His eyes filled with tears. He seized her in his arms and held her close.
“It's a beastly, beastly shame, darling. Oh, Lord, what a fool a man can make of himself!”
“You must not say such things,” she murmured, stroking his cheek with cold, trembling fingers.
“A fine trick to play on all of us!” he grated.
“Listen, Freddy darling: your father has a right to do as he chooses. He has a right to companionship, to love, to happiness. He has done everything for us that man could——”
“But why couldn't he have done the fine, sensible thing, Lydia? Why couldn't he have—have fallen in love with—with your mother? Why not have married her if he had to marry someone in——”
“Freddy!” she cried, putting her hand over his mouth.
He was not to be stopped. He gently removed her hand.
“Your mother is the finest woman in the world. Perhaps she wouldn't have him, but that's not the point. Good Lord, how I would have loved him for giving her to me as a mother. And here he comes, bringing some devil of a stranger into—oh, it's sickening!”
He had lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, keeping his eyes fixed on the door down the hall. The girl lay very still in his arms. Suddenly a wild sob broke in her throat, and she buried her face on his shoulder.