hands. "Why, you are my boy, Georgy. You are all I have!"

He looked at the face, curiously pinched and drawn as if by death, that
was turned up to his, and shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "Now
this is exactly what I tried to escape yesterday. Am I never to be a
man, nor have the rights of a man? You must accept the situation,
mother. Lisa is my wife, and dearer to me than all the world beside."

He saw her lips move. "Dearer? Dearer than me!" She sat quite still
after that, and did not seem to hear when he spoke. Something in her
silence frightened him. She certainly had been a fond, indulgent
mother, and he perhaps had been abrupt in cutting the tie between them.
It must be cut. He had promised Lisa the whole matter should be
settled to-day. But his mother certainly was a weak woman, and he must
be patient with her. Secretly he approved the manliness of his
patience.

"The cab is waiting, dear," he said. She rose and walked to the
street, standing helpless there while the crowd jostled her. Was she
blind and deaf? He put her into the cab and sat down opposite to her.
"Half Moon Street," he called to the driver.

"Mother," touching her on the knee.

"Yes, George."

"I told him to drive to Half Moon Street. I will take you to Clara
Vance. We may as well arrange things now, finally. You do not like my
wife. That is clear. For the present, therefore, it is better that we
should separate. I have consulted with Lisa, and she has suggested
that you shall join Clara Vance's party while we go our own way."

She stared at him. "Do you mean that you and I are not to see London
together? Not to travel through Europe together?"

He pitied her a little, and, leaning forward, kissed her clammy lips.
"The thing will seem clearer to you to-morrow, no doubt. I must leave
you now. Go to Clara and her girls. They all like to pet and make
much of you. I will bring Lisa in the morning, to talk business a
little. She has an uncommonly clear head for business. Good-by,
dear!" He stopped the cab, jumped out, and walked briskly to the
corner where his wife was waiting for him.

"You have told her?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes. It's over."

"That we must separate?"

"Yes, yes. I told her you thought it best."

"And she was not willing?"

"Well, she did not approve very cordially," said George, evading her
eye.

"But she shall approve!" hanging upon his arm, her burning eyes close
to his