Dysart lit a cigarette, still smiling, then shrugged and turned as
though to go. Around them through the smoke rose the laughing clamour of
young men gathering at the exit.

"I want to tell you something," said Grandcourt heavily. "I'm an ass to
do it, but I want to tell you."

Dysart halted patiently.

"It's this," went on Grandcourt: "between you and my mother, I've never
had a chance; she makes me out a fool and you have always assumed it to
be true."

Dysart glanced at him with amused contempt.

A heavy flush rose to Grandcourt's cheek-bones. He said slowly:

"I want my chance. You had better let me have it when it comes."

"What chance do you mean?"

"I mean--a woman. All my life you've been at my elbow to step in. You
took what you wanted--your shadow always falls between me and anybody
I'm inclined to like.... It happened to-night--as usual.... And I tell
you now, at last, I'm tired of it."

"What a ridiculous idea you seem to have of me," began Dysart, laughing.

"I'm afraid of you. I always was. Now--let me alone!"