Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. Not like my father. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. Was not Gerald altogether on her side? He was, even though he played games like an imbecile, a person tout à fait sympathique as she had discovered at the outset. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. Wild, he asserted, had robbed him of a large sum of money, and till it was restored he would never plead. Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door.
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