chap's own mother might have, perhaps—but perhaps not, too.
"I can't tell you," he said at last, "only I don't think I want to be Lord Arden. At least, I do, frightfully. It's so splendid, all the things the Ardens did—in history, you know. But I don't want to turn people out—and you know Edred came and saved me from those people. It feels hateful when I think perhaps they'll have to turn out just because I happened to turn up. Sometimes I feel as if I simply couldn't bear it."
"You dear child!" she said; "of course you feel that. But don't let your mind dwell on it. Don't think about it. You're only a little boy. Be happy and jolly, and don't worry about grown-up things. Leave grown-up things to the grown-ups."
"You see," Dickie told her, "somehow I've always had to worry about grown-up things. What with Beale, and one thing and another."
"That was the man you ran away from me to go to?"
"Yes," said Dickie gravely; "you see, I was responsible for Beale."
"And now? Don't you feel responsible any more?"
"No," said Dickie, in business-like tones; "you see, I've settled Beale in life. You can't be responsible for married people. They're responsible for each other. So now I've got only my own affairs to think of. And the Ardens. I don't know what to do."
