But really it is much more than that. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions.
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