Days passed, the house growing less homely and more formal as the week grew older. Emilia’s foster father had kept himself to his bed chambers, only to be attended to by Nancy and Maria. Maria herself...a few hesitant sips. “Whoever that girl’s mother is,” he said to himself between sips, “I’m sure I would like to meet her.” He resumed reading his newspaper. "What a woman she would be."     *   *   *