'I think I would write, Owen, but Howel won't hear of it; he gets furious if I even name Glanyravon, and can't bear any of 'em except you.'
'Netta, I think you must use your influence to keep Howel from so much horse-racing and betting and card-playing.'
'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a passion when I advise him.'
'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think what my mother—'
'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'
Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.
'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'
'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you? and they say she has a large fortune in France.'
'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards Sundays.'
'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was only Saturday night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'