She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. The word of a Chinaman; he had given it, so he must abide. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it.
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