She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. But he was not a father one could make much of. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. It was excellently done, especially as she loved good dinners.
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