“He owns a big farm, and it pays, and he has got an interest in a mine, and—”
“I tell you, you shan’t,” peevishly interjected Mrs. Tynan. “You shan’t. He’s vicious. He’s—oh, you shan’t! I’d rather—”
“You’d rather I threw myself away—on a married man?” asked Kitty covertly.
“My God—oh, Kitty!” said the other, breaking down. “You can’t mean it—oh, you can’t mean that you’d—”
“I’ve got to work out my case in my own way,” broke in Kitty calmly. “I know how I’ve got to do it. I have to make my own medicine—and take it. You say John Sibley is vicious. He has only got one vice.”
“Isn’t it enough? Gambling—”
“That isn’t a vice; it’s a sport. It’s the same as Mr. Crozier had. Mr. Crozier did it with horses only, the other does it with cards and horses. The only vice John Sibley’s got is me.”
“Is you?” asked her mother bewilderedly.
“Well, when you’ve got an idea you can’t control and it makes you its slave, it’s a vice. I’m John’s vice, and I’m thinking of trying to cure him of it—and cure myself too,” Kitty added, folding and unfolding the paper in her hand.
“Here comes the Young Doctor,” said her mother, turning towards the house. “I think you don’t mean to marry Sibley, but if you do, make him give up gambling.”