His eyes avoided the faces before him, as if in shame.

He looked at his boots, which had just been blacked, but were shabby, and then glanced at the elegant skirts of his wife and daughters; he looked at his shirt-cuffs, which were clean but frayed, and then gathered courage to lift his eyes as far as the dainty hands folded upon laps in show of patience.
"Madeline," he began, in a voice which was naturally harsh, but could express much tenderness, as now, "what news of Clifford ?" "He's still here, papa," was the answer, in a very low voice.
"I am glad of that.

Girls, I've got something to tell you.

I wish it was something pleasant." His parchment cheek showed a distinct flush.

The attempt to keep his eyes on the girls was a failure; he seemed to be about to confess a crime.
"I've brought you bad news, the worst I ever brought you yet.