"We prefer to be alone," the father said gravely.
Again her eyes flashed from one to the other and rested on Tom. She rushed to him and laid her hand appealingly on his arm:
"Oh, Tom, dear, am I not your wife?" the boy's head drooped—"must you have a secret from me now?"
"Just a few minutes," Norton pleaded, "that's a good girl!"
"Only a few minutes, Helen," Tom urged.
"Please let me stay. Why were you both so pale when I came in?"
Father and son glanced at each other over her head. Norton hesitated and said:
"You see we are perfectly calm now. All bitterness is gone from our hearts. We are father and son again."
"Why do you look so queerly at me? Why do you look so strangely at each other?"
"It's only your imagination, dear," Tom said.