"Here I am to look after you again! How well you look. I am so glad and oh! where is your sling?"
In speaking she stroked him. His skin was clearer, she thought, and the abandoned sling was a relief.
He looked up at her. "You got married without me. I ought to have been there. Why didn't you tell me? It was for me to give you away. Who did?"
"Who did what?"
"Who gave you in marriage?"
With the mimic of gaiety, Cassy laughed. "Why, you old dear, all that has gone out. Hereabouts, nowadays, a father never goes to a wedding—only to funerals."
She paused and, with the idea of breaking it to him in bits, resumed: "Besides, it was all done in a hurry, in too much of a hurry."
He took it in, but at the wrong end. "Sick of him already, eh? Well, it isn't because I did not warn you. Where is he?"
Cassy moved back. Should she give it to him then or later? But the question, repeating itself, followed her.
"Where is your husband?"