As he stooped to kiss his mother, she threw her arms round his neck, hid her face on his shoulder, and cried, in a whimpering voice, so unlike her own that he writhed in agony: "I can't bear it.

I could let another woman--but not her.

She'd leave me no room, not a bit of room--" And immediately he hated Miriam bitterly.
"And I've never--you know, Paul--I've never had a husband--not really--" He stroked his mother's hair, and his mouth was on her throat.
"And she exults so in taking you from me--she's not like ordinary girls." "Well, I don't love her, mother," he murmured, bowing his head and hiding his eyes on her shoulder in misery.

His mother kissed him a long, fervent kiss.
"My boy!" she said, in a voice trembling with passionate love.
Without knowing, he gently stroked her face.
"There," said his mother, "now go to bed.

You'll be so tired in the morning." As she was speaking she heard her husband coming.