“So you don’t believe me,” said John, who was prepared for her incredulity. “But you must--somehow. My head aches badly, and I can’t talk very well, but I must make you believe me. It’s--it’s very important that you should, mother.” This time she said nothing. She left the bedside and moved about the room, stopping before the dressing table and mechanically putting the brushes and other small objects quite straight. If she had felt that it were safe to leave him alone she would have left him at once and would have locked herself into her own room. For she was very angry, and she believed that her anger was justified. So long as he had been unconscious, she had felt a certain fear for his safety which made a link with the love she bore him. But, as usual, his iron constitution seemed to have triumphed. She remembered clearly how, on Monday afternoon, he had evidently been the worse for drink when he had entered her room, and yet how, in less than an hour, he had reappeared apparently quite sober. He was very strong, and there was no knowing what he could do. She had forgiven him that once, but it was not in her nature to forgive easily, and she told herself that this time it would be impossible. He had disgraced himself and her. She continued to turn away from him. He watched her, and saw how desperate the situation was growing. He knew well enough that there would be some talk about him on the morrow and that it would come to Katharine’s ears, in explanation of his absence from the Assembly ball. His mind worked rapidly and energetically now, for it was quite clear to him that he had no time to lose. If he should fall asleep without having persuaded his mother that he was quite himself, he could never, in all his life, succeed in destroying the fatal impression she must carry with her. While she was turning from him he made a great effort, and putting his feet to the ground, sat upon the edge of his bed. His head swam for a moment, but he steadied himself with both hands and faced the light, thinking that the brilliant glare might help him. “You must believe me, now,” he said, “or you never will. I’ve had rather a bad day of it, and another accident, and a fight with a better man than myself, so that I’m rather battered. But I haven’t been drinking.” “Look at yourself!” answered Mrs. Ralston, scornfully. “Look at yourself in the glass and see whether you have any chance of convincing me of that. Since you’re not killed, and not injured, I shall leave you to yourself. I hope you won’t talk about it to-morrow. This is the second time within four days. It’s just a little more than I can bear. If you can’t live like a gentleman, you had better go away and live in the way you prefer--somewhere else.” As she spoke, her anger began to take hold of her, and her voice fell to a lower pitch, growing concentrated and cruel.