Francis Armour's name had seldom been mentioned, and never in connection
with the child. The child's mother asked the question with a strange
quietness. Richard answered it without hesitation.

"The child looks like Frank," he said. "As like him as can be."

"I am glad," she said, "for all your sakes."

"You are very deep this morning, Lali," Richard said, with a kind of
helplessness. "Frank will be pretty proud of the youngster when he comes
back. But he won't be prouder of him than I am."

"I know that," she said. "Won't you be lonely without the boy--and me,
Richard?"

Again the question went home. "Lonely? I should think I would," he
said. "I should think I would. But then, you see, school is over, and
the master stays behind and makes up the marks. You will find London a
jollier master than I am, Lali. There'll be lots of shows, and plenty to
do, and smart frocks, and no end of feeds and frolics; and that is more
amusing than studying three hours a day with a dry old stick like me. I
tell you what, when Frank comes--"

She interrupted him. "Do not speak of that," she said. Then, with a
sudden burst of feeling, though her words were scarcely audible: "I owe
you everything, Richard--everything that is good. I owe him nothing,
Richard--nothing but what is bitter."

"Hush, hush," he said; "you must not speak that way. Lali, I want to say
to you--"