'I don't know that I shall pass the winter here. My arrangements are
all temporary--all of them.'
After glancing at him the other crossed his legs and seemed to
dispose himself for a stay of some duration.
'You didn't turn up the other night--in Hanover Street.'
'No.'
'I was there. We talked about you. My father has a notion you
haven't been quite well lately. I dare say you're worrying a little,
eh?'
Sidney remained standing by the fireplace, turned so that his face
was in shadow.
'Worry? Oh, I don't know,' he replied, idly.
'Well, _I'm_ worried a good deal, Sidney, and that's the fact.'
'What about?'
'All sorts of things. I've meant to have a long talk with you; but
then I don't quite know how to begin. Well, see, it's chiefly about
Jane.'
Sidney neither moved nor spoke.
'After all, Sidney,' resumed the other, softening his voice, 'I _am_
her father, you see. A precious bad one I've been, that there's no
denying, and dash it if I don't sometimes feel ashamed of myself. I
do when she speaks to me in that pleasant way she has--you know
what I mean. For all that, I am her father, and I think it's only
right I should do my best to make her happy.
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