"Indeed!" I said, with an air of incredulity.
"Well, he is young, to begin with. And he has gifts, and I have none; do you wonder that I envy him a little?"
"Yes, I do wonder," I answered. "I thought you were very well satisfied with yourself and your lot."
"Lately I have become dissatisfied. Mine is an empty life, and I'm beginning to grow disgusted with it. As to Ronald, he gets all the good things that he wants."
I only said: "Does he?"
"I am sure you know that he does. I am no judge of such matters, but I have heard it said that he has a way which no woman can resist. It must have been his Aunt Inez who gave him those tragic, musing eyes, and that look of unfathomable sorrow which he puts on sometimes. It is all very effective."
I gathered up my energies and succeeded, I believe, in preserving a tolerably calm face.
"Good-bye," he said. Then stepping back, he added, in an easy tone: "We were speaking of hereditary traits; by the way, there is one trait which Ronald has inherited from his father."
"What is that?" I foolishly asked.
"A love of gambling."