Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. Her father was distinctly irascible, and disposed more than ever to hide away among the petrological things—the study was turned out. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. ” “Ye—e—es. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. “You poor little girl!” he cried. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty.
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