Not successfully, he
felt, as Mr. and Mrs. Moreen, dinnerless by their extinguished hearth,
rose before him in their little dishonoured salon, casting about with
glassy eyes for the nearest port in such a storm. They were not
prostrate but were horribly white, and Mrs. Moreen had evidently been
crying. Pemberton quickly learned however that her grief was not for the
loss of her dinner, much as she usually enjoyed it, but the fruit of a
blow that struck even deeper, as she made all haste to explain. He would
see for himself, so far as that went, how the great change had come, the
dreadful bolt had fallen, and how they would now all have to turn
themselves about. Therefore cruel as it was to them to part with their
darling she must look to him to carry a little further the influence he
had so fortunately acquired with the boy--to induce his young charge to
follow him into some modest retreat. They depended on him--that was the
fact--to take their delightful child temporarily under his protection; it
would leave Mr.
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