She had expected sympathetic admiration, but instead the whole Widgett family, except Teddy, expressed a common dismay. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that.
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