Come back with me to-night. I do not wish for you to see me feed. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. Father— dead. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. But I will disappoint you. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards. How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. 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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