[Marcello's tolerance was dropping the more Angelo spoke. He pulled back the covers as he felt around them, and pulled up his legs and swung them around. He leaned forward slightly as he climbed out of bed, into a space where he had to imagine what was around him.]

That's right. Forgive me, little brother; I am afraid my existence was an affront to your sainted mother. Whom I suppose must have been a guardian angel to stand by and watch a young boy be cast out of his home. Surely I hurt her deeply at such a young age that I deserved such treatment.

[There was plenty about his brother's mother that he knew, that Angelo didn't. As far as he was concerned, he was going to shatter that illusion.]

I have to observe that you have always been a poor judge of character as far as your family is concerned.