All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. I’ve bored you or something. ” “Touch you I mean?” She looked around. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know.
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