ry, lean face has flushed, and the blue eyes were protuberant
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Ella says: 'I suppose I ought to say I'm sorry-but I want to know about her. She was my mother after all.'
'I don't think of her. Not for years. I think of her sometimes when you do me the honour of a visit.'
'Is that why I feel you don't like seeing me much?' says Ella, but smiling and forcing him to look at her.
'I never said that, did I? I don't feel it. But all these family ties-family stuff, marriage, that sort of thing, it seems pretty unreal to me. You're my daughter, so I believe. Must be, knowing your mother. I don't feel it. Blood ties-do you feel it? I don't.'
'Yes,' says Ella. 'When I'm here with you, I feel some sort of a bond. I don't know what.'
'No, I don't either.' The old man has recovered himself, and is again in a remote place, safe from the hurt of personal emotions. 'We're human beings-whatever that may mean. I don't know. I'm pleased to see you
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