“You are to remain with us?” He asked the question as one might ask it of a perfect stranger.
“Yes.”
“Your room is ready, I believe. Maria.”
“Yes, sir.” Maria stepped to his side.
“You will see to everything, Maria.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Martin!” Dr. Crossett could contain himself no longer. “Is this the way you meet, you two?”
“Why not?” Lola looked up at him coldly. “We understand one another quite well, I think.”
“I think so,” replied her father, “but I must be sure. I must speak with you alone.”
“Come, John. Come, Maria.” Dr. Crossett went with them to the door, but the sight of those two, father and daughter, coldly facing one another, was more than he could bear, and he returned to Dr. Barnhelm and, putting both hands on his shoulders, spoke to him with all his tenderness, all his love for them, and for the dead mother to whom this sight would have been so terrible, in his voice.