‘Papa will have to explain this to me,’ she reflected.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and waited with a leap of her heart.
Now she would see her father again.
Now everything, which at the moment was rather frightening, would be all right.
The door opened.
Her lips actually moved to exclaim, “Papa!” when she saw that it was not her father who stood there, but a middle-aged man, very smartly dressed.
He had a top hat on the side of his head and a pearl tiepin in his cravat and his clothes were fashionably cut, so that with his gold-topped Malacca cane he seemed strangely out of place in the untidy confusion of the studio.
He walked into the room with an air of authority and for a moment did not see Una standing by the easel.
In fact he walked in the other direction, towards
