“You should know I don’t mean all I say when I am angry. However, if my tongue’s to blame, I’m sorry for it. Go on!”
“I know I ought to have told you,” Hubert muttered. “And I wish to God I had, instead of — ” He broke off, drew a breath, and started again. “I thought I might be able to come about. I — you won’t like this! You need not tell me it was wrong, for I know that! But other fellows — ”
“Well, I won’t tell you it was wrong, then. But let me know what it was, for I am quite in the dark as yet!”
“I went with — a man I know — to a — a place in Pall Mall. And another in St. James’s Place. Roulette, and French Hazard! And I lost the devil of a sum of money!”
“Oh, my God!” Mr. Rivenhall exclaimed sharply. “Have we not had enough of that in this family?”
The bitterness in his voice, grown suddenly harsh, made Hubert wince and retire behind a barrier of sullenness. “Well, I knew you would be in a rage, but I don’t see that it was so very bad! I wish I had not had such infamous luck, but everyone plays, after all!”
It seemed for a moment as though his brother would have returned a stinging answer, but he checked himself and walked over to the window instead, and stood frowning out. After a pause, he said abruptly, “Do you know the sum of my father’s gaming debts?”
Hubert was surprised, for the subject had never before been mentioned between them. He replied, “No. That is, I do know that they must have been rather heavy, of course, but I never heard the exact sum.”
Mr. Rivenhall told him.
There was a stunned silence. Hubert broke it at last. “But — but — My God, Charles! You’re — you’re not bamming me, are you?”