“Don't you know?” she demanded.
“No,” he said, with unparalleled humility.
She put down the lamp on the little table that stood beside her.
“He didn't tell you he was a-goin'?”
“No,” said Hilary.
“Then how did you know he wasn't just buggy-ridin'?” she said.
Hilary Vane was mute.
“You've be'n to his room!” she exclaimed. “You've seen his things are gone!”
He confessed it by his silence. Then, with amazing swiftness and vigour for one of her age, Euphrasia seized him by the arms and shook him.
“What have you done to him?” she cried; “what have you done to him? You sent him off. You've never understood him—you've never behaved like a father to him. You ain't worthy to have him.” She flung herself away and stood facing Hilary at a little distance. “What a fool I was! What a fool! I might have known it, and I promised him.”