breakfast-table, 'is how she got into such a position. We all know that
at one time she was to be seen in--well, in a very questionable place,
at an hour which left no doubt about her--her means of livelihood. I
must say I thought she was quite lost.'...

'Oh, well, I can tell you that easily enough,' replied her nephew.
'She's being kept by Sir Somebody Something, and he's running the show
for her.'

'James, I wish you would be more careful about your language. It's not
necessary to call a spade a spade, and you can surely find a less
objectionable expression to explain the relationship between the
persons.... Don't you remember his name?'

'No; I heard it, but I've really forgotten.'

'I see in this week's _Tercanbury Times_ that there's a Sir Herbert
Ously-Farrowham staying at the "George" just now.'

'That's it. Sir Herbert Ously-Farrowham.'

'How sad! I'll look him out in Burke.'

She took down the reference book, which was kept beside the clergy list.

'Dear me, he's only twenty-nine.... And he's got a house in Cavendish
Square and a house in the country. He must be very well-to-do; and he
belongs to the Junior Carlton and two other clubs.... And he's got a
sister who's married to Lord Edward Lake.' Mrs Gray closed the book and
held it with a finger to mark the place, like a Bible. 'It's very sad to
think of the dissipation of so many members of the aristocracy. It sets
such a bad example to the lower classes.'

X

They showed old Griffith a portrait of Daisy in her theatrical costume.

'Has she come to that?' he said.

He looked at it a moment, then savagely tore it in pieces and flung it
in the fire.

'Oh, my God!' he groaned; he could not get out of his head the picture,
the shamelessness of the costume, the smile, the evident prosperity and
content. He felt now that he had lost his daughter indeed. All these
years he had kept his heart open to her, and his heart had bled when he
thought of her starving, ragged, perhaps dead. He had thought of her
begging her bread and working her beautiful hands to the bone in some
factory. He had always hoped that some day she could return to him,
purified by the fire of suffering.... But she was prosperous and happy
and rich. She was applauded, worshipped; the papers were full of her
praise. Old Griffith was filled with a feeling of horror, of immense
repulsion. She was flourishing in her sin, and he loathed her. He had
been so ready to forgive her when