“Madame Von Bruyin,” said Lilith, addressing her patroness with a slight gesture of her hand towards her visitor, “please permit me to present to you the Señor Zuniga, my father.”
The gentleman bowed profoundly; the lady graciously, saying:
“I am glad to see you, señor. Your daughter is a dear young friend of mine. Pray resume your seat. I hope that you will favor us with your company at luncheon.”
“I thank you, madame, I shall be very happy,” replied the señor, with another bow.
But there was one figure in the group that stood transfixed, staring with eyes and mouth wide open, then muttering:
“Why—why—why—I didn’t know—why—why—why——”
But she could get no further.
Lilith went and put her arms around the old lady’s neck, and murmured, softly:
“Yes, Aunt Sophie, he is my dear father. I will tell you all about it by and by.”
“But—how come he, the sinner, to be your father?” inquired the dazed old lady.