He was sure now why Gabriel Strood had changed his name; he knew now why Gabriel Strood no longer climbed the Alps; and why Kenyon would answer no question as to the disappearance of his friend.
"I have told you this," said Sylvia, "because you accused my father of unkindness and want of thought.

Would you have thought of those poor prisoners over there in the quarries?
If you had, would you have taken so much trouble just to give them a small luxury?
I think they must have blessed the unknown man who thought for them and showed them what so many want--a little sympathy and a little kindness." Chayne bowed his head.
"Yes," he said, gently.

"I was unjust." Indeed even to himself he acknowledged that Garratt Skinner had shown an unexpected kindness, although he was sure of the reason for the act.

He had no doubt that Garratt Skinner had labored in those quarries himself, and perhaps had himself picked up in bygone days, as he stooped over his work, tobacco thrown over the walls by some more fortunate man.
"I am glad you acknowledge that," said Sylvia, but her voice did not relent from its hostility.

She stood without further word, expecting him to take his leave.