She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. . Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. She agreed entirely with her brother. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Her fingers rested upon his. Sheppard, returning his embrace with all a parent's tenderness.
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