And there was such a hurt, sorry look away back in his eyes.

But right away he smiled, and said: "But _you_ came! I've got _you_." Then he began to talk and tell stories, just as if I was a young lady to be entertained.

And he took me over to where they had things to eat, and just heaped my plate with chicken patties and sandwiches and olives and pink-and-white frosted cakes and ice-cream (not all at once, of course, but in order).

And I had a perfectly beautiful time.
And Father seemed to like it pretty well.

But after a while he grew sober again, and his eyes began to rove all around the room.
He took me to a little seat in the corner then, and we sat down and began to talk--only Father didn't talk much.