“I am afraid you will refuse.”
“At least give me the opportunity.”
“Well—in the glimpse, the half-glimpse, which I had of her, I seemed”…
Dr. Cumberly rested his hands upon his daughter’s shoulders characteristically, looking into the troubled gray eyes.
“You don’t mean,” he began…
“I thought I recognized her!” whispered the girl.
“Good God! can it be possible?”
“I have been trying, ever since, to recall where we had met, but without result. It might mean so much”…
Dr. Cumberly regarded her, fixedly.
“It might mean so much to—Mr. Leroux. But I suppose you will say it is impossible?”
“It is impossible,” said Dr. Cumberly firmly; “dismiss the idea, Helen.”
“But father,” pleaded the girl, placing her hands over his own, “consider what is at stake”…
“I am anxious that you should not become involved in this morbid business.”
“But you surely know me better than to expect me to faint or become hysterical, or anything silly like that! I was certainly shocked when I came down to-night, because—well, it was all so frightfully unexpected”…
Dr. Cumberly shook his head. Helen put her arms about his neck and raised her eyes to his.
