The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Certain reserves went down on both sides. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. “No,” she answered. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by.
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