“Did what?”
“Made you a laughing-stock—”
He stepped close to her and caught her wrist.
“Will you look me in the face and swear you never told people you were doing this lecturing business to support me?”
There was a long silence. He dropped her wrist and she lifted a limp handkerchief to her frightened eyes. “I did do it—to support you—to educate you”—she sobbed.
“We’re not talking about what you did when I was a boy. Everybody who knows me knows I’ve been a grateful son. Have I ever taken a penny from you since I left college ten years ago?”
“I never said you had! How can you accuse your mother of such wickedness, Lancelot?”
“Have you never told anybody in this hotel—or anywhere else in the last ten years—that you were lecturing to support me? Answer me that!”
“How can you,” she wept, “before a stranger?”
“Haven’t you said such things about me to strangers?” he retorted.