His face, as
he stooped low, escaped the soft shade and was for a moment almost
ghastly. Every now and then he turned and made some calculations on
the blotting-paper by his side. At last he leaned back with a little
sigh of relief. He had barely done so before the door behind him
was opened.
"Are we going to stay in here, Mummy, or are we going into the
drawing-room?" Nora asked.
"In here, I think," he heard Philippa reply.
Then they both came in, followed by Helen. Nora was the first to
see him and rushed forward with a little cry of surprise.
"Why, here's Dad!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck.
"Daddy, how dare you be sitting here all by yourself whilst we are
having dinner! When did you get back? What a fish!"
Sir Henry closed down his desk, embraced his daughter, and came
forward to meet his wife.
"Fine fellow, isn't he, Nora!" he agreed. "Well, Philippa, how are
you? Pleased to see me, I hope? Another new frock, I believe, and
in war time!"
"Fancy your remembering that it was war time!" she answered, standing
very still while he leaned over and kissed her.
"Nasty one for me," Sir Henry observed good-humouredly. "How well
you're looking, Helen! Any news of Dick yet?"
Helen attempted an expression of extreme gravity with more or less
success.
"Nothing fresh," she answered.
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