and he sighed when he considered the burden of answering them) and the arrangements he had made for the funeral. Then they went back into his study. This was the only room in the house which had a fire. He mechanically took from the chimney-piece his pipe and began to fill it, but he gave his daughter a doubtful look and put it down.
“Aren’t you going to smoke?” she asked.
“Your mother didn’t very much like the smell of a pipe after dinner and since the war I’ve given up cigars.”
His answer gave Kitty a little pang. It seemed dreadful that a man of sixty should hesitate to smoke what he wanted in his own study.
“I like the smell of a pipe,” she smiled.
A faint look of relief crossed his face and taking his pipe once more he lit it. They sat opposite one another on each side of the fire. He felt that he must talk to Kitty of her own troubles.
“You received the letter your mother wrote to you to Port Saïd, I suppose. The news of poor Walter’s death was a great shock to both of us. I thought him a very nice fellow.”
Kitty did not know what to say.
“Your mother told me that you were going to have a baby.”
“When do you expect it?”
“In about four months.”
“It will be a great consolation to you. You must go and see Doris’s boy. He’s a fine little fellow.”
