F. Winifred pointed to the door. ” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee.
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