Mother and Son. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames. ’ ‘Well, she didn’t walk through the walls, that’s certain,’ said Hilary acidly. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food.
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