his letters and newspapers, and pretended to drink his coffee. But I could see that these movements were mechanical, and I was little surprised when, suddenly, he pushed away everything that was before him, and, with his head in his hands and his elbows on the table, sat staring strangely at the cloth.
"What is the matter, fratello mio?" Miss Ambient inquired, peeping from behind the urn.
He answered nothing, but got up with .a certain violence and strode to the window. We rose to our feet, his sister and I, by a common impulse, exchanging a glance of some alarm, while he stared for a moment into the garden. "In Heaven's name what has got possession of Beatrice?" he cried at last, turning round with an almost haggard face. And he looked from one of us to the other; the appeal was addressed to me as well as to his sister.
Miss Ambient gave a shrug. "My poor Mark, Beatrice is always—Beatrice!"
"She has locked herself up with the boy—bolted and barred the door; she refuses to let me come near him!" Ambient went on.
"She refused to let the doctor see him an hour ago!" Miss Ambient remarked, with intention, as they say on the stage.
"Refused to let the doctor see him? By heaven, I 'll smash in the door!" And Mark brought his fist down upon the table, so that all the breakfast-service rang.
