to
her with anguish had she felt such a throe of tenderness.

She turned away after a moment and let Rosa help her to undress; then as
soon as she was alone blew out the shaded candle and stole again towards
the bed.

A clear September moon had risen. It shone in upon the veiled bed and
made it gleam mysteriously--made it look like a shrine. The curtains had
a holy whiteness in the moonlight.

Sophy went and knelt down beside it, and as she knelt there Bobby
stirred, lifted himself on his elbow.

"Mother...?" he said.

"Yes, darling. I'm here ... just saying my prayers."

He gave a little smothered whoop of joy, and scrambled to the edge of
the bed, dragging up the netting that divided them. He shook the loose
folds down behind her, and threw both arms around her neck, hugging her
head tight against him. The warm, lovely perfume of a sleepy child
enfolded her. It was like the very essence of love enfolding her.

She had to explain everything to him before he would let her go. Then he
began pleading: "Don't send me back to my room _right_ away, mother....
I know it was rather girly of me to come and get in your bed like
this.... But Rosa's a good old sort. She won't peach on me.... And I
think it's rather natural, a chap being a bit girly about his mother
when he thinks things might have happened to her, don't you?"

Sophy said that indeed she did, and that he should stay with her till
morning--that it made her feel ever so much happier and safer to have
him near her. Bobby snuggled down blissfully, keeping her hand in both
his.

"After all," he said, "though I'm not grown, I'm the only _man_ you've
got.... It's nice to have a man awfully anxious about you, ain't it,
mother?"

"Ah, yes, indeed it is!" she murmured.

He was silent for a few seconds; then he said:

"I _am_ the only man you've got ... really, ain't I, mother?"

Sophy's heart stabbed. She put her other arm about him.

"Yes, Bobby--yes, darling," she said, holding him to her.

"I like awfully being your only man," he murmured. "I ... I like the
'sponsibility."

"Dear heart!..." she murmured back, her lips on his curls.

He gave another of his snuggling wriggles of content, and was silent
again. She thought he was dozing off, when he said suddenly in a
by-the-way tone:

"I say, mother--is Marchese Amaldi married?"

Sophy's heart stabbed again. Why did the boy ask this?

"Yes, dear. Why?" she said.

"Oh ... nothing in particlar," rep