He turned away, laying his cheek against the stone window-ledge, while the drops of a passing scud of rain beat in on his hot face.
"Then—then my father never saw me," he exclaimed vehemently. And, after a moment's pause, added, "I am glad of that—very glad."
"Ah! But, my dearest," Lady Calmady cried, bewildered and aghast, "you don't know what you are saying—think."
Richard kept his face to the splashing rain.
"I don't want to say anything wrong; but," he repeated, "I am glad."
He turned to her, his lips quivering a little, and a desolate expression in his eyes, which told Katherine, with only too bitter assurance, that his childhood and the repose of it were indeed over and gone.
She held out her arms to him in silent invitation, and drew the dear curly head on to her bosom.
"You're not displeased with me, mummy?"
"Does this seem as if I was displeased?" she asked.
Then they sat silent once more, Katherine swaying a little as she held him, soothing him almost as in his baby days.