The Ghost by Arnold Bennet Chapter 16 Page 6

“If you are cursed, I will be cursed,” I said, gazing straight at her, and then I sat down again.

The sobbing gradually ceased. She dried her eyes.

“He is dead,” she said shortly.

I made no response; I had none to make.

“You do not say anything,” she murmured.

“I am sorry. Sir Cyril was the right sort.”

“He was my father,” she said.

“Your father!” I repeated. No revelation could have more profoundly astonished me.

“Yes,” she firmly repeated.

We both paused.