“Three whole precious minutes,” repeated Sibyl. “What is it, father?”
“I am thinking of something,” he said.
“What?” asked the girl.
“For these three minutes, one hundred and eighty seconds, you and I are to all intents and purposes alone in the world.”
“Father! why, so we are,” she cried. “Mother’s not here, we are all alone. Nothing matters, does it, when we are alone together?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t look quite well, dear father.”
“I have been having some suffering lately, and am worried about things, those sort of things that don’t come to little girls.”
“Of course they don’t, father, but when I’m a woman I’ll have them. I’ll take them instead of you.”
“Now listen, my darling.”