“Nothing,” he agreed. “One might as well be in the hands of Fate.”
He took a chair at the head of the couch and Aunt Philomela picking up a bit of lace upon which she was at work sat by the window and proceeded still further to symbolize Fate.
“It’s been very dull in Alaska these last three days,” he observed.
“In Alaska?”
“Downstairs is Alaska,” he explained.
“But Aunty says that between father and Carl, you’ve been very busy.”
“I’ve had a great many things to think about,” he admitted. “One of them concerns your father.”
“Daddy?”
Aunt Philomela glanced up from her knitting.
“Yes,” he nodded, “it may be necessary for me to make my excuses and leave before very long.”