Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. He had this thing for his twin daughters. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught.
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