And he tossed it over the table to his son. George took it up, looked at it, and flushed crimson. It was a letter informing Sir George Craik that the writer held in his hands a dishonoured acceptance of his son’s for the sum of three hundred pounds, and that unless it was taken up within a week proceedings in bankruptcy would be instituted.
‘D——— the Jew!’ cried George. ‘I’ll wring his neck! He had no right to write to you!’
‘I suppose he thought it was the only way,’ returned the baronet; ‘but he is quite out in his calculations. If you suppose that I shall pay any more of your debts you are mistaken. I am quite tired of it all. You have played all your cards wrong and must take the consequences.’
George scowled more furiously than ever, but made no immediate reply. After a pause, however, he said in an injured way—‘I don’t know what you mean by playing my cards wrong. I have done my best. If my cousin Alma has given me the cold shoulder, because she has gone cranky on religion, it is no fault of mine.’
‘I am not astonished that she has thrown you over,’ cried Sir George. ‘What possible interest could a young girl of her disposition find in a fellow who bets away his last shilling, and covers his room with pictures of horses and portraits of jockeys and ballet girls? If you had had any common sense, you might at least have pretended to take some interest in her pursuits.’
‘I’m not a hypocrite,’ retorted George, ‘and I can’t talk atheism.’
‘Rubbish! You know as well as I do that Alma is a high-spirited girl, and only wants humouring. These new-fangled ideas of hers are absurd enough, but irritating opposition will never lead her to get rid of them.’
‘She’s in love with that fellow Bradley!’
‘Nothing of the kind. She is in love with her own wild fancies, which he is wise enough to humour, and you are indiscreet enough to oppose. If there had been anything serious between them, a marriage would have come off long ago; but, absurd as Alma is, she is not mad enough to throw herself away on a mere adventurer like that, without a penny in the world.’
‘What is a fellow to do?’ pleaded George, dolefully. ‘She snubs me more than ever!’