But she looked again. She saw the pleading in their eyes. Their very uncomeliness besought her mercy. After all, she had seen none of the things Verrinder described. The only real things to her, the only things she knew of her own knowledge, were the goodnesses of these two. They were her parents. And now for the first time they needed her. The mortgage their generosity had imposed on her had fallen due.
How could she at the first unsupported obloquy of a stranger turn against them? Her first loyalty was due to them, and no other loyalty was under test. Something swept her to her feet. She ran to them and, as far as she could, gathered them into her arms. They wept like two children whom reproaches have hardened into defiance, but whom kindness has melted.
Verrinder watched the spectacle with some surprise and not altogether with scorn. Whatever else Miss Webling was, she was a good sport. She stuck to her team in defeat.
He said, not quite harshly, “So, Miss Webling, you cast your lot with them.”
“I do.”
“Do you believe that what I said was true?”
“No.”
“Really, you should be careful. Those messages you carried incriminate you.”
“I suppose they do, though I never knew what was in them. No, I’ll take that back. I’m not trying to crawl out of it.”