The hills surrounded her cave home protectively. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. She was practically destitute of jewellery. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. ‘Parbleu, but it is not comfortable in the least in there.
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