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Owen
reddened
and
his
vehemence
suddenly
subsided
.
“
I
meant
that
I
had
to
speak
—
that
’
s
all
.
You
don
’
t
give
me
a
chance
to
explain
.
.
.
”
She
looked
at
him
gently
,
wondering
a
little
at
her
own
impatience
.
“
Owen
!
Don
’
t
I
always
want
to
give
you
every
chance
?
It
’
s
because
I
do
that
I
wanted
to
talk
to
your
grandmother
first
—
that
I
was
waiting
and
watching
for
the
right
moment
.
.
.
”
“
The
right
moment
?
So
was
I
.
That
’
s
why
I
’
ve
spoken
.
”
His
voice
rose
again
and
took
the
sharp
edge
it
had
in
moments
of
high
pressure
.
His
step
-
mother
turned
away
and
seated
herself
in
her
sofa
-
corner
.
“
Oh
,
my
dear
,
it
’
s
not
a
privilege
to
quarrel
over
!
You
’
ve
taken
a
load
off
my
shoulders
.
Sit
down
and
tell
me
all
about
it
.
”
He
stood
before
her
,
irresolute
.
“
I
can
’
t
sit
down
,
”
he
said
.
“
Walk
about
,
then
.
Only
tell
me
:
I
’
m
impatient
.
”
His
immediate
response
was
to
throw
himself
into
the
armchair
at
her
side
,
where
he
lounged
for
a
moment
without
speaking
,
his
legs
stretched
out
,
his
arms
locked
behind
his
thrown
-
back
head
.
Anna
,
her
eyes
on
his
face
,
waited
quietly
for
him
to
speak
.
