Part 5 The next morning she waited in the laboratory at the lunch-hour in the reasonable certainty that he would come to her. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point.
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