She was very pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

She showed the unnatural self-possession that a brave woman forces on herself in the presence of a great emergency.

Her eyes were tragic.
She came straight to his arms.

She lowered her head and partly broke down and wept a little.
"Ah, it's so good to have some one to lean on!" she murmured.
"Your father--what is the matter with him ?" asked Ambrose.
The look in her eyes and her piteous shaking warned him to expect something worse than the tale of an illness.
She lifted her white face.
"Father was shot last night," she said.
"Good God!" said Ambrose.

"By whom ?" "We do not know." "He's not--he's not--" Ambrose's tongue balked at the dreadful word.
She shook her head.