"Here, Jack." Her voice came from at his very side. "Isn't it terrible!
We can't go in this."
Holding his child close against his breast, her cheeks against his, her gold-brown hair mixing with the gray of his temples, he said:
"Not you and Muriel, of course. But I must. It won't last long; you and Tom can come on a later train. Parks can come with you. There'll be plenty of time. It's only that I have urgent business that I must attend to before sailing."
In a swirl of wind and rain, Parks stepped into the room, and addressing
Schuyler, said:
"We should be starting, sir."
Schuyler nodded. The butler was holding his coat in readiness. He thrust his arms within the sleeves and, with a shrug of broad shoulders, stood prepared for departure.
Lifting the little girl that was his own, and of the woman he loved, he held her for a brief moment tight to his breast. In her little ear he whispered:
"Bye, little sweetheart."
She clung to him, little hands about his neck…. He set her down again upon the floor. She ran to Blake, waiting.
The deep lids of Kathryn were half veiling the violet eyes—eyes moist, and very soft. There was a little tremor of the sensitive lips. Schuyler drew her to him, so that she faced him, and whispered: