‘No.’
‘I was there. We talked about you. My father has a notion you haven’t been quite well lately. I dare say you’re worrying a little, eh?’
Sidney remained standing by the fireplace, turned so that his face was in shadow.
‘Worry? Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, idly.
‘Well, I’m worried a good deal, Sidney, and that’s the fact.’
‘What about?’
‘All sorts of things. I’ve meant to have a long talk with you; but then I don’t quite know how to begin. Well, see, it’s chiefly about Jane.’
Sidney neither moved nor spoke.
‘After all, Sidney,’ resumed the other, softening his voice, ‘I am her father, you see. A precious bad one I’ve been, that there’s no denying, and dash it if I don’t sometimes feel ashamed of myself. I do when she speaks to me in that pleasant way she has—you know what I mean. For all that, I am her father, and I think it’s only right I should do my best to make her happy. You agree with that, I know.’
‘Certainly I do.’