elf-deception at last. But there are
details to be considered, and, as I leave here early to-morrow morning,
I think you'll feel with me it's desirable we should have our talk out.
There are a good many eventualities for which it's only reasonable and
prudent to make provision on the eve of an indefinitely long absence.
Practically a good many people are dependent on me, one way and
another, and I don't consider it honourable to leave their affairs at
loose ends, however uncertain my own future may be."

Richard's voice had still that rasping quality, while his bearing was
instinct with a coldly dominating, and almost aggressive, force.
Katherine, though little addicted to fear, felt strangely shaken,
strangely alienated by the dead weight of the personality, by
perception of the innate and tremendous vigour, of this being to whom
she had given birth. She had imagined, specially during the last few
months of happy and intimate companionship, that if ever mother knew
her child, she knew Richard--through and through. But it appeared she
had been mistaken. For here was a new Richard, at once terrible and
magnificent, regarding whom she could predicate nothing with certainty.
He defied her tenderness, he out-paced her imagination, he paralysed
her will. Between his thoughts, desires, intentions, and hers, a blind
blank space had suddenly intruded itself, impenetrable to her thought.
In person he was here close beside her, in mind he was despairingly far
away. And to this last, not only his words, but his manner, his
expression, his singular, yet sombre, beauty, bore convincing
testimony. He had matured with an almost unnatural rapidity, leaving
her far behind. In his presence she felt diffident, mentally insecure,
even as a child.

She remained standing, holding tightly to the narrow ledge of the
mantelpiece. She felt dazed and giddy as in face of some upheaval, some
cataclysm, of nature. In relation to her son she was conscious, in
truth, that her whole world had suffered shipwreck.

"Where are you going, Dickie?" she asked at last very simply.

"Anywhere and everywhere where amusement, or even the semblance of it,
is to be had," he answered.--"Do you wish to know how long I shall be
away? Just precisely as long as amusement in any form offers itself,
and as my power of being amused remains to me. This strikes you as
slightly ignoble? I am afraid that's a point, my dear mother, upon
which I am supremely indifferent. Yo