“Transgressions? An amiable word, believe me.” “I did not come here, however, to discuss your actions.” Yvonne leaned forward suddenly. “You do not ask what transpired last night to bring about this crisis. Why do you hesitate?” Mrs Desmond shook her head slowly. “I do not want to know.” “Well, it was not what you have been thinking it was,” said Yvonne levelly. “I am relieved to hear it,” said the other rather grimly. Mrs Brood flushed to the roots of her hair. “I do not want to appear unfair to my husband, but I declare to you, Mrs Desmond, that Frederic is fully justified in the attitude he has taken this morning. His father humiliated him last night in a manner that made forbearance impossible. That much I must say for Frederic. And permit me to add, from my soul, that he is vastly more sinned against than sinning.” “I can readily believe that, Mrs Brood.” “This morning Frederic came into the breakfast-room while we were having our coffee. You look surprised. Yes, I was having breakfast with my husband. I knew that Frederic would come. That was my reason. When I heard him in the hall I sent the servants out of the dining-room. He had spent the night with a friend. His first words on entering the room were these--I shall never forget them: 'Last night I thought I loved you, father, but I have come home just to tell you that I hate you. I can't stay in this house another day. I'm going to get out. But I just wanted you to know that I thought I loved you last night, as a son should love his father. I just wanted you to know it.' “He did not even look at me, Mrs Desmond. I don't believe he knew I was there. I shall never forget the look in James Brood's face. It was as if he saw a ghost or some horrible thing that fascinated him. He did not utter a word, but stared at Frederic in that terrible, awe-struck way. “'I'm going to get out,' said Frederic, his voice rising. 'You've treated me like a dog all of my life, and I'm through. I shan't even say good-bye to you. You don't deserve any more consideration from me than I've received from you. I hope I'll never see you again. If I ever have a son I'll not treat him as you've treated your son. You don't deserve the honour of being called father; you don't deserve to have a son. I wish to God I had never been obliged to call you father! I don't know what you did to my mother, but if you treated her as------' “Just then my husband found his voice. He sprang to his feet, and I've never seen such a look of rage. I thought he was going to strike Frederic, and I think I screamed--just a little scream, of course. I was so terrified. But he only said--and it was horrible the way he said it--'You fool--you bastard!' And Frederic laughed in his face and cried out, unafraid: 'I'm glad you call me a bastard! I'd rather be one than be your son. It would at least give me something to be proud of--a real father!'” “Good Heaven!” fell from Mrs Desmond's white lips.