” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. . ‘You can’t prove nothing. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. He left Remenham House immediately after his wife died, giving birth to their daughter. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship.
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