There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. He turned his back on that temptation. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. But anything is better than this. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. His chin was angular and his lips were 16 small, his mouth tiny and refined.
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