"Did you hear me? Luckily, Cecilia proved my innocence."
Ian Quincy asked, "How did her dad find out?"
Jim Quincy lost his nerve. "It wasn't me, all right? Just take good care of Cecilia." He turned to leave. If he stayed any longer, he was afraid his blockheaded son would make him swear an oath that he had nothing to do with the matter.
...
Cecilia Adler felt relaxed all over after her bath.
She changed into clean clothes and came into the living room, her hair wrapped in a towel.
Ian Quincy pointed to the chicken soup. "Want some? It's still hot."
"I'll have a little." Cecilia Adler was starting to feel hungry, so she sat down at the dining table.
Ian Quincy ladled a bowl for her. The creamy white broth, sprinkled with green onions, looked delicious. She took a sip—it was savory and fragrant. "Mom's soup is better than mine," she said. "I wonder what ingredients she uses to get the broth so white, almost like fish soup. I'll have to learn how to make it for you sometime."
