He went to her, standing so he could look into her eyes. "It's late in the day, but I'll try to do some little thing my mother would like me to do."
Mrs. Bartlett was about to speak again in burning protest when her glance fell upon the children, Suzanna and her own boy. And the eloquent expressions upon those small faces kept her silent. At last she turned as though to leave the room. Over her shoulder she spoke.
"At least you will not insist upon my presence here while you fulfill your preposterous plans?"
He replied gently: "As always, I ask nothing that you cannot give in perfect freedom."
She hesitated, was about to say something, stopped and took another subject: "As for your mother—"
He interrupted her, but to repeat "As for my mother—" but he left his thought unfinished.
Then he, too, went toward the door, and as he passed Suzanna he let his fine, nervous hand touch her bright hair. Once he turned. "Suzanna, as I told you," he said, "David, my fine gardener, has interested me somewhat in your father's machine; perhaps I'll make a journey to your home some day to see it."