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Hutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth), 1879-1971

"This Freedom"


Assaulted the landlady. My son! Arrested. My son!"
He turned away.
She cried, "Harry! What happened?"
He turned on her in a violence renewed. "I declare to you that if
he had gone to prison I would not have raised a hand to stop him.
He'd had the grace--or he'd all the time had the guile--to give an
assumed name. Would I have confessed, to save him, that he was my
son? I believe I couldn't. He got off with a fine. I got hold of
him. I've brought him back. He's here."
She went to the bell. "I must get you some food."
He stayed her. "Food! I'll tell you what to get me. I'll tell you
what to get that boy. Get me a home. Get him a home. That's what's
caused this. Do you know what he said to me coming up in the
train? I said to him, 'Why are you always away like this? Why, in
the holidays, are you never at home?' He said, 'What home is there
for me to come to? Who's ever there?' He's right. Who is? Are you?"
She said quietly, "Harry, not now. Dear, you are not yourself."
He was not and continued not to be. "Well, answer my question. Are
you ever in the home?"
She implored, "Oh, my dear!"
He was not to be placated. "Where is the home?"
"Harry!"
"Where's Doda?"
She began in her spirit to move. "Staying with friends."
"Where's Benji?"
"You perfectly well know. Staying with friends."
"Where are you?"
She put her hand to her bosom. "Oh, beware me, Harry. Here."
"For the night.


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