She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. ’ She struck her hands together. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. Small blame to her. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. I cannot explain beyond that. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness.
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