Mother and Son XI. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. “Sure, I guess so. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. His voice now had lost its ironies. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Let's get one idea into our heads. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge.
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