and serious Sorrell seemed to be holding him back behind the barrier of those nine years. She had expected difficulties, a course of careful persuasion, and she had prepared herself to be patient.
But to be snubbed by Sorrell's son!
A porter came into the room.
"The car is ready, madam."
She prepared to abandon her strong point and to begin her retreat, and as she passed out through the hotel doorway she became aware of an abrupt and blind rage, the impatience of the woman elemental in her passion to possess. She approached the car. The chauffeur was holding open the door. He touched the peak of his cap.
"Beautiful morning, madam."
"A perfect morning, Gunter."
He arranged a rug over her knees, and closed the door of the saloon, and as he did so a lad in a dark blue gown came round the back of the car and appeared at the window. He raised his mortar-board, and looked unsmilingly at his mother. His lips moved. She leaned forward and lowered the window.
"I thought it was your car. I'm just off to a lecture."
She put out a gloved hand, and her face had a's oft and secret radiance.
"Be a good boy, my dear. I can see that you are."
He took her hand, but she was aware of the irresponsiveness of his strong young fingers.
"Hope you will have a good drive. London, is it?"
She was all smiles.
"Of course. Now, don't be late for your lecture. Good-bye."
"She nodded to the chauffeur, gave a playful pat to Kit's hand and sat back smiling at him with easy benevolence.
"My address in town is South Audley Street, No. 107. Good-bye."
