“I must see my old friend, Arthur! and why shouldn't I see his sister? My father and mother ain't tyrants! They know what that would make of me! They let me go where I please, or give a good reason why I should not.” “Oh, they'll do that fast enough!” returned Alice, in a tone of mingled despair and scorn. “But,” she added immediately, “the worst of it is, they'll be in the right. Let me out, Richard, or I shall hate you!” But with the word she dropped her head on his shoulder, and sobbed as if her heart would sob its last. He made repeated attempts to soothe her, but, as he made them, he felt them foolish, for he saw that nothing would alter her determination to be set down. “Must I leave you, then, on this very spot?” he said. “Yes, yes! here--here!” she answered, and rose with apparent eagerness to get away from him. He got out, and turned to her, but she did not accept his offered help. “Won't you shake hands with me?” he said. “I did not mean to offend you!” She answered nothing, but hurried away a step or two, then turned and lifted her arms as if to embrace him, but turned again instantly, and fled away among the shadows of the wildly flickering lamps. By the time he had paid the cabman, he saw it would be useless to follow, for she was out of sight. The wide street was almost deserted; its lamps shuddered flaring and streaming and darkening in the fierce gusts of the wind. A vague army of evil things seemed to start up and come crowding between him and Alice. He turned homeward, with a sense of loss and a great sadness at his heart, unable even to speculate as to the cause of Alice's behaviour. All he knew was, that his mother had something to do with it. For the first time since childhood, he felt angry with his mother. “She fancies,” he said to himself, “that I am in love with the girl, and she thinks her not good enough for me! I'm not in love with her; but _any_ good girl I cared for, I should count good enough! When my mother's turn comes, off she goes to the rest of the social tyrants that look down on a brother because he can do twenty things they can't! If the world went out of gear, would _they_ make it go! I'll be fair whatever I be! It'll be my mother's own fault if I fall in love with Alice! She has made me pity her with all my heart--the poor, white thing!--so thin and pinched, and such big eyes! It would be just bliss to have a creature like that to trust you, so that you could comfort her! What can my mother have said to her? She has made her awfully miserable, anyhow! Perhaps her mother drinks!--What if she do! Alice don't!” He was determined to have some explanation from his mother. But she foiled him. The moment she saw what he meant, she turned away, listened in silence, and spoke with a decision that savoured of anger. “They're not people your father and I will have you know,” she said, without looking at him. “But why, mother?” asked Richard.