"Anything else you'd like?" he asked.
"Thanks—a small whiskey and soda." Stephen's smile was insolent.
"Help yourself." Roddy saw too late the loop-hole that he had offered. "Mother's just about the same. The doctor came again this morning."
"What did he say?" Stephen filled his glass and lolled back in the armchair.
"Nothing good—her heart's weak and she's all nerves—doesn't sleep. Of course, she can't touch solids yet—that forcible feeding nearly killed her." The boy winced as he spoke.
"I'm awfully sorry," said Stephen. For once a ring of genuine feeling sounded in his high voice. "I'd like to see this government—wiped out!——" he clenched his hands.
"Not much good—there'd be another." Roddy was practical—"you see, if you go and break laws you've got to pay—whoever you are! It's the fault of the Suffrage leaders themselves—they're just 'agitators'——" he paused—"I'd have my knife into them! They don't care who suffers."
"Well—you seem to take it pretty coolly considering your Mother is the victim?"
The boy shot him an angry glance.
"She wouldn't be—except for you!"