"I believe it is father's fault largely," said Kathleen. "He began by spoiling you."
"Then, if I'm spoiled, what's the use of kicking?—and if he's done it he must pay for it; but that's just what he won't do—pay for it."
The speaker stubbed the light out of his cigarette and tossed it on the table. He rose and walked the floor.
"He has put you in his office," said Kathleen. "He will give you every chance to rise."
"Yes, and meanwhile pays me a salary smaller than the allowance he gave me at college."
"Because," said the girl, "he found that you couldn't even keep within that. He knew you must wake up."
"What occasion?" demanded Edgar, standing still to gesture. "I'm the only son. Look at the money he has."
"And has worked for; worked for, Edgar. Can't you understand? Supposing you had worked like that, and had a son who dipped into the bag with both hands and threw your money away."
"I don't want to throw it away. I get one hundred cents' worth of fun out of every dollar I spend. What more does he want? I didn't ask to be born, did I? I didn't ask to have expensive tastes. Why should I have to ride in a taxicab?"
"You don't. There are the street cars."