Loving was better than that. His father spoke for him. Drummond,” he continued, looking across at his vis-à-vis, “we look to you to give expression to our sentiments. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. CHAPTER XV.
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