eyes sought those of her son, his tried to evade her gaze.
"I was waiting up for you, Paul. Where have you been?"
He knew instinctively that every word that was not strictly true would be only a useless farce between them; yet he was forced to lie to her.
"I have been with a sick person," he replied quickly.
For an instant his deep voice seemed to disperse the evil dream; for an instant only, and the mother's face was transfigured with joy. Then the shadow fell again on face and heart.
"Paul," she said gently, lowering her eyes with a feeling of shame, but with no hesitation in her speech, "Paul, come nearer to me, I have something to say to you."
And although he moved no nearer to her, she went on speaking in a low voice, as though close to his ear:
"I know where you have been. For many nights now I have heard you go out, and to-
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