Hisfacewassuddenlylivid，hiseyesfulloffierceanger。Hislipstwitched。Hestruckthetablebeforehim。
“Beastofawoman！“heshouted。“Youghoul！Howdareyou！Howdareyou-“
Hestoppedshort。Hepassedhishandacrosshisforehead。Allthetimethewomanremainedunmoved。
“Doyouknow，“hemuttered，hisvoicestillshakingalittle，“thatIbelievesometimesIamafraidofyou？Howwouldyouliketoseemethere，eh，downatthebottomofthathungrysea？Youwatchsometimessofixedly。You’dmissme，wouldn’tyou？Iamagoodmaster，youknow。Ipaywell。You’vebeenwithmeagoodmanyyears。Youwereadifferentsortofwomanwhenyoufirstcame。“
“Yes，“sheadmitted，“Iwasadifferentsortofwoman。“
“Youdon’trememberthosedays，Isuppose，“hewenton，“thedayswhenyouhadbrownhair，whenyouusedtocarryrosesaboutandsingtoyourselfwhileyoubeatyourworkoutofthatwretchedtypewriter？“
“No，“sheanswered，“Idonotrememberthosedays。Theydonotbelongtome。Itissomeotherwomanyouarethinkingof。“
Theireyesmet。Mr。Fentolinturnedawayfirst。Hestruckthebellathiselbow。Sheroseatonce。
“Beoff！“heordered。“Whenyoulookatmelikethat，yousendshiversthroughme！You’llhavetogo；Icanseeyou’llhavetogo。
Ican’tkeepyouanylonger。Youaretheonlypersononthefaceoftheearthwhodarestosaythingstomewhichmakemethink，theonlypersonwhodoesn’tshrinkatthesoundofmyvoice。You’llhavetogo。SendSarsontomeatonce。You’veupsetme！“
Shelistenedtohiswordsinexpressionlesssilence。Whenhehadfinished，carryingherbookinherhand，sheveryquietlymovedtowardsthedoor。Hewatchedher，leaningalittleforwardinhischair，hislipsparted，hiseyesthreatening。Shewalkedwithsteady，evenfootsteps。Shecarriedherselfwithalmostmachine-likeerectness；herskirtswerenoiseless。Shehadthetrickofturningthehandleofthedoorinperfectsilence。Heheardhercalmvoiceinthehall。
“DoctorSarsonistogotoMr。Fentolin。“
Mr。Fentolinsatquitestill，feelinghisownpulse。
“Thatwoman，“hemutteredtohimself，“that-woman-somedayI
shouldn’tbesurprisedifshereally-“
Hepaused。Thedoctorhadenteredtheroom。
“Iamupset，Sarson，“hedeclared。“Comeandfeelmypulsequickly。
Thatwomanhasupsetme。“
“MissPrice？“
“MissPrice，d-nit！Lucy-yes！“
“Itseemsunlikeher，“thedoctorremarked。“Ihaveneverheardherutterauselesssyllableinmylife。“
Mr。Fentolinheldouthiswrist。
“It’swhatshedoesn’tsay，“hemuttered。
Thedoctorproducedhiswatch。Inlessthanaminuteheputitaway。
“Thisisquiteunnecessary，“hepronounced。“Yourpulseiswonderful。“
“Nothurried？Nosignsofpalpitation？“
“Youhavesevenoreightfootmen，allyoungmen，“DoctorSarsonreplieddrily。“Iwillwagerthatthereisn’toneofthemhasapulsesovigorousasyours。“
Mr。Fentolinleanedalittlebackinhischair。Anexpressionofsatisfactioncreptoverhisface。
“Youreassureme，mydearSarson。Thatisexcellent。Whatofourpatient？“
“Thereisnochange。“
“Iamafraid，“Mr。Fentolinsighed，“thatweshallhavetroublewithhim。Thesestrongpeoplealwaysgivetrouble。“
“Itwillbejustthesameinthelongrun，“thedoctorremarked，shrugginghisshoulders。
Mr。Fentolinhelduphisfinger。
“Listen！Amotor-car，Ibelieve？“
“ItisMissFentolinwhoisjustarriving，“thedoctorannounced。
“IsawthecarcomingasIcrossedthehall。“
Mr。Fentolinnoddedgently。
“Indeed？“hereplied。“Indeed？Somydearniecehasreturned。
Openthedoor，friendSarson。Openthedoor，ifyouplease。Shewillbeanxioustoseeme。Wemustsummonher。“
Mr。Fentolinraisedtohislipsthelittlegoldwhistlewhichhungfromhisneckandblewit。Heseemedtodevoteverylittleefforttotheoperation，yetthestrengthofthenotewaswonderful。Astheechoesdiedaway，heletitfallbyhissideandwaitedwithapleasedsmileuponhislips。Inafewsecondstherewasthehurriedflutterofskirtsandthesoundoffootsteps。Thegirlwhohadjustcompletedherrailwayjourneyentered，followedbyherbrother。Theywerebothalittleoutofbreath，theybothapproachedthechairwithoutasmile，thegirlinadvance，withacertainexpressionofapprehensioninhereyes。Mr。Fentolinsighed。
Heappearedtonoticethesethingsandregretthem。
“Mychild，“hesaid，holdingouthishands，“mydearEsther，welcomehomeagain！Iheardthecaroutside。Iamgrievedthatyoudidnotatoncehurrytomyside。“
“Ihavenotbeeninthehousetwominutes，“Estherreplied，“andI
haven’tseenmotheryet。Forgiveme。“
Shehadcometoastandstillafewyardsaway。Shemovednowveryslowlytowardsthechair，withtheairofonefulfillingahatefultask。Thefingerswhichacceptedhishandswereextendedalmosthesitatingly。Hedrewherclosertohimandheldherthere。
“Yourmother，mydearEsther，is，Iregrettosay，sufferingfromaslightindisposition，“heremarked。“Shehasbeenconfinedtoherroomforthelastfewdays。Justatriflingaffairofthenerves；nothingmore，DoctorSarsonassuresme。Butmydearchild，“
hewenton，“yourfingersareascoldasice。Youlookatmesostrangely，too。Alas！youhavenottheaffectionatedispositionofyourdearmother。Onewouldscarcelybelievethatwehavebeenpartedformorethanaweek。“
“Formorethanaweek，“sherepeated，underherbreath。
“Stoopdown，mydear。Imustkissyourforehead-there！Nowbringupachairtomyside。Youseemfrightened-alarmed。Haveyouillnewsforme？“
“Ihavenonews，“sheanswered，graduallyrecoveringherself。
“ThegaietiesofLondon，Ifear，“heprotestedgently，“haveprovedalittleunsettling。“
“Therewerenogaietiesforme，“thegirlrepliedbitterly。“Mrs。
Sargentobeyedyourordersveryfaithfully。Iwasnotallowedtomoveoutexceptwithher。“
“Mydearchild，youwouldnotgoaboutLondonunchaperoned！“
“Thereisadifference，“sheretorted，“betweenachaperonandajailer。“
Mr。Fentolinsighed。Heshookhisheadslowly。Heseemedpained。
“Iamnotsurethatyourepaymycareasitdeserves，Esther，“hedeclared。“Thereissomethinginyourdeportmentwhichdisappointsme。Nevermind，yourbrotherhasmadesomeatonement。IentrustedhimwithalittlemissioninwhichIamgladtosaythathehasbeenbrilliantlysuccessful。“
“IcannotsaythatIamgladtohearit，“Estherrepliedquietly。
Mr。Fentolinsatbackinhischair。Hislongfingersplayednervouslytogether，helookedathergravely。
“Mydearchild，“heexclaimed，inatoneofpainedsurprise，“yourattitudedistressesme！“
“Icannothelpit。IhavetoldyouwhatIthinkaboutGeraldandthelifeheiscompelledtolivehere。Idon’tmindsomuchformyself，butforhimIthinkitisabominable。“
“Thesameasever，“Mr。Fentolinsighed。“Ifearthatthislittlechangehasdoneyounogood，dearniece。
“Change！“sheechoed。“Itwasonlyachangeofprisons。“
Mr。Fentolinshookhisheadslowly-adistressfulgesture。Yetallthetimehehadsomehowtheairofamansecretlygratified。
“Youarebeginningtodepressme，“heannounced。“Ithinkthatyoucangoaway。No，stopforjustonemoment。Standthereinthelight。Dearme，howunfortunate！Whowouldhavethoughtthatsobeautifulamothercouldhavesoplainadaughter！“
Shestoodquitestillbeforehim，herhandscrossedinfrontofher，somethingofthelookofthenunfromwhomthepowerofsufferinghasgoneinherstill，coldfaceandsteadfasteyes。
“Notatouchofcolour，“hecontinuedmeditatively，“afigurestraightasmywalking-stick。Whatapity！Andallthetaste，nowadays，theytellme，isintheotherdirection。Thelankdamselshavegonecompletelyout。WeburiedthemwithOscarWilde。
