He had taken her measure years before, but that made no difference to him, he never forgetting that she was his uncle's nominal daughter; that they had been sheltered by the same roof and that she therefore in a way belonged to his people.

Moreover, he realized, that like himself, she had been compelled to give up many of the luxuries and surroundings to which she had been accustomed and which she loved,--worthless now to Jack in his freedom, but still precious to her.

This in itself was enough to bespeak his sympathy.

Not that she valued it;--she rather sniffed at it.
"I wish Jack wouldn't stand with his hat off until I get aboard the train," she had told Garry one day shortly after their arrival--"he makes me so conspicuous.

And he wears such queer clothes.