Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/215

 proach him again but his manner warned her that this would be dangerous, or at least difficult—, he thought that if he threw you into the wrong kind of life in the beginning you would hate it, and come round to him of your own accord. That is why he made life unpleasant for you, as disagreeable for you as possible, hoping that a year of it would tire you. You were tired in a month. He was so pleased. He wants you with him, Harold—she was pleading now—; he is expecting you. Only, you must ask him. He won't ask you. Don't you understand?

Harold was standing with his back to the fire, his face, in the shadow, almost green in its pallor. His head seemed to be reeling around and around. Suddenly he realized that he was excessively angry.

I'd see him in hell first! he cried.

Harold!

I mean it. Who's to blame for the way I was brought up? He didn't do much to prevent it, did he? the boy asked scornfully.

Harold!

And so, he went on, the whole thing was a trick!

Now, completely the prey of alarm, a suspicion of tears crept into Alice's voice. It was for your good, Harold, to make a man of you. She was whining, whimpering.

And who kept me from being aman? Who? I should like to know.