So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. Wood. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. Both girls looked pale and listless. There was a third lady among the younger set. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions.
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