'I can only give you two minutes, darling,' he said. 'I'm full of business, and I have an appointment with my solicitor at eleven.'
Lucy could not speak. She clung to her father, looking at him with anxious, sombre eyes; but he laughed and patted her hand.
'You mustn't make too much of all this, my love,' he said brightly. 'These little things are always liable to happen to a man of business; they are the perils of the profession, and we have to put up with them, just as kings and queens have to put up with bomb-shells.'
'There's no truth in it, father?'
She did not want to ask that wounding question, but the words slipped from her lips against her will. He broke away from her.
'Truth? My dear child, what do you mean? You don't suppose I'm the man to rob the widow and the orphan? Of course, there's no truth in it.'
'Oh, I'm so glad to hear that,' she exclaimed, with a deep sigh of relief.
'Have they been frightening you?'
Lucy flushed under his frank look of amusement. She felt that there was a barrier between herself and him, the barrier that had existed for years, and there was something in his manner which filled her with unaccountable anxiety. She would not analyse that vague emotion. It was a dread to see what was so carefully hidden by that breezy reserve. She forced herself to go on.
'I know that you're often carried away by your fancies, and I thought you might have got into an ambiguous position.'