She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind.
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