“Well?”
“My words were running over fast.”
“My dear girl, say anything you like to me; you are too honest for me to be offended.”
Judith drew her chair nearer to his, and, leaning her elbows on its arms, looked into her brother’s face.
“It is not good for a man to live always at home,” she said.
“Is it my fault?”
“No. I know father desires to keep you here. He is proud of you, and ambitious—God pardon me—in a mistaken way. But then, my dear Gabriel, a father must recognize the individual personality of his son. He can only wrong him till he treats him as a fellow-man and not as a child. Both of you may suffer through your amiable apathy.”
“Go on.”
“I do not pain you?”
“No, dear.”