He had perceived from the first that this connection of his with Annie Hogg might do his father very much harm, and he did not want to harm him. The thought of this did not mean that for a moment he contemplated dropping the affair because of his father--no, indeed--but the thought of the old man, as he termed him, added dimly to his general unhappiness. He appreciated the way that his father had taken his return from Oxford. The old man was a sportsman. It was a great pity that he should have to make him unhappy over this business. But there it was--you couldn't alter things. It was this fatalistic philosophy that finally ruled everything with him. "What must be must." If things went wrong he had his courage, and he was helped too by his contempt for the world.... He knew his father, but he was aware now that he knew nothing at all about his mother. "What's _she_ thinking about?" he asked himself. One afternoon he was about to go to Seatown when, in the passage outside his bedroom, he met his mother. They both stopped as though they had something to say to one another. He did not look at all like her son, so fair, tall and aloof, as though even in his own house he must be on his guard, prepared to challenge any one who threatened his private plans. "She's like a little mouse," he thought to himself, as though he were seeing her for the first time, "preparing to run off into the wainscot" He was conscious, too, of her quiet clothes and shy preoccupied timidity--all of it he seemed to see for the first time, a disguise for some purpose as secret, perhaps, as his own. "Oh, Falk," she said, and stopped, and then went on with the question that she so often asked him: "Is there anything you want?" "No, mother, thank you. I'm just going out." "Oh, yes...." She still stayed there nervously looking up at him. "I was wondering----Are you going into the town?" "Yes, mother. Is there anything I can do for you?" "No, thank you." Still she did not move. "Joan's out," she said. Then she went on quickly, "I wish you'd tell me if there were anything----" "Why, of course." He laughed. "What exactly do you mean?" "Nothing, dear. Only I like to know about your plans." "Plans? I haven't any." "No, but I always think you may be going away suddenly. Perhaps I could help you. I know it isn't very much that I can do, but anything you told me I think I could help you about.... I'd like to help you." He could see that she had been resolving for some time to speak to him, and that this little appeal was the result of a desperate determination. He was touched. "That's all right, mother. I suppose father and you think I oughtn't to be hanging around here doing nothing." "Oh, your father hasn't said anything to me. I don't know what he thinks. But I should miss you if you went. It is nice for us having you, although, of course, it must seem slow to you here."