her. The laugh was gone. "So you came up?" he said
impatiently. "I would have called you in time.
I---- Mother!" He caught her by the arm. "Wait, I must
see you alone for a minute." Urged by the amazed fright
in her face, he went on desperately, "I have something to
tell you. I intended to break it to you. I don't want
to hurt you, God knows. But I have not been idle in
these days. I have found your daughter. She is here."

He led her up to the chair. The girl's head was wrapped
in a veil and turned from her.

Mrs. Waldeaux held out her hands. "Lucy! Lucy Dunbar!"
she heard herself say.

"Mais non! Cest moi!" said a shrill voice, and Mlle.
Arpent, turning her head lazily, looked at her, smiling.



CHAPTER II

Clara Vance had her faults, but nobody could deny that,
in this crisis, she acted with feeling and tact. She
ignored mademoiselle and her lover, whose bliss was in
evidence on deck all day, and took possession of Mrs.
Waldeaux, caring for her as tenderly as if she had been
some poor wretch sentenced to death. "She has no
intellect left except her ideas about George," she told
herself, "and if he turns his back on her for life in