Then, with a gloomy brow, Sir Francis consented. "Very well. I will be in
the way, this afternoon. You say Mr. Boult also will be in the way? If we
can do anything we will."
"It's all right, Deleah," Reggie said. "I told you it would be all right."
"And, remember," Sir Francis adjured her, "that what I do, I do for
you--and for you alone."
Her petition, she understood, was granted; her clasped hands fell from
their attitude of prayer, but her strained eyes still clung to Sir
Francis's face. She did not attempt to thank him; words were inadequate to
express what she felt--she did not think of using them; but there was
adoration of him in her eyes.
With his promise to help, resentment had died out of the man. He took the
glass which Reggie had put down, and himself held it to her lips. "Sip a
little; it will give you strength," he said in the voice of authority; and
she obediently sipped.
"I'll go," she said, but held him with her adoring child's eyes for a
minute still, then slipped from the chair and went to the door. But there
she turned, and with her head pitifully lifted faced the two men. "My papa
has done nothing wrong," she said. "They have put him in prison, but it is
a mistake.
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