He leant across the table to her. "You must never leave father--never," he
said. "You mustn't think of it. He wants you badly. He mayn't show it
exactly as you want it. Men aren't demonstrative as women are, but he'd be
miserable if you went away. He loves you in his own fashion, which is just
as good as yours, only different. You must _never_ leave him, mother,
do you hear?"
She saw that she was defeated, entirely and completely. She cried to the
Powers:
"You've refused me what I ask. I go my own way, then."
She got up, kissed him on the forehead and said: "I daresay you're right,
Falk. Forget what I've said. I didn't mean most of it. Good-night, dear."
She went out, quietly closing the door behind her.
Falk did not sleep at all that night. This was only one of many sleepless
nights, but it was the worst of them. The night was warm, and a faint dim
colour lingered behind the treetops of the garden beyond his open window.
First he lay under the clothes, then upon the top of his bed, then
stripped, plunging his head into a basin of water, then naked save for his
soft bedroom slippers, paced his room.
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