blue eyes. She stood, with the sponge at her neck, looking full at him. Siegmund felt himself shrinking. The child’s look was steady, calm, inscrutable.
“Hello!” said her father. “Are you here!”
The child, without altering her expression in the slightest, turned her back on him, and continued wiping her neck. She dropped the sponge in the water and took the towel from off the side of the bath. Then she turned to look again at Siegmund, who stood in his pyjamas before her, his mouth shut hard, but his eyes shrinking and tender. She seemed to be trying to discover something in him.
“Have you washed your ears?” he said gaily.
She paid no heed to this, except that he noticed her face now wore a slight constrained smile as she looked at him. She was shy. Still she continued to regard him curiously.
“There is some chocolate on my dressing-table,” he said.
“Where have you been to?” she asked suddenly.
“To the seaside,” he answered, smiling.
“To Brighton?” she asked. Her tone was still condemning.
“Much farther than that,” he replied.
“To Worthing?” she asked.
“Farther—in a steamer,” he replied.
“But who did you go with?” asked the child.
“Why, I went all by myself,” he answered.
“Twuly?” she asked.
“Weally and twuly,” he answered, laughing.
“Couldn’t you take me?” she asked.
“I will next time,” he replied.
The child still looked at him, unsatisfied.
