With the uncanny intuition that makes women so disconcerting, she realized that she had missed her chance and must let the boy have his head.
Not until he had unburdened his soul would she be able, she knew, to focus his complete attention upon herself.
"Tell me about it," she said.
He gave her a grateful look.

"You know the house with the kennels over there--the hounds don't let you miss it.

I've been wandering about the place without seeing anybody since Father died." "Oh, then, you're Martin Gray!" "Yes." "I was awfully sorry about your father." "Thanks." The boy's mouth trembled a little, and he worked his thumb into the soft earth.

"He was one of the very best, and it was not right.

He was too young and too much missed.