Nor was there any sound.
"Dad," she cried, "are you here ?" He rose slowly from a high-backed chair beside the fire.
"It is you," he said.

He seemed a little dazed.
She ran to him and, seizing his listless arms, put them round her.
"Give me a hug, Dad," she commanded.

"A real hug." He held her to him for what seemed a long while.

There was strength in his arms, in spite of the bowed shoulders and white hair.
"I was afraid you had forgotten how to do it," she laughed, when at last he released her.

"Do you know, you haven't hugged me, Dad, since I was five years old.