Her eyes were wide open with amazement. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. “She has been to my flat before. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. They give themselves airs, but so it is. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. It will be a little lonely sometimes,” she said, looking around at them, “and I shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself —and I think for you. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. He did his best not to grin. A father is in debt, we'll say.
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