’ Gerald frowned. "Do you mean to say that if I support your kid, I shan't bring him up how I please—eh?" "Don't question me, but leave me," replied the widow wildly; "you had better. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen.
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