“I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. I know life. But she has let fall enough for me to understand that she knows about her father’s misdeeds. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort.
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