“Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. She shook her head. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. I think that there is no better friend for a girl than a man rather older than herself.
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