"Leonore? Did you speak to them?"
"To him—not to her. We had to stand together on the platform, but I sheered off directly the train came in. He had told me what he was there for."
"But you saw Leonore arrive?"
"I saw her, yes,—poor black little thing. There seemed nothing of her at all beneath her widow's trappings. Handsome trappings they were too; the furs of a millionairess."
"Did she look——?"
"Rather miserable and frightened. Scared at seeing her father, I daresay. Bland and civil as the old ruffian is, every one knows how the girls quake before him. There he was, doing the polite, footman in attendance, big carriage outside—all to be taken note of as evidence that Mrs. Godfrey Stubbs was worth it."
"You are always down on that poor old man."
"Can't help it. I hate him."
"I do think you might give him credit for some fatherly feeling."
"I don't—not a ha'porth. Fatherly feeling? Bless my soul, I can never forget his face at the time of the marriage; it was simply bursting with greedy exultation, and at what? At getting rid of the poor child to such a high bidder. Stubbs wasn't a bad fellow, but it would have been all the same if he had been. Leonore was chucked at his head——"