At that moment the boy appeared.
“This day week you’ll be on the sea, Gerald,” she said. “Then you’ll be sorry for all your iniquities.”
“No!” he answered, sitting in the position he most affected, at Bertha’s feet.
“No—which?”
“I shan’t be sorry,” he replied, with a smile, “and I’m not going away.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I’ve altered my plans. The man I’m going to said I could start at the beginning of the month or a fortnight later.”
“But why?” It was a foolish question, because she knew.
“I had nothing to stay for. Now I have, that’s all.”
Bertha looked at him, and caught his shining eyes fixed intently upon her. She became grave.