"I'll go," she said, but held him with her adoring child's eyes for a minute still, then slipped from the chair and went to the door. But there she turned, and with her head pitifully lifted faced the two men. "My papa has done nothing wrong," she said. "They have put him in prison, but it is a mistake. Papa has done nothing wrong."
"Poor child!" Sir Francis said, and turned away. The scene had been painful. He was anxious that it should be over.
Reginald had gone to the door and opened it for her. "You keep your spirits up," he said coaxingly. "Don't you go and be unhappy, Deleah." He was passing through the door with her, whispering cheery words, but his brother called him sharply back.
"Reggie, come here!"
"In a minute."
"No, now. I want you."
There were certain tones of his brother's voice which the younger man had, so far, never dreamed of disregarding. He reappeared in the room and closed the door on Deleah's retreating figure.
"Where were you going?"
"Nowhere, in particular. To walk part of the way home with that poor little girl."
"Stop here, will you? I want you."