A tall, humorless looking man with a floppy old shapeless hat perched on his head and a thick canvas bag on his back. Wild locks of rust-brown hair st...ck out where his hat couldn’t quite contain them. He was dressed in a rich but patched tunic. A petite young woman, with deep brown tresses and about seventeen or eighteen summers of age, walked along beside him. She wore a dress that once was very expensive, but like the man’s tunic was in need of some repair. ‘Top o’the mornin to ye lad, d’ye. At that moment, it dawned on me that Dad must be having troubling thoughts - incestuous - about me; that would certainly account for his reluctance. But if that was the case, I wasn't sure that we should go on. Having fantasies was one thing, but revealing them to each other was another matter - with luck, it would probably lead to the fruition of these fantasies."What IS your problem, my dear father?"Dad threw up his arms in resignation. "Oh, what the heck! I might as well tell you." Taking a. More

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