"Were you right to see him in Devonshire?"
"Of course I was right. Why should I not see him,—or any one?"
"And you will see him again?"
"When papa comes, of course I shall see him."
"Then it is hopeless," said he, turning away from her.
"If that man is to be a source of disquiet to you, it is hopeless," she answered. "If you cannot so school yourself that he shall be the same to you as other men, it is quite hopeless. You must still be mad,—as you have been mad hitherto."
He walked about the room restlessly for a time, while she stood with assumed composure near the window. "Send me my child," he said at last.
"He shall come to you, Louis,—for a little; but he is not to be taken out from hence. Is that a promise?"
"You are to exact promises from me, where my own rights are concerned, while you refuse to give me any, though I am entitled to demand them! I order you to send the boy to me. Is he not my own?"
"Is he not mine too? And is he not all that you have left to me?"