But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. In the beginning it was a dictionary. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. “I am frightened now. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him.
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