"Tell me, is it so bad as that?"

She put that question sadly, without bitterness. The famous--or

notorious--de Barral had lost his rigidity now. He was bent. Nothing

more deplorably futile than a bent poker. He said nothing. She added

gently, suppressing an uneasy remorseful sigh: "And it might have been worse. You might have found no one, no one in

all this town, no one in all the world, not even me! Poor papa!"

She made a conscience-stricken movement towards him thinking: "Oh! I am

horrible, I am horrible." And old de Barral, scared, tired, bewildered

by the extraordinary shocks of his liberation, swayed over and actually

leaned his head on her shoulder, as if sorrowing over his regained

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freedom.

The movement by itself was touching. Flora supporting him lightly

imagined that he was crying; and at the thought that had she smashed in a

quarry that shoulder, together with some other of her bones, this grey

and pitiful head would have had nowhere to rest, she too gave way to

tears. They flowed quietly, easing her overstrained nerves. Suddenly he

pushed her away from him so that her head struck the side of the cab,

pushing himself away too from her as if something had stung him.

All the warmth went out of her emotion. The very last tears turned cold

on her cheek. But their work was done. She had found courage,

resolution, as women do, in a good cry. With his hand covering the upper

part of his face whether to conceal his eyes or to shut out an unbearable

sight, he was stiffening up in his corner to his usual poker-like

consistency. She regarded him in silence. His thin obstinate lips

moved. He uttered the name of the cousin--the man, you remember, who did

not approve of the Fynes, and whom rightly or wrongly little Fyne

suspected of interested motives, in view of de Barral having possibly put

away some plunder, somewhere before the smash.

I may just as well tell you at once that I don't know anything more of

him. But de Barral was of the opinion, speaking in his low voice from

under his hand, that this relation would have been only too glad to have

secured his guidance.

"Of course I could not come forward in my own name, or person. But the

advice of a man of my experience is as good as a fortune to anybody

wishing to venture into finance. The same sort of thing can be done

again."

He shuffled his feet a little, let fall his hand; and turning carefully

toward his daughter his puffy round cheeks, his round chin resting on his

collar, he bent on her the faded, resentful gaze of his pale eyes, which

were wet.




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