She looked up at him and asked the strangest question that could possibly fall from a daughter's lips:
"Mr. Revington, will you tell me the name of my father?"
The piteous sadness of the tone, and the pathos of the question must have touched the heart of a better man.
But Julius Revington was thoroughly hard and selfish.
"You have never heard his name, then?" he said.
"Never," she replied. "Will you tell it to me now?"
"Not yet," he replied, cruelly. "I will reserve that pleasant bit of information for our marriage day."
She flashed a sudden, piercing glance upon him.
"You are deceiving me," she said. "You are trying to win me by a pretended knowledge of facts that do not exist."