yet, but was walking on, silently. And, all at once, she began to be curious, wondering what it could be that he wanted to tell her in that suddenly caressing voice, what he wanted to obtain from her. For she felt that he was going to ask her for something, a favour almost, a gift. Because he was leaning on her like that, she felt that something was weighing on his mind, some oppressive anxiety which he would tell her in order to make it lighter to bear. What could be troubling him? What would it be? It could not be money: he was too sensible; he knew exactly how much she could spare. Was he in love? A boy's love-affair? Yes, she was convinced that that was it. She had always said that, when Addie fell in love, it would be once and for all; and she had grown a little afraid for her big son, with that serious heart of his. . . .
"Well, what is it?" she asked; and she added, playfully, "Are you in love?"
He only laughed:
"No, I'm not in love. But still I have something very important to say to you, something that will distress you perhaps, because you always pictured it differently. . . ."
"What is it, Addie?" she asked, feeling a little frightened and bewildered.
"It's this, Mamma," he said, quietly and very calmly. "I can't go into the diplomatic service . . . because I want to be a doctor."
