The Salt Of The Earth by Fred M. White

What was spoken in whispers gathered volume as it was circulated, and in a few days everybody knew the story of the man who had chosen to call himself Samuel Burton. The older generation in society recollected him perfectly well; and regaled younger men with stories of his hot youth, and of the black circumstances in which he left the army. He had made his money in his lifetime in some dark and mysterious manner known to himself, and had maintained his adopted daughter in every luxury; but the fact that he had left her entirely penniless was an open secret now. Men speculated in their idle, gossiping way on what Adela would do, and laughed over Mark Callader's disappointment. As for Adela, no one seemed to care a pin. Others as fortunately situated as herself had gone under, and society had forgotten them in a week.

But certain people were not in the least likely to forget the unfortunate girl. She figured largely in the books of many tradesmen and shopkeepers in the West End, who took alarm at once. Though it was barely luncheon time, Adela already felt the sting of it. Had she opened the many demands for instant payment that every post had brought she might have been at least forewarned. She had been annoyed by seedy-looking men who had thrust documents upon her in the streets, but these she had thrown aside contemptuously. When she came down late to lunch she had to face one harsh aspect of her altered circumstances. For a man was waiting to see her who would take no denial. He was civil enough, but his manner was so persistent that she felt her heart turn cold within her as she asked his business.