He upset some one —probably Mr. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. ’ She advanced towards him.
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