It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society.
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