Of course I want to tell you. Though there isn't much to tell. My mother just went off and left us, that's all. When I was a little kid. I haven't seen her since. I guess I was ashamed, that's why I never told you."

"But that's nothing for you to be ashamed of. The shame is hers, I should say."

"But she was my mother, you know, and other fellows had mothers who stayed. No matter what, they stayed. And I guess I was ashamed for my father, too. My wonderful father! To leave such a father as that! He was a prince, Bruce! I couldn't bear to have him shamed--my dad! The finest and most honorable I'll ever meet."

"I remember him. He came to commencement. He had hair and eyes just like yours. I remember thinking he seemed more like your elder brother than your father."

"He was," said Dana gravely. "He was both. And mother, too! My mother went away when I was two and a half, so I scarcely remember anything connected with her. She went away when my sister was born. She went away from the hospital and took the baby with her. I have never seen my sister!"

Bruce listened in growing wonder.

"And yet you are going to see your mother?" he asked, amazed. "I shouldn't think you would want to see her."

"I don't!" said Dana. "It would not be my pleasure ever to look upon her. But it was my father's wish that I should go. He wanted me to see her once at least. He wanted me to judge for myself. It seemed as if, at the last, he wanted to make sure that I would find out if in any way he had been unjust in his judgment of her. If there was anything else that he might have done. I think perhaps he wanted me to make sure she had not suffered in any way. Perhaps he hoped that through the years she might have come to be sorry for what she did, and yet was too self-willed to say so."

"Then there was no divorce?"

"Yes, there was a divorce a few years ago. Father would not ask for it. He did not believe in divorces. But he did not oppose her asking.