’ ‘Did I so?’ Gerald said, amused. ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone.
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