He glanced down at her with a grim smile. She was looking better than he had seen her since her mother's death. There was a flush in her cheeks and her eyes were bright, but her thoughts were far away from him, it seemed, for she started when he spoke to her.
"I've found out about your father," he began curtly. It was not in his nature to be a tactician, and he knew that his blunt reference to the trouble between them hurt her; but he went on doggedly:
"It's true enough. He failed owing to a syndicate formed by me, but, as far as I can remember, I personally never heard his name or saw him." He waited, surprised at himself because he was hoping so desperately for a kind word or a little smile, but Faith only said "Yes," and kept her eyes steadily ahead.
"If you understood business," he went on, "you'd see that I am not to blame at all. Don't think I'm trying to shield myself, but I like fair play."
"Yes," said Faith again. Then she added, with a little nervous tremble in her voice, "I loved my father."
The Beggar Man laughed.
"And you don't love me, you mean! I'm quite aware of that."
She did not say any more, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.