A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. "Where am I to take it to?" asked Sheppard. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. "Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. ’ Her eyes narrowed. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. He divorced her. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance.
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