I know we are in a hole more or less, but----" "How lightly you speak of it! Who is to pay your debts?
You know how your gambling on the turf has ruined us--brought us to the very verge of disgrace and penury, and now, when you _can _help to set the old name straight again, you refuse--refuse!" She stops as if choking.
"I don't think my gambling debts are the actual cause of our worries," says her son, rather coldly.

"If I have wasted a few hundred on a race here and there, it is all I have done.

When the property came into my hands it was dipped very deeply." "You would accuse your father----" begins she hotly.
Rylton pauses.

"No; not my father," says he distinctly, if gently.
"You mean, then, that you accuse _me!"_ cries she, flashing round at him.
All at once her singularly youthful face grows as old as it ought to be--a vindictive curve round the mouth makes that usually charming feature almost repulsive.
"My dear mother, let us avoid a scene," says her son sternly.

"To tell you the truth, I have had too many of them of late." Something in his manner warns her to go no farther in the late direction.