They've even got your smile.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Don't gloat, my boy; don't gloat over it.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
I won't. It is hard lines on you. (Throws paper down on easy-chair.) What will you do?
MR. BEN DIXON.
I don't know. I must think. I wonder if your stepmother's seen it?
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Some friend of yours will send it to her, you bet.