In low tones she replied,-- "You show your base ingratitude by thus insulting your mother and running the risk of betraying her to listening servants by your talk.

Of course, this is all a farce, as you say, but it must be carried through.

You and I were distantly related to Hugh Mainwaring, but what chance would we have against these people with no more of a claim than ours?
I am compelled to assert that I was his wife and that you are his son in order to win any recognition in the eyes of the law." For an instant her son regarded her with an expression of mingled surprise and incredulity, then the sneer returned, and, turning to leave the room, he answered, carelessly,-- "You can tell your little story to other people, and when you have won a fortune on it, why, I'll be around for my share, as, whatever my doubts in other directions, I have not the slightest doubt that you are my mother, and therefore bound to support me.

But, for the present, if you please, I'll go by the old name of LaGrange.

It's a name that suits me very well yet, even though," and a strange look flashed at her from his dark eyes, "even though it may be only a borrowed one," and the door closed, for the last time, between mother and son.
A low moan escaped from the lips of the unhappy woman.