But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. . He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. They almost made me feel like they were mine. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. . I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol.
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