It was a far bigger surprise than Severn's capitulation; it staggered us all, and even Severn was less ready for it than for most things. And before we could collect our scattered wits, she was going on--ranting, if you like--telling us what she thought of us, of Terry, of everything else, and of the world in general. She had hardly spoken all the evening, and it was as if the words had been heaping themselves up behind her barrier of silence, and that now the barrier had given way. I wish I could have taken down in shorthand everything she said, for it was an impressive tirade. It held us spellbound while it lasted, but the spell is over now, and all that memory yields is a few scraps and sentences. "Ever since you knew him," I can remember her saying, "you've been planning things out for him and settling things that he ought to have settled for himself, and the result has been just disaster--disaster--over and over again.... And now you're planning that he shan't discover the mistakes you've made.... But he _shall_ discover them, and the sooner the better. Let him know the truth--let's all of us know the truth--let's know the truth about his life and your life and my life.... "You're afraid it will make him ill? Then let him be ill--better that he should be ill of the truth than smiling in your fool's paradise. Let him know everything. Even if Karelsky's fooled him, _you_ shan't!" June was white-hot. "We don't want to fool him, mother. We want to help him. Why should _you_ interfere?" "_Interfere_?" Her bitter laugh was more than words. "_Interfere_? That's a strange word to use about me and Terry." "Is it? I don't see why it is. If you deliberately tell him things that you needn't tell him, that's interference, isn't it?" "All right, then. I'm going to interfere." "You're _really_ going to tell him?" "Rather." "When?" "As soon as ever I can. He's staying at the hotel at Hindhead, isn't he?" "You'd dare to go there and tell him?" "It doesn't strike me as particularly daring." "Oh, but ... mother.... You _shan't_ go--you've no right to--you----" "Haven't I? How do you know what I've a right to do? Perhaps I've a right to do what _you're_ doing, anyway. _You_ visit him, don't you? _You_ talk to him, and tell him what you want to tell him, don't you?" The two were facing each other dangerously--June flushed and angry, and Helen with an ashen-pale mask of curious, half-contemptuous calmness. And then, in the midst of the almost ugly tension, Severn thought fit to fling his own delicate and carefully-prepared bombshell. "You won't need to go anywhere to see him," he announced, looking at Helen. "He'll be here any minute...." "_Here_?"