...
It seemed very long indeed before either of them spoke. At last he said:
"We must talk about these things again, Norah, when we are less tired
and have more time.... You have been reading books.... When Caxton set
up his printing-press he thrust a new power between church and disciple
and father and child.... And I am tired. We must talk it over a little
later."
The girl stood up. She took her father's hands. "Dear, dear Daddy,"
she said, "I am so sorry to be a bother. I am so sorry I went to that
meeting.... You look tired out."
"We must talk--properly," said the bishop, patting one hand, then
discovering from her wincing face that it was the sprained one. "Your
poor wrist," he said.
"It's so hard to talk, but I want to talk to you, Daddy. It isn't that I
have hidden things...."
She kissed him, and the bishop had the odd fancy that she kissed him as
though she was sorry for him....
It occurred to him that really there could be no time like the present
for discussing these "questionings" of hers, and then his fatigue and
shyness had the better of him again.
(11)
The papers got hold of Eleanor's share in the suffragette disturbance.
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