Once when she had kissed him Roger had started slightly back.

For his daughter's lips were rouged, and they had reminded him of his youth.

He had asked her sister to speak to her.

But Deborah had told him she did not care to speak to people in that way--"especially women--especially sisters," she had said, with a quiet smile.

All very well, he reflected, but somebody ought to take Laura in hand.
She had been his favorite as a child, his pet, his tiny daughter.