Mr. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. She thought Alice a bit of a sneak, an opinion her brothers shared, and Gwen rather a snatch at meals. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now.
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