"Will you give me back those things?" Lady Woodroffe moved as if she would take them. "No? Then keep them. After all I have—my son—mine—my son. That is the main thing."
"I made these things—every one—I made them. See, Molly—here is the very paper I wrote. I pinned it to his little frock." She kissed the frock. "'His name is Humphrey.' I wrote it. His father said there was always a Humphrey in the family. I wrote that paper—now!"
Lady Woodroffe smiled sadly. "Poor creature! But perhaps you had better go at once."
"Where is my son?"
"I have done my best to relieve you of a most remarkable delusion. You reward me by robbing me of my child's things. I cannot fight you for them, and I do not like to make my servants take them by force. Keep them."
She rang the bell.
"They are my things."
Lady Woodroffe continued to follow her movements with eyes of compassion.
"It is indeed wonderful!" she murmured. "All this great fortune! And this most miserable delusion to spoil it!"
Alice moved towards the door. She was trembling. She leaned upon Molly. She clung to the bundle. She turned.