You must see him, of course." "No, my dear.

I'll try not to." She mopped her streaming eyes.
"But you can't spare the time to come with him, and if he should forget himself and lose his way and somebody spoke to him sharply, his name and address may slip his memory, and he'll remain lost for days and days--" The vision of a workhouse infirmary for poor Stevie--if only during inquiries--wrung her heart.

For she was a proud woman.

Winnie's stare had grown hard, intent, inventive.
"I can't bring him to you myself every week," she cried.

"But don't you worry, mother.