d live a secluded life, from which
must be kept as far as possible anything that could agitate or distress
her, and after that there was nothing more that could be done except
to wait for the inevitable development of her malady. This might come
quickly or slowly; there was no means of forecasting that, though the
rapid deterioration of her brain, which had taken place during those
last two months, made it, on the whole, likely that the progress of the
disease would be swift. It was quite possible, on the other hand, that
it might remain stationary for months. . . . And in answer to a question
of Michael's, Sir James had looked at him a moment in silence. Then he
answered.

"Both for her sake and for the sake of all of you," he had said, "one
hopes that it will be swift."

Lord Ashbridge had just telephoned that he was coming round to see
Michael, a message that considerably astonished him, since it would have
been more in his manner, in the unlikely event of his wishing to see his
son, to have summoned him to the house in Curzon Street. However, he had
announced his advent, and thus, waiting for him, and not much concerning
himself about that, Michael let the future map itself. Already it was
sharply defined, its boundaries and limits were clear, and though it was
yet untravelled it presented to him a familiar aspect, and he felt that
he could find his allotted road without fail, though he had never yet
traversed it. It was strongly marked; there could be no difficulty or
question about it. Indeed, a week ago, when first the recognition of his
mother's condition, with the symptoms attached to it, was known to him,
he had seen the signpost that directed him into the future.

Lord Ashbridge made his usual flamboyant entry, prancing and swinging
his elbows. Whatever happened he would still be Lord Ashbridge, with his
grey top-hat and his large carnation and his enviable position.

"You will have heard what Sir James's opinion is about your poor
mother," he said. "It was in consequence of what he recommended when he
talked over the future with me that I came to see you."

Michael guessed very well what this recommendation was, but with a
certain stubbornness and sense of what was due to himself, he let his
father proceed with the not very welcome task of telling him.

"In fact, Michael," he said, "I have a favour to ask of you."

The fact of his being Lord Ashbridge, and the fact of Michael being his
unsatisfactor