"You have had everything you could want; you had money, friends, and your family name. What have you done? Wasted them! You had your polo string and the ability to play a great game, but what came of it? You'd rather sit in the clubhouse and saturate yourself with drink and with the idle, parasitic thoughts of the crowd there! "You have dropped low and lower until, everything else gone, you are now wasting the last thing that belongs to you, the fundamental thing in life--your vitality! "Oh, don't try to protest! Those sacks under your eyes! Your shoulders aren't as straight as they were a year ago; you don't think as quickly as you did when making a pretense of playing polo; your hand isn't steady for a man of twenty-five. You're going; you're on the toboggan slide. "You have wasted yourself, flung yourself away, and not one act or thought of your experience has been worth the candle! Now--what will you take to get out?" The boy before him moved a slow step backward, and a flush came up over his drawn face. "You--" he began. Then he stopped and drew a hand across his eyes, beginning the movement slowly and ending with a savage jerk. "You never said a word before! You never intimated you thought this! You never--you--" He floundered heavily under the stinging conviction that of such was his only defense! "No!" snapped his father, after waiting for more to come. "I never said anything before--not like this. You smiled away whatever I suggested. Nothing mattered--nothing except debauchery. Now you've passed the limit You're a common drunk!" His voice rose high and higher; he commenced to gesticulate. "You live only to wreck yourself. Yours is the fault--and the blame! "It is natural for me to be concerned. I've hung on now too long, hoping that you would right yourself and justify the hopes people have had in you. I planned, years ago, to have you take up my work where I must soon leave off--to go on in my place, to finish my life for me as I began yours for you! I've had faith that you would do this, but you won't--you can't! "That isn't all. You're holding _me_ back. I must push on now harder than ever, but with the stench of your misdeeds always in my nostrils it is almost an impossibility." Danny raised his hands in a half-gesture of pleading, but the old man motioned him back. "Don't be sorry; don't try to explain. This had to come. It's an accumulation of years. I have no more faith in you. If I thought you could ever rally I'd give up everything and help you, but not once in your life have you shown me that you possessed one impulse to be of use." His voice dropped with each word, and its return to the cold normal sent a stiffness into the boy's spine. His head went up, his chin out; his hands closed slowly. "How much money will you take to get out?"