His mother smiled, and there was a strange touch of triumph in her smile.
“It is a first-rate business,” she assented, “if one lives it among the right people and in the right position. I imagine you see by this time that it isn’t much use otherwise!”
He laughed as though his appreciation of her words rendered them almost a truism to him, and there was a moment’s silence. It was broken by Julian.
“It costs a lot of money,” he said, in a casual, indefinite way, but with a quick glance at his mother.
“Well, it isn’t cheap, certainly,” was the laughing answer: “but I think we shall manage.” Then noticing something a little deprecating about his pose and expression, Mrs. Romayne added, with mock reprehension, “You’re not going to ask me to raise your allowance, you extravagant boy?”
Julian moved, and leaning forward, clasped his hands round one knee as if the uncomfortable and transitory pose assisted explanation. He laughed back at her, but he was looking nevertheless somewhat ashamed of himself.
“No, it’s not that—exactly,” he began rather lamely. “It’s a splendid allowance, mother dear, and I’m no end grateful; but the fact is, there has been a good deal of card-playing lately at the club. I don’t care for cards, you know, but one must play a bit, and I have been rather a fool. Look here, dear, I suppose—I suppose you couldn’t let me have two hundred, could you—before we go away, you know?”
“Two hundred, Julian! My dear boy!”
There was a strong tone of surprise and remonstrance in Mrs. Romayne’s voice, and there was also a very distinct note of annoyance; but all these sentiments seemed rather to apply to the demand, which was apparently unseasonable, than to the desirability of the transaction. She was neither startled nor distressed.
“It is young Fordyce, mother,” continued her son deprecatingly. “It was awfully foolish to play with him, he’s so beastly lucky. And you see I must settle it before I go away.”