She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence.
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