give me a chance to explain..."

She looked at him gently, wondering a little at her own
impatience.

"Owen! Don't I always want to give you every chance? It's
because I DO that I wanted to talk to your grandmother
first--that I was waiting and watching for the right
moment..."

"The right moment? So was I. That's why I've spoken." His
voice rose again and took the sharp edge it had in moments
of high pressure.

His step-mother turned away and seated herself in her sofa-
corner. "Oh, my dear, it's not a privilege to quarrel over!
You've taken a load off my shoulders. Sit down and tell me
all about it."

He stood before her, irresolute. "I can't sit down," he
said.

"Walk about, then. Only tell me: I'm impatient."

His immediate response was to throw himself into the
armchair at her side, where he lounged for a moment without
speaking, his legs stretched out, his arms locked behind his
thrown-back head. Anna, her eyes on his face, waited
quietly for him to speak.