The loveliness of that land of love seemed to have changed, though the change, she then recognised, was in herself. But at least the walk-up was unaltered. In the grimy entrance was Mrs. Yallum, a fat Finn, who looked like a dirty horse, and who yapped at her volubly, incomprehensibly, but with such affection that Cassy, yapping back, felt less lonely as she ascended the stair. The comfort was mediocre. In the afternoon she had gone from a ruin. Now she had the sensation of entering another, one from which she had also gone, but to which she was returning and with a spirit so dulled in the journey! Had she, she wondered, any spirit left at all? At least enough remained to prevent any wish for the reconstruction of the ruin behind her. About the fallen walls were forms of filth; in the crevices there were vermin, and though, before her, the desert stretched, it was clean. However arid, it was wholesome. But now she was at the door. She let herself in, hurried to the living-room, where, with the feigned cheerfulness of the unselfish, she beamed at her father and bent over him. "Here I am to look after you again! How well you look. I am so glad and oh! where is your sling?" In speaking she stroked him. His skin was clearer, she thought, and the abandoned sling was a relief. He looked up at her. "You got married without me. I ought to have been there. Why didn't you tell me? It was for me to give you away. Who did?" "Who did what?" "Who gave you in marriage?" With the mimic of gaiety, Cassy laughed. "Why, you old dear, all that has gone out. Hereabouts, nowadays, a father never goes to a wedding--only to funerals." She paused and, with the idea of breaking it to him in bits, resumed: "Besides, it was all done in a hurry, in too much of a hurry." He took it in, but at the wrong end. "Sick of him already, eh? Well, it isn't because I did not warn you. Where is he?" Cassy moved back. Should she give it to him then or later? But the question, repeating itself, followed her. "Where is your husband?" Now for it, she thought. But at once he switched. "There was nothing in the papers. Why is that? What is that package?" Cassy looked at the bundle which she still held. It gave her courage. "I am not married." For a second he stared. It was obvious that he had not got it. "Where have you been, then?" Cassy fingered the bundle. Always she had hated to explain and of all possible explanations what could be more hateful than this? If only he would guess it, flare up, stamp about, get it over, let it go. But the cup was there and she drank it. "I thought I was married. I am a fool."