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For a moment something like panic surged in her heart. Before, only grief had stirred her. But, of a sudden now, grief receded into the background, a depressing shadow always threatening, whilst a wholly new emotion took possession of her. Her moment of panic passed. Her thought cleared of all confusion and a swift, keen resolution descended upon her and brought her calmness of spirit.

Claire had far more in common with her dead father than with the gentle woman behind her. In looks, in build, in spirit she was essentially her father’s child. Never before had the dead man’s qualities had reason to display themselves in her. But now it was different. In her realisation of her sudden responsibilities, the flood-tide of the reckless gambling spirit of her parent poured forth. Her brother Jim, in the same spirit, had fared forth to the uttermost ends of the earth on a bare—almost ridiculous—chance to help them in their need. He had achieved. And only the merciless waves had robbed him and them of the full fruits of his gambler’s adventure. Could she sit down under the misfortune that had robbed them of a well-loved brother and the fortune he had won for them? No. For all the fall day was closing, with their fortunes at a lesser ebb than the dawn had found them, their need was still urgent. And the spirit of her father was awake and burning strongly in her as she contemplated its reality.