She remembered the strange cities which she and her father's _protege_ had looked at side by side; he with a calm listlessness of manner, which might either be real or assumed, but which never varied; she with an inward tremor of excitement and surprise.

They had been very happy together, this lonely unprotected girl and the reckless adventurer.

If his manner to her had been fitful, it had been sometimes dangerously, fatally kind.

She looked back now, and remembered the days which she had spent with him, and knew that all the pleasures possible in a prosperous and successful life could never bring for her such delight as she had known in the midst of her wanderings; though shame and danger lurked at every corner, and poverty, disguised in that tawdry masquerade habit in which the swindler dresses it, accompanied her wherever she went.
She had been happy with him because she had loved him.

That close companionship, sisterly and brotherly though it had seemed, had been fatal for the lonely and friendless daughter of Horatio Paget.