“Well, then I don’t think you ought to talk like that. I don’t think it’s kind or considerate to me and, after you’ve just heard about Captain Ross’s death, I think it’s irreverent. And I thought you attached so much importance to reverence,” Mrs. Fane added in a complaining tone. Michael was vexed by his mother’s failure to understand his point of view, and became harder and more perverse every minute. “Lord Saxby would be shocked to hear you talking like this, shocked and horrified,” she went on. “I’m very sorry for hurting Lord Saxby’s feelings,” said Michael with elaborate sarcasm. “But really I don’t see that it matters much to him what I think.” “He wants to see you before he sails,” said Mrs. Fane. “To see me? Why?” gasped Michael. “Why on earth should he want to see me?” “Well, he’s—he’s in a way the head of our family.” “He’s not taken much interest in me up to the present. It’s rather odd he should want to see me now when he’s going away.” “Michael, don’t be so bitter and horrid. Lord Saxby’s so kind, and he—and he—might never come back.” “Dearest mother,” said Michael, “I think you’re a little unreasonable. Why should I go and meet a man now, and perhaps grow to like him—and then say good-bye to him, perhaps for ever?” “Michael, do not talk like that. You are selfish and brutal. You’ve grown up to be perfectly heartless, although you can be charming. I think you’d better not see Lord Saxby. He’d be ashamed of you.” Michael rose in irritation. “My dear mother, what on earth business is it of Lord Saxby’s how I behave? I don’t understand what you mean by being ashamed of me. I have lived all these years, and I’ve seen Lord Saxby once. He sent me some Siamese stamps and some soldiers. I dare say he’s a splendid chap. I know I liked him terrifically, when I was a kid, and if he’s killed I shall be sorry—I shall be more than sorry—I shall be angry, furious that for the sake of these insufferable rowdies another decent chap is going to risk his life.” Mrs. Fane put out her hand to stop Michael’s flowing tirade, but he paid no attention, talking away less to her than to himself. Indeed, long before he had finished, she made no pretence of listening, but merely sat crying quietly.