In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. She followed the official back into his room. “Poor old daddy! I wonder if he’ll spend much on the fatted calf?. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution.
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