to escape yesterday. Am I never to be a man, nor have
the rights of a man? You must accept the situation,
mother. Lisa is my wife, and dearer to me than all the
world beside."

He saw her lips move. "Dearer? Dearer than me!"
She sat quite still after that, and did not seem to hear
when he spoke. Something in her silence frightened him.
She certainly had been a fond, indulgent mother, and he
perhaps had been abrupt in cutting the tie between them.
It must be cut. He had promised Lisa the whole matter
should be settled to-day. But his mother certainly
was a weak woman, and he must be patient with her.
Secretly he approved the manliness of his patience.

"The cab is waiting, dear," he said. She rose and walked
to the street, standing helpless there while the crowd
jostled her. Was she blind and deaf? He put her into
the cab and sat down opposite to her. "Half Moon
Street," he called to the driver.

"Mother," touching her on the knee.

"Yes, George."

"I told him to drive to Half Moon Street. I will take
you to Clara Vance. We may as well arrange things now,
finally. You do not like my wife. That is clear. For
the present, therefore, it is better that we should
separate. I have consulted with Lisa, and she has