“But, dear, think! He is your father. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. I said I’d make shirts. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. “This is what comes of being a young woman up to date. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. How much Mary knew is a mystery.
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