When Henry Sullivan returned in the evening, it was already seven-thirty.
Ivy Miller had already eaten dinner; she hadn't waited for him, intentionally.
"Captain, you're back! I've served your dinner, and I'll be heading out now. Enjoy!"
Upon hearing the housekeeper say she was leaving again, Ivy frowned and said, "Ma'am, are you going home tonight?"
The housekeeper smiled and said, "Ivy, my family has some matters I have to handle these days.
Tonight you'll have to bear with it. I'll try to come back early in the morning."
"Oh, it's okay, Ma'am, just take care of what you need to do."
The housekeeper smiled, served the meal, and then left.
Henry Sullivan walked alone to the dining table and sat down: "Ah, it's so pitiful. I wonder when my daughter will grow up to where she can keep her father company at dinner."
Ivy pretended not to have heard him. She stood up, holding the child, and entered the bedroom.
