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Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. From me. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. Ownership seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a daughter’s upbringing. Here was a thundering blow.
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