“MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. ” She whispered to him. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. "What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. Nothing ensued.
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