The man of all others who ought to have been fondest of her was the man who behaved cruelly to Iris--her own father.
And, when the poor creature married (if she did marry), how many of you attended the wedding?
Not one of us! And when she died, how many of you were sorry for her?
All of us! What?
no difference of opinion in that one particular?
On the contrary, perfect concord, thank God.
Let the years roll back, and let Iris speak for herself, at the memorable time when she was in the prime of her life, and when a stormy career was before her.
IV BEING Miss Henley's godfather, Sir Giles was a privileged person.

He laid his hairy hands on her shoulders, and kissed her on either cheek.
After that prefatory act of endearment, he made his inquiries.

What extraordinary combination of events had led Iris to leave London, and had brought her to visit him in his banking-house at Ardoon?
"I wanted to get away from home," she answered; "and having nobody to go to but my godfather, I thought I should like to see You." "Alone!" cried Sir Giles.
"No--with my maid to keep me company." "Only your maid, Iris?
Surely you have acquaintances among young ladies like yourself ?" "Acquaintances--yes.

No friends." "Does your father approve of what you have done ?" "Will you grant me a favour, godpapa ?" "Yes--if I can." "Don't insist on my answering your last question." The faint colour that had risen in her face, when she entered the room, left it.

At the same time, the expression of her mouth altered.