The knowledge that her father had been a man of immoral habits was not
new to her. His predilection for fast women had long ago made it
impossible for her to live in the same house with him for more than a
week at a time. But that he had trampled in the mire the lifelong
friendship of an honourable man for the sake of an ignoble passion
revealed an unexpected depth of shame. That Mr. Holymead had killed him
seemed almost a natural result of the situation. It was not that she felt
that a just retribution had overtaken her father, but rather that she was
glad his shameful conduct had come to an end. As she thought of her dead
father--dead these three months--she gave a sigh of relief. The wretched
guilty woman, who had shared with him the shame of his ignoble intrigue,
had said that if her father could make his wishes known he would plead
for the life of the friend he had dishonoured. But it was not her
father's plea for the life of his friend that would have impressed her so
much as a plea to bury the whole unsavoury scandal from the light. She
had promised to save Mr. Holymead if she could, but that promise had
sprung less from the spirit of mercy than from the desire to save her
father's name from a scandal, which would hold him up to public obloquy.
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