Where would you like to go ?" Roderick turned his head slowly and looked at her.

He had let her take his hand, which she pressed tenderly between her own.

He gazed at her for some time in silence.

"Poor mother!" he said at last, in a portentous tone.
"My own dear son!" murmured Mrs.Hudson in all the innocence of her trust.
"I don't care a straw where you go! I don't care a straw for anything!" "Oh, my dear boy, you must not say that before all of us here--before Mary, before Mr.Mallet!" "Mary--Mr.Mallet ?" Roderick repeated, almost savagely.

He released himself from the clasp of his mother's hand and turned away, leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.