She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. It wouldn’t be you. He’s nice. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. His fingers closed upon her hand. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. All she needed to do was to have a body. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence.
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