“A tangle of things.” She lowered her voice. “Drink.”
“Dear! Really! Was Mrs. Failing fond of him?”
“She used to be. She let him live at Cadover ever since he was a little boy. Naturally that cannot continue.”
Rickie never spoke.
“And now he has taken to be violent and rude,” she went on.
“In short, a beggar on horseback. Who is he? Has he got relatives?”
“She has always been both father and mother to him. Now it must all come to an end. I blame her—and she blames herself—for not being severe enough. He has grown up without fixed principles. He has always followed his inclinations, and one knows the result of that.”
Herbert assented. “To me Mrs. Failing’s course is perfectly plain. She has a certain responsibility. She must pay the youth’s passage to one of the colonies, start him handsomely in some business, and then break off all communications.”
“How funny! It is exactly what she is going to do.”
“I shall then consider that she has behaved in a thoroughly honourable manner.” He held out his plate for gooseberries. “His letter to Varden was neither helpful nor sympathetic, and, if written at all, it ought to have been both. I am not in the least surprised to learn that he has turned out badly. When you write next, would you tell her how sorry I am?”