“Do you mind if I shut the window, father?”
Mr. Stone made a movement of his head, and Cecilia saw that he held a second sheet of paper in his hand. She rose, and, going towards him, said:
“I want to talk to you, Dad!” Taking up the cord of his dressing-gown, she pulled it by its tassel.
“Don't!” said Mr. Stone; “it secures my trousers.”
Cecilia dropped the cord. 'Father is really terrible!' she thought.
Mr. Stone, lifting the second sheet of paper, began again:
“'The reason, however, was not far to seek—-”
Cecilia said desperately:
“It's about that girl who comes to copy for you.”
Mr. Stone lowered the sheet of paper, and stood, slightly curved from head to foot; his ears moved as though he were about to lay them back; his blue eyes, with little white spots of light alongside the tiny black pupils, stared at his daughter.