Marjorie, who was playing in the yard with Hilary, spotted him immediately.
Looking at Marjorie's exhausted face and his older daughter deliberately turning away, refusing to acknowledge him, Wilfred simply smiled. "You've had a rough time, Marjorie."
"Oh, Mr. Dickerson, it's so good you're back. These past few days without you, I've felt completely lost."
Marjorie sighed with relief.
Wilfred didn't dwell on her grievances. Taking Penelope's hand, he walked into the villa.
"Ow, Hildegarde, easy! That hurts... Those crazy women—if they hadn't been women, I wouldn't have held back. I wouldn't be in this state. Ow, ow..."
Before he even reached the door, Patrick's pitiful wailing echoed from inside.
Penelope covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
Wilfred gave her a light tap on the head, then stepped inside.
In the living room, Patrick sat on the sofa while Hildegarde stood before him, dabbing iodine onto his wounds with a cotton swab.
When Patrick saw Wilfred, a flash of resentment crossed his eyes. Then he immediately leaned closer to Hildegarde, putting on a show of intimacy.