A frightened look came on the boy's face and his hand went to hers again.
"Mamsy, Mamsy!" he cried. "Come back, Mamsy! I want you!"
She turned to him as if she had never seen him before. "Oh!" she said, and drew aside. Then: "You mustn't ask questions, my boy."
"I won't, Mamsy."
"You're a good little boy and you came out of the dark," she pursued.
"Out of the dark?" he repeated, tempting her on. His curiosity was manifest.
"Don't you remember?"
"I'm not sure. They was a place—"
"There was a place," she corrected.
"There was a place where they beat me, and I ran away, and I found you, and you were good to me."