"I'll assume all Mr. Copley's responsibilities, Dolly," he said with rash decision—"if you'll smile upon me."
"Assume?—Oh, did you think I meant that?" cried Dolly, while a furious flush came up into her face. "What a notion you must have of Americans, Mr. St. Leger! Do you think father would make over his responsibilities to another man? I did not mean anything so impossible as that."
"Forgive me Then what did you mean?"
"Perhaps something as impossible," said Dolly sadly, while the flush slowly paled. "I meant—couldn't you—could you—I don't know but it is just as impossible!"——
"Could I, what? I could do most things, if you wished it, Dolly."
"Then you must not call me that till I give you leave. I was going to say, could you perhaps do anything to get my father away from this habit, or pleasure"——
"Of betting?"
"Betting—and cards—it's all the same. He never used to do it. Can you help, Mr. St. Leger?"
Dolly's face was a sort of a marvel. It was so childlike, it was so womanly; it was so innocent, and it was so forceful. Lawrence looked, and would have liked to do the impossible; but what could he? It was specially at his own father's card-table, he knew, that Mr. Copley had lost money; it was wholly in his father's society that he had been initiated into the fascination of wagers—and of something else. Could he go against his own father? and how could he? and himself a player, though a very cautious one, how should he influence another man not to play?
"Miss Copley—I am younger than your father"—— Lawrence began.