The room was dark and dusty. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man.
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