Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. " Davies reluctantly complied. ‘Now then,’ said the captain sternly, ‘I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing here. She became angry with herself. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. But this is not sufficient. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago.
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