Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. You can enjoy him and then drink him up.
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