He groaned slightly as he breathed, with a horrid weight of nausea. There was a fumbling upon the door-knob. Siegmund did not start. He merely pulled himself together. Gwen pushed open the door, and stood holding on to the door-knob looking at him.
“Dad, Mam says dinner’s ready,” she announced.
Siegmund did not reply. The child waited, at a loss for some moments, before she repeated, in a hesitating tone:
“Dinner’s ready.”
“All right,” said Siegmund. “Go away.”
The little girl returned to the kitchen with tears in her eyes, very crestfallen.
“What did he say?” asked Beatrice.
“He shouted at me,” replied the little one, breaking into tears.
Beatrice flushed. Tears came into her own eyes. She took the child in her arms and pressed her to her, kissing her forehead.
“Did he?” she said very tenderly. “Never mind, then, dearie—never mind.”