‘So nice for her to have a father again——’
‘Are they devoted to each other?’
‘Have you been down to Chickover with him yet?’
‘We’re simply aching to see him——’
And there in the doorway he stood.
‘Here is Christopher,’ said Catherine, flushing and half getting up.
They all turned their heads. For a moment nobody spoke. He advanced on them with outstretched hand, doing his best to smile broadly, to be the welcoming host.
That young man. That boy. The boy they had found with Catherine one day, who had rushed out the minute they came in, and Catherine had laughed when they asked who on earth he was, and said all she knew about him was that he was certainly mad. That fellow. The youth who had glared through the window of the car and almost shook his fist....
The Fanshawes couldn’t speak. They couldn’t move either. They were stunned.