened?" he asked gently.
Pansy laughed again, but there was a sharp catch of pain in her mirth.
"I think my heart is broken, that's all," she said with a would-be casual air.
Barclay did not wait to hear any more at that moment. He drew her down on to a couch and sat there with his arm about her.
"My poor little girl," he whispered. "Tell me all about it."
Pansy laid her head on his shoulder, and smiled at him with lips that trembled woefully.