Lady Carbury, as she turned this counsel in her mind, thought of all the hopes which she had indulged,--her literary aspirations, her Tuesday evenings, her desire for society, her Brounes, her Alfs, and her Bookers, her pleasant drawing-room, and the determination which she had made that now in the afternoon of her days she would become somebody in the world. Must she give it all up and retire to the dreariness of some French town because it was no longer possible that she should live in London with such a son as hers? There seemed to be a cruelty in this beyond all cruelties that she had hitherto endured. This was harder even than those lies which had been told of her when almost in fear of her life she had run from her husband's house. But yet she must do even this if in no other way she and her son could be together. "Yes," she said, "I suppose it would be so. I only wish that I might die, so that were an end of it."
"He might go out to one of the Colonies," said Roger.

Lady Carbury thought of all the hopes she had indulged - her literary aspirations, her Tuesday evenings, her Brounes, her Alfs, and her Bookers, her pleasant drawing-room, and her determination to become somebody in the world. Must she give it all up and retire to some dreary French town because of her son? This seemed to be crueller than all cruelties that she had hitherto endured. Yet she must do this if in no other way could she and her son be together.
"Yes," she said, "I suppose it would be so. I only wish that I might die, so that were an end of it."
"He might go out to one of the Colonies," said Roger.
