 answered his mother rapidly. »Why should you take it
on yourself? What have you got to do, seeing it through. It will see itself
through. You are not needed.«
    »No, I don't suppose I can do any good,« he answered. »It's just how it
affects us, you see.«
    »You like to be affected - don't you? It's quite nuts for you? You would
have to be important. You have no need to stop at home. Why don't you go away!«
    These sentences, evidently the ripened grain of many dark hours, took Gerald
by surprise.
    »I don't think it's any good going away now, mother, at the last minute,« he
said coldly.
    »You take care,« replied his mother. »You mind yourself - that's your
business. You take too much on yourself. You mind yourself, or you'll find
yourself in Queer Street, that's what will happen to you. You're hysterical,
always were.«
    »I'm all right, mother,« he said. »There's no need to worry about me, I
assure you.«
    »Let the dead bury their dead - don't go and bury yourself along with them -
that's what I tell you. I know you well enough.«
    He did not answer this, not knowing what to say. The mother sat bunched up
in silence, her beautiful white hands, that had no rings whatsoever, clasping
the pommels of her arm-chair.
    »You can't do it,« she said, almost bitterly. »You haven't the nerve. You're
as weak as a cat, really - always were. Is this young woman staying here?«
    »No,« said Gerald. »She is going home to-night.«
    »Then she'd better have the dog-cart. Does she go far?«
    »Only to Beldover.«
    »Ah!« The elderly woman never looked at Gudrun, yet she seemed to take
knowledge of her presence.
    »You are inclined to take too much on yourself, Gerald,« said the mother,
pulling herself to her feet, with a little difficulty.
    »Will you go, mother?« he asked politely.
    »Yes, I'll go up again,« she replied. Turning to Gudrun, she bade her
Good-night. Then she went slowly to
