“Yes, he is,” said Viscount Hilldale, “but I take no credit for him. Both his parents are incredibly selfish, and any good qualities he has are entirely his own.”
Catherine eyed the man next to her. He truly seemed to believe what he was saying. “Being selfish and being a good father are not mutually exclusive,” she said. “My own father is a good example. He spends most of his time locked away in his study with his books, and when he does emerge he teases us all mercilessly. However, I know for certain that he cares about our safety and happiness, and just knowing that makes a great deal of difference.”
There was no response to Catherine’s explanation, so she added, “It is clear to me that the two of you are remarkably close. Travis is a very lucky child to have such a relationship with his father.”
Before anything else could be said, Travis returned, having rescued the oddly shaped stick from the hedges. “Look at this, Catherine,” he said. “Doesn’t it look kind of like a dog?”
Catherine tilted her head and squinted her eyes, but she could not for the life of her see what Travis saw. “I am afraid I don’t see it,” she admitted.
“Look here,” he said and pointed. “This is his eye, and this part where it splits is where his snout is.”
Once he pointed it out, Catherine said, “I see now. I was looking for a whole dog, but this is the perfect shape to be a profile of a dog’s head.”
“What is a profile?” asked Travis.
She quickly explained, using her own head as an example. Travis understood immediately. He said, “I wonder if we can find a branch that looks like your profile.”
“That would be a strange shape for a branch to have,” said Catherine, “but it wouldn’t hurt to look.”
Their walk continued for another half hour, though Travis never did find a branch the shape of Catherine’s face.
