Sylvia had, in fact, almost come to the end of her letters, when Garratt Skinner suddenly pushed back his chair and stood up.

At the noise, abrupt as a startled cry, Sylvia turned swiftly round.

She saw that her father was gazing with a look of perplexity into the garden, and that for the moment he had forgotten her presence.

She crossed the room quickly and noiselessly, and standing just behind his elbow, saw what he saw.

The blood flushed her throat and mounted into her cheeks, her eyes softened, and a smile of welcome transfigured her grave face.