Hancock Manor.
Ave Carlisle looked at the familiar gatehouse with mixed feelings.
The architecture of Hancock Manor was predominantly Chinese, with flying eaves and towering pavilions, a splendid sight. It was said to have once been a princely estate before changing hands down the generations to take on its current form.
The old gatekeeper, surnamed Armstrong, was a long-standing servant of Hancock Manor. He recognized Ave as the doctor who used to consult for the old madame.
"Dr. Carlisle, it has been a long time since I saw you. Are you here to take the old madame's pulse again?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Armstrong, hello," she replied.
"Ah, Dr. Carlisle, is this a doll you bought to give to the old madame?" he inquired.
Mr. Armstrong's eyesight was not good, and it had worsened over the years. He mistook Emma for a toy.
Ave Carlisle stared at Mr. Armstrong, speechless, then said, "Mr. Armstrong, this is my daughter Emma. Emma, call him Grandfather Armstrong."
