“I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. ” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. Mother and Son XI. “It was inevitable,” he declared. There it is. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position.
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