Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. You have said a thousand times that there was no shame in you. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. She did not twitch. Not at all. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. Hitherto you’ve seen only my easy, kindly side. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery.
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