"To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. ” His father said. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her.
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