Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. " "How did he take it?" "He did not seem to care. His glance came up again and met hers. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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