But she had not recovered all her self-possession when she reached the courtyard.
"Evening, Miss McClean," said Cunningham; and she all but fainted, she was strained to such a pitch of nervousness.
"Where have you come from, Miss McClean ?" asked Cunningham.

And she told him.

She was not quite so stiff-chinned as she had been.
"What were you doing there ?" She told him that, too.
"Where is your father ?" "In his chair on the veranda, Mr.Cunningham.There, in that deep shadow." "Come to him, please.

I want your explanation in his presence." She followed as obediently as a child.

The sense of guilt--of fright--of impending judgment left her as she walked with him, and gave place to a glow of comfort that here should be a man on whom to lean.