"Oh, mother!" he laughed.
"What would you do," she gravely continued, "if I was—a wicked woman?"
He laughed again.
"What would you do," she insisted, "if somebody told you I was bad?"
"Mother," he answered, not yet affected by her earnestness, "you could not be!"
She put her hands on his shoulders. "What would you do?" she repeated.
"Don't!" he pleaded, disquieted.
Again the question—low, intense, demanding answer. He trembled. She was not in play. A sinful woman? For a moment he conceived the possibility—vaguely: in a mere flash of feeling.
"What would you do?"
"I don't know!"