He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. Anna herself opened the hall door. Very well. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. But leave me here in my home, child, I will disintegrate if I am exposed.
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