Old Fog's hands dropped, he glanced nervously towards the visitor.

'What have you brought for me to-night, father dear?'

'Nothing, child; that is, nothing of any consequence. But it is
growing late; run off to your nest'

'O no, papa, you have had no supper, nor--'

'I am not hungry. Go, child, go; do not grieve me,' said the old man
in a low tone.

'Grieve you? Dear papa, never!' said the girl, her voice softening to
tenderness in a moment. 'I will run straight to my room.--Come,
Lorez.'

The door closed. 'Now for us two,' thought Waring.

But the cloud had passed from old Fog's face, and he drew up his chair
confidentially. 'You see how it is,' he began in an apologetic tone;
'that child is the darling of my life, and I could not resist taking
those things for her; she has so few books, and she likes those little
lumps of sugar.'

'And the Titian picture?' said Waring, watching him doubtfully.

'A father's foolish pride; I knew she was lovelier, but I wanted to
see the two side by side. She is lovelier, isn't she?'