‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. "Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other. “Well, well, Martin.
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