There were light, hurrying steps after him, and a soft flutter of girlish skirts, but he never looked away from his own self until Rebecca touched his arm.

Then he looked around with a start and a great blush, and jerked his arm away.
But Rebecca followed him up quite boldly, and caught his arm again, and looked up in his face.

"Don't you feel bad," said she; "don't you feel bad.

You aren't to blame." "Isn't he my father ?" "You aren't to blame for that." "Disgrace comes without blame," said William, and he moved on.
Rebecca kept close to his side, clinging to his arm.

"It's your father's way," said she.