Faith did not make any answer.  There was a queer, dull, almost stupid look on her face.  She moved half-mechanically about the room, getting her father's breakfast and pouring it out for him as if nothing had happened.  When she gave him his cup of hot coffee, she even seated herself in her accustomed place opposite.  Roy's little empty chair was pushed against the wall.  Faith moved her own so that her eyes should not rest on this symbol of the lost child.