For one second she clung to her son, and then, disengaging herself, froze up like the sudden congealment of a spring.
"Yes, Robert," she said.

"I was having a little talk to Michael." "May I come in ?" "It's our secret," she whispered to Michael.
"Yes, come in, father," he said.
Lord Ashbridge stood towering in the doorway.
"Come, my dear," he said, not unkindly, "it's time for you to go to bed." She had become the mask of herself again.
"Yes, Robert," she said.

"I suppose it must be late.

I will come.

Oh, there's Petsy.