“So am I, for Auntie's sake and yours. I realize I have made you a lot of—ah—trouble.”
“Oh, that's all right, that's all right. Hang it all, I feel like a beast to chuck you out this way, but I have partners, you know. What will you do now?”
“I don't know.”
Cousin Gussie reflected. “I think perhaps you'd better go back to Aunt Clarissa,” he said. “Possibly she will tell you what to do. Don't you think she will?”
“Yes.”
“Humph! You seem to be mighty sure of it. How do you know she will?”
For the first time a gleam, a very slight and almost pathetic gleam, of humor shone behind Galusha's spectacles.
“Because she always does,” he said. And thus ended his connection with the banking profession.
Aunt Clarissa was disgusted and disappointed, of course. She expressed her feelings without reservation. However, she laid most of the blame upon heredity.
“You got it from that impractical librarian,” she declared. “Why did Dorothy marry him? She might have known what the result would be.”