She had dainty tricks of dress.

She flitted, an agreeable vision, about his house.

He liked to hear her play the piano, not because he had any ear for music, but because it tickled his vanity to reflect that he, the agricultural labourer's son and apprentice to a village carpenter, was the possessor both of a Broadway Grand and of a daughter who, entirely through his efforts, had learned to play on it.

Like most of his political type, he wallowed in his own peculiar snobbery.

But of anything like companionship between father and daughter there had existed very little.