Katharine Frensham

Alan, my boy?" ask

uss about nothing. Why can't you and mother have it out like any other fel

fifteen years and more-all

was as bad as t

t you are old enough to know, we are obliged to tell you that we are not, never have be

ther's personality and bearing, he had never been particularly attached to her; but with that conservative conventionalism characterist

n to him. Bitterly the man reproached himself for his selfishness. And yet he had waited for this moment for fifteen long years-more than that; for he and his wife had discovered at the onset that they

s or unconscious, of one individuality with another individuality. And she gives no balm for it. On the contrary, she gives a sort of mo

over him and put his ha

We will talk about it another time. Come, pull yourself to

on as though he

ifford Tho

up, and stifl

ding," he said. "I wan

did not seem ashamed of his tears; he offered

father," he said w

ive myself. I have taken away from you something which I can never give ba

and watched the door close, and then stood still a moment, waiting, longing, and listening. But when he realised that the boy had indeed gone, he slipped into his study chair and leaned back, his arms folded tightly together, and his thin face drawn into an expre

"It's all right now. Let

s face relaxed. Father