He wore the morning dress of a City
man, with collar and necktie of the latest fashion; his watchguard was
rather demonstrative, and he had two very solid rings on his left hand.
'Ah, dad, how do you do!' he exclaimed, on entering, in an affected
head-voice. 'Why, what's the matter?'
Mr. Daffy had drawn back, refusing the offered hand. With an unpleasant
smile Charles turned to his other visitor.
'Mr. Lott, isn't it! You're looking well, Mr. Lott; but I suppose you
didn't come here just to give me the pleasure of seeing you. I'm rather a
busy man; perhaps one or the other of you will be good enough to break this
solemn silence, and let me know what your game is.'
He spoke with careless impertinence, and let himself drop on to a chair.
The others remained standing, and Mr. Daffy broke into vehement speech.
'I have come here, Charles, to ask what you mean by disgracing yourself and
dishonouring my name. Only yesterday, for the first time, I heard of the
life you are leading. Is this how you repay me for all the trouble I took
to have you well educated, and to make you an honest man? Here I find you
living in luxury and extravagance--and how? On stolen money--money as much
stolen as if you were a pickpocket or a burglar! A pleasant thing for me to
have all my friends talking about Charles Daffy, the bookmaker and the
moneylender! What _right_ have you to dishonour your father in this way? I
ask, what _right_ have you, Charles?'
Here the speaker, who had struggled to gasp his last sentence, was overcome
with a violent fit of coughing.
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