“Their hopes are a bit extravagant, I think. I believe that’s Valerie at the piano, isn’t it?”
“I’ve heard she plays well. I don’t think there is anyone else about who does.”
Davenport Carr stood up. “I’ll go up. What time do we get dinner, do you know?”
“A little late, I’m afraid. Mac ordered fresh chickens in your honour.”
“Oh. Will you come upstairs?”
“No, thanks.”
Valerie turned from the piano as her father walked in. “How did you find Bob to-day?” she asked.
“Looks pretty sick, poor chap, beastly thin. But they say he’s getting on. You haven’t been often, Mrs. Lorrimer says.” His keen eyes rested lightly on his daughter as he said it.
Valerie sprang up from the piano stool. “Good Lord, dad, that woman drives me mad. What does she think I do all day and most of the night? I’ve been along on the Sundays, used the only spare hour or two I had. That’s all I could do. She doesn’t know what work means.”
“I suppose she doesn’t.” Davenport Carr settled himself in the most comfortable chair he could find and looked round the dingy sitting-room with amused eyes. “Like all this, Val?”
“Rather awful, isn’t it? But I don’t look at it. You know, dad, it’s wonderful what you can ignore in the world if you know how.”
“Do you think you’re teaching me something?” he asked amiably.
Her eyes twinkled at him. She enjoyed the perfectly arrogant spectacle he made in his swagger tweeds, but she was distressed to see that the folds in his
