And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. ” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. Everything is being done that can be. Mother and Son XI. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor.
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