‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. "I never told anybody," she went on. The doctor expected her to seize upon the subtle inference that there was something furtive, even criminal, in the manner the patient set this obligation upon humanity at large, to look after him in the event of his death. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful.
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