He took the hands, held them for a moment, and said,
“I’m afraid it is.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes. We thought that you were too.”
She drew her hands away.
“My father wanted it that way.”
“He knew you were alive?”
She had very dark blue eyes. The long black lashes had darkened them still more. They lifted now. She looked full at Frank and said,
“Oh, yes, he knew.” Her voice was soft and pretty, with no trace of country accent. On those last words it was tinged with bitter feeling.
She turned to Randall March.
“I beg your pardon—I should have spoken to you. But I am sure you will understand. I have known Mr. Frank since I was a little girl, and I have just heard of my father’s death—it was nice to see a friendly face. But of course I know you too—by sight. I used to work in Ledlington.”
