above her
head and let them fall. Her eyes were turned contemplatively towards the
sinking sun. "This man for instance who might have been--who should have
been--my father. He loved her, you know; he must have loved her, or he
wouldn't have remained single all these years. And she worshipped him.
Yet on the very eve of marriage--he jilted her. Extraordinary!"

"How do you know she worshipped him?" Olga spoke with slight constraint;
it seemed to her that the matter was too sacred for casual discussion.

"How do I know? My dear, it is written in black and white on the back of
his photograph. 'The only being I have it in me to love--sovereign lord
of my heart!' Fancy writing that of any man! I couldn't, could you?"

"I don't know," said Olga soberly.

Violet laughed. "You're such a queer child! One day you come flying to
me for protection, and almost the day after, you--"

"Please, Violet!" Olga broke in sharply. "You know I don't like it!"

"Oh, very well, my dear, very well! The subject is closed. We will
return to the renowned Sir Kersley. He was watching me all
luncheon-time. Did you notice?"

Olga had noticed. "Are you very like your mother?" she asked.

"I am better-looking than she ever was," said Violet, without vanity.
"You see, my father, Judge Campion (he was nearly sixty when he married
her, by the way), was considered the handsomest man in India at the
time. She was a Californian, and very Southern in temperament, I
believe. I often rather wish I could have seen her, though she would
probably have hated me for not being the child of the man she loved. She
died almost before I was born however. I daresay it's as well. I'm sure
we shouldn't have got on."

"Violet! How can you say those things?"

"I always say whatever occurs to me," said Violet. "It's so much
simpler. Mrs. Briggs was all the mother I ever knew or wanted. Of course
as soon as Bruce settled down, I was taken to live with them. But I
never liked either of them. They always resented the Judge's second
marriage."

"Why didn't he take care of you himself?" asked Olga.

"My dear, he was dead. He died before she did. He was assassinated by a
native before they had been married three months. I've always thought it
was rather poor-spirited of her to die too; for of course she never
cared for him. She must have married him only to pique Kersley. By the
way, Major Hunt-Goring met them in his subaltern days. He said everyone
fell in love with h