Mrs.
Fyne restrained her, soothed her, induced her at last to lay her head on her pillow again, assuring her all the time that nothing this woman had had the cruelty to say deserved to be taken to heart.

The girl, exhausted, cried quietly for a time.

It may be she had noticed something evasive in Mrs.Fyne's assurances.

After a while, without stirring, she whispered brokenly: "That awful woman told me that all the world would call papa these awful names.

Is it possible?
Is it possible ?" Mrs.Fyne kept silent.
"Do say something to me, Mrs.Fyne," the daughter of de Barral insisted in the same feeble whisper.
Again Mrs.Fyne assured me that it had been very trying.