Every father has them, too." And he bent over her and kissed her, with unusual emotion.
"Every father ?" asked she.

"What do you mean?
Am _I_ a sorrow to you ?" "A joy in many ways," he answered.

"In some, a sorrow." "In what ways ?" she asked quickly, her eyes widening.
"In this way, most of all," he told her, as he took her left hand up, and pointed at the finger where Waldron's ring had been and now no longer was.
She looked at him a moment, hardly understanding; then bowed her head.
"Father," she whispered.

"Forgive me--but I couldn't! I--I couldn't! No, not for the world!" Flint's drug-contracted eyes hardened as he stood there gazing down at her.

Once, twice he essayed to speak, but found no words.