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He wanted to wander in deserts of ice and see over the
mountains, and discover what it is to be benighted on a precipice.
And gradually he was becoming familiar with his father's repertory
of Greek quotations. There was no breach between them, but each
knew that holiday was the last they would ever spend together. . . .
The court had given the custody of young William Porphyry into his
father's hands, but by a generous concession it was arranged that
his mother should have him to see her for an hour or so five times a
year. The Nolan legacy, however, coming upon the top of this,
introduced a peculiar complication that provided much work for
tactful intermediaries, and gave great and increasing scope for
painful delicacies on the part of Mr. Benham as the boy grew up.
"I see," said the father over his study pipe and with his glasses
fixed on remote distances above the head of the current sympathizer,
"I see more and more clearly that the tale of my sacrifices is not
yet at an end. . . . In many respects he is like her. . . . Quick.
Too quick.


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