He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. "To be sure I will, my child. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. ‘Here we go again. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. She loved to be told to do things.
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