He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. . Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream.
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