"It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. But he has never been near her—never. But all of that was forgotten. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. ’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy.
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