The Doctor was silent, and his child respected his silence. The breakfast was ended, and the paper was thrown down.
“I don’t see why you should not know, my dear. You are a woman now, and thinking about such things.”
Veronica looked across at him wonderingly.
“You asked me why I left England, or some such question. It was because of the woman I loved, my dear.”
“Mamma? To join her at Iquique?”
“No,” said the Doctor thoughtfully; “it was before I knew of her existence.”
“Ah, papa!”
“Yes, my dear. I was desperately in love with a lady before I knew your dear mother.”
Veronica rose with wondering eyes, and knelt down beside her father, resting her elbows on his knees and gazing up in his face.
“Do people—? You loved mamma very dearly, papa?” she whispered.