Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. Anna was singing as she used to sing. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary.
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