As I focused on my goal, I caught movement from the dining room doors and glanced that way in time to see Dad and Malcolm Murray emerging from the quiet of the hall. For a moment they paused, Malcolm's hand on Dad's arm and my father actually waiting, head down, listening as The Orange's Irish owner whispered something to him. Dad shook his head and walked away at last, leaving Malcolm to stare after him with a sad look on his face. I swerved without thinking, crossing to join him ...