"It is for you, sir," said the son, rubbing his eyes with the hand which supported his head.
"My grief in the matter might soon be cured."
"How shall I cure it? I will do anything to cure it."
"Let Major Tifto and the horses go."
"They are gone," said Silverbridge energetically, jumping from his chair as he spoke. "I will never own a horse again, or a part of a horse. I will have nothing more to do with races. You will believe me?"
"I will believe anything that you tell me."
"I won't say I will not go to another race, because—"
"No; no. I would not have you hamper yourself. Nor shall you bind yourself by any further promises. You have done with racing."
"Indeed, indeed I have, sir."
Then the father came up to the son and put his arms round the young man's shoulders and embraced him. "Of course it made me unhappy."