Then, suddenly--as at a whiff of gardenias and cigars--his heart twitched within him, and he was sorry.

One's father belonged to one, could not go off in this fashion--it was not done! Nor had he always been the 'bounder' of the Pandemonium promenade.

There were precious memories of tailors' shops and horses, tips at school, and general lavish kindness, when in luck.
"But why ?" he said.

Then, as a sportsman himself, was sorry he had asked.

The mask of his mother's face was all disturbed; and he burst out: "All right, Mother, don't tell me! Only, what does it mean ?" "A divorce, Val, I'm afraid." Val uttered a queer little grunt, and looked quickly at his uncle--that uncle whom he had been taught to look on as a guarantee against the consequences of having a father, even against the Dartie blood in his own veins.