hysterical tears. A couple of such tempests formed part of Keith's
earliest reliable memories.



VII

As a rule Keith slept far too soundly to be aroused by anything. One
night, however, there was so much loud talking in the room that he woke
up completely. For a while he lay quite still, but with wide-open
eyes and ears.

The big lamp had been placed on the washstand back of the chaiselongue
on which he was lying, evidently in order to prevent its light from
falling on his face.

His mother was seated, fully dressed, on the edge of the bed across the
room. Her face was white as snow. Her eyes blazed with a sort of cold
fire. Her whole body seemed to tremble with a feeling so tense that he
could not find words for it.

The father was leaning far backwards on an ordinary chair, with his
outstretched right arm resting on the dining table. His face was flushed
and the thick fringe of black hair about the bald top of his head was
slightly disordered. He tried to smile, but the smile turned into a
grin. When he spoke, his voice was a little thick.

"I can't keep entirely away from my comrades." he said. "They think
already that I am too stuck up to associate with them. I haven't been
out for two weeks. I haven't had a drop more tonight than I can stand.