She nodded.
He shook his head. “Oh, my little girl!” he said sadly.
“Daddy! It isn’t true!” Now she knelt, looking up at him, imploring.
“All your life, Phœbe,” he began, “I’ve kept one thought in front of me always: your happiness. I want you to believe that——”
“I do!”
“Whatever I’ve done—even if it doesn’t turn out right—remember that I never considered myself, only my daughter. I brought you here, where you miss your Mother, when I knew your little heart would ache. Oh, Phœbe,”—he bent toward her lovingly—“you used to notice, didn’t you, that in New York, when Daddy left the apartment, he kissed only you good-bye?”
“Yes.”
“And for a long time you haven’t seen Daddy and Mother go anywhere together.”
“Daddy,” she whispered, with a quick look beyond him, lest she be overheard, “don’t you like my mother?”
“Ah, Phœbe!” He shook his head again, sighing. “Ah, if I could only spare my little girl!”