Shocked out of himself, he cried, and the tears hurt in every fibre of his body.

Suddenly he stopped, but he dared not lift his face out of the bedclothes.
"You ARE late.

Where have you been ?" his mother asked.
"The train was late," he replied, muffled in the sheet.
"Yes; that miserable Central! Is Newton come ?" "Yes." "I'm sure you must be hungry, and they've kept dinner waiting." With a wrench he looked up at her.
"What is it, mother ?" he asked brutally.
She averted her eyes as she answered: "Only a bit of a tumour, my boy.

You needn't trouble.

It's been there--the lump has--a long time." Up came the tears again.