He wore a light gray suit, and on the slender white hand that hung down over the hammock's edge was a spark of diamond fire.
It seemed to me that I knew his face, although assuredly I had never seen him before.

While I groped among vague speculations the Story Girl gave a queer, choked little cry.

The next moment she had sprung over the intervening space, dropped on her knees by the hammock, and flung her arms about the man's neck.
"Father! Father!" she cried, while I stood, rooted to the ground in my amazement.
The sleeper stirred and opened two large, exceedingly brilliant hazel eyes.

For a moment he gazed rather blankly at the brown-curled young lady who was embracing him.

Then a most delightful smile broke over his face; he sprang up and caught her to his heart.
"Sara--Sara--my little Sara! To think didn't know you at first glance! But you are almost a woman.