Soamesslowlypassedalittleinlaidpaperknifeoverthesmoothsurfaceofamarqueterietable；then，withoutlookingathisnephew，hebegan：”Youdon’tunderstandwhatyourmotherhashadtoputupwiththesetwentyyears。Thisisonlythelaststraw，Val。”AndglancingupsidewaysatWinifred，headded：”ShallItellhim?”
Winifredwassilent。Ifhewerenottold，hewouldbeagainsther！
Yet，howdreadfultobetoldsuchthingsofhisownfather！
Clenchingherlips，shenodded。
Soamesspokeinarapid，evenvoice：”Hehasalwaysbeenaburdenroundyourmother’sneck。Shehaspaidhisdebtsoverandoveragain；hehasoftenbeendrunk，abusedandthreatenedher；andnowheisgonetoBuenosAireswithadancer。”And，asifdistrustingtheefficacyofthosewordsontheboy，hewentonquickly”Hetookyourmother’spearlstogivetoher。”