Arthur was skeptical, but it was hard not to cherish this fresh hope that his daughter had been transformed, when she looked and behaved so much like the elegant young lady he had wanted her to be. She looked like her mother. He had always known it rationally, given the shape of her face, her eyes, the colour of her hair. But this was the first time he saw it. And despite their history of conflict, despite his apprehension, which he tried desperately to keep alive, he burned with pride.

"I'm very well, thank you. Very pleased to see you, my dear child." But he chuckled. "No, I shouldn't say it anymore. What a graceful young lady you have become. You look so much like your mother." He held out his arm, and if she took it, he led her up the steps. As they passed them, the servants bowed or curtsied. Arthur had hoped that all the pomp for the return of the eldest McPadraic daughter would flatter its object into acting the part.