"Why need I? But of course I must. I ask you, is this a place for _any one_ to settle down in?" "I don't know why it shouldn't be. I should have thought you could be very happy here. There are so many things you could do." "What, for instance?" "You could be a solicitor, or go into business, or--or--why, you'd soon find something." He got up, taking the candle in his hand. "Well, if that's your idea, mother, I'm sorry, but you can just put it out of your head once and for all. I'd rather be buried alive than stay in this hole. I _would_ be buried alive if I stayed." She looked up at him. He was so tall, so handsome, _and so distant_-- some one who had no connection with her at all. She too got up, putting her little hand on his arm. "Then are we, all of us, to count for nothing at all?" "Of course you count," he answered impatiently, irritated by the pressure of her fingers on his coat. "You'll see plenty of me. But you can't possibly expect me to live here. I've completely wasted my beautiful young life so far--now apparently you want me to waste the rest of it." "Then," she said, coming nearer to him and dropping her voice, "take me with you." "Take you with me!" He stepped back from her. He could not believe that he had heard her correctly. "Take _you_ with me?" "Yes." "Take you with me?" "Yes, yes, yes." It was the greatest surprise of his life. He stared at her in his amazement, putting the candle back upon the table. "But why?" "Why?...Why do you think?...Because I love you and want to be with you." "Be with me? Leave this? Leave Polchester?...Leave father?" "Yes, why not? Your father doesn't need me any longer. Nobody wants me here. Why shouldn't I go?" He came close to her, giving her now all his attention, staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time in his life. "Mother, aren't you well?...Aren't you happy?" She laughed. "Happy? Oh, yes, so happy that I'd drown myself to-night if that would do any good." "Here, sit down." He almost pushed her back into her chair. "We've got to have this out. I don't know what you're talking about. You're unhappy? Why, what's the matter?" "The matter? Oh, nothing!" she answered. "Nothing at all, except for the last ten years I've hated this place, hated this house, hated your father." "Hated father?" He stared at her as though she had in a moment gone completely mad. "Yes, why not?" she answered quietly. "What has he ever done that I should feel otherwise? What attention has he ever paid to me? When has he ever considered me except as a sort of convenient housekeeper and mistress whom he pays to keep near him? Why shouldn't I hate him? You're very young, Falk, and it would probably surprise you to know how many quiet stay-at- home wives there are who hate their good, honest, well-meaning husbands." He drew a deep breath. "What's father ever done," he said, "to make you hate him?"