He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. I won’t try. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. What did you do when your father went on trips to other islands?" "Took off my shoes and stockings and played in the lagoon. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant.
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