"I don't think a mother ought ever to say she's sorry," said Robin gloomily.
"Not if she is?"
"She oughtn't to say so."
"Well dear let us be friends. Don't go away angry with me. I do appreciate you so much for going. You are my own dear boy." And she put her hands on his shoulders.
He took out his watch again. "I say, I must be off."
"Don't suppose a mother doesn't see and understand."
"Oh I don't suppose anything. Good-bye mater."
"I think it so splendid of you to go, to turn your back on temptation, to unwind yourself from that wretched girl's coils."
"Coils?"
"My Robin"—she stroked his cheek, the same cheek, as it happened, Priscilla had smitten—"my Robin must not throw himself away. I am ambitious where you are concerned, my darling. It would have broken my heart for you to have married a nobody—perhaps a worse than nobody."