moan of pity. She seemed not to understand the young man's allegory, but
yet to feel that it pointed to some great purpose, which must be an evil
one, from being expressed in such a lawless fashion, and to perceive
that Rowland was in some way accountable for it. She looked at him with
a sharp, frank mistrust, and turned away through the open door. Rowland
looked after her with extraordinary interest.





CHAPTER II. Roderick

Early on the morrow Rowland received a visit from his new friend.
Roderick was in a state of extreme exhilaration, tempered, however, by
a certain amount of righteous wrath. He had had a domestic struggle, but
he had remained master of the situation. He had shaken the dust of Mr.
Striker's office from his feet.

"I had it out last night with my mother," he said. "I dreaded the scene,
for she takes things terribly hard. She does n't scold nor storm, and
she does n't argue nor insist. She sits with her eyes full of tears
that never fall, and looks at me, when I displease her, as if I were
a perfect monster of depravity. And the trouble is that I was born to
displease her. She does n't trust me; she never has and she never will.
I don't know what I have done to set her against me, but ever since I
can remember I have been looked at with tears. The trouble is," he went
on, giving a twist to his moustache, "I 've been too absurdly docile.
I 've been sprawling all my days by the maternal fireside, and my dear
mother has grown used to bullying me. I 've made myself cheap! If I 'm