albeit with more anger in his tone than he had ever shown to his mother before.
“Yes,” he said shortly.
Thyra released his arm, and struck her hands together with a sharp cry. There was a savage note in it. She could have slain Damaris Garland at that moment.
“Don’t go on so, mother,” said Chester, impatiently. “Come in out of the cold. It isn’t fit for you to be here. Who has been tampering with you? What if I did go to see Damaris?”
“Oh — oh — oh!” cried Thyra. “I was waiting for you — alone — and you were thinking only of her! Chester, answer me — do you love her?”
The blood rolled rapidly over the boy’s face. He muttered something and tried to pass on, but she caught him again. He forced himself to speak gently.
“What if I do, mother? It wouldn't be such a dreadful thing, would it?”
“And me? And me?” cried Thyra. “What am I to you, then?”’
“You are my mother. I wouldn't love you any the less because I cared for another, too.”
“I won't have you love another,” she cried. “I want all your love — all! What’s that baby-face to you, compared to your mother? I have the best right to you. I won't give you up.”
