"To think that I should ever have been such a fool! That I should ever have let him--soil me with his touch! Dad was right; what a fool he must have thought me! If I'd only listened, what might not--have been saved!"
Shortly afterwards she entered the office at St. Paul's Churchyard. Andrews advanced to greet her.
"Mr. Elmore has not yet arrived."
"I know he hasn't; I wish to speak to you."
She led the way towards her father's private room; as he followed Andrews seemed to recognise something in her carriage which recalled his master. There could be no doubt that this was his daughter. When they were in the room and the door was closed, Miss Patterson seated herself in her father's chair. She looked the managing man in the face, with something in her glance which again recalled her sire. "Andrews, I suppose you can observe a confidence?"
Andrews smiled; he rubbed his hands together; one felt that he could not make out the lady's mood, still less achieve a satisfactory guess at what was in the air.
"I hope so, Miss Patterson, I'm sure. Your father reposed many and many a confidence in me, and I never betrayed one of them--I'm not likely now to betray yours."
"Right, Andrews, I believe you. I believe my father knew the kind of man who may be trusted; he trusted you, and I will. Shake hands." She offered him her hand. As if doubtful whether or not he was taking a liberty, he took it in his. They gravely shook hands.
"It's very good of you, Miss Patterson, I'm sure, to say so; but what you do say is true--your father trusted me, and so can you."
She eyed him for some seconds as if debating in her mind what to say to him and just how to say it. Then it came from her, as it were, all of a sudden.