Drake bent over her, stroking her hair with a gentle helpless movement of his hand and occasionally varying his consolation by a pat on the shoulders.

The puffed sleeves of silk yielding under his touch gave him a queer impression of the girl's fragility.
'Oh don't, child!' he entreated.

'It's my fault for speaking so soon.

But really there's nothing to fear--nothing.

It'll all come out right--not a doubt of that.