"I mean every word," she returned, with not a little asperity. "And I'm not cheating you. You've made a mess of your life, left to yourself. Now I'm going to help you. I'm tired of suffering for your sins!" Suddenly the quality of her voice changed completely and her eyes glistened suggestively. "Oh, Roger lad, can't you understand? Can't you see that I do so want you to make something of yourself? You're the only thing I have in the world. Can't you see how it hurts me to have people feel a contempt for you? I'm the only mother you've ever had. I know I haven't done a millionth part of what I should have done for you. I've failed--miserably. I know that. All your weaknesses are due to me. You aren't to blame. This is my last chance. You're slipping, Roger--slipping down. This is my last chance to catch you--before--before ... it's too late. Judge Wolcott agrees: I talked it over with him. Oh, I'm sorry, lad. You haven't an idea how sorry! It breaks my heart to be cruel to you this way--but I've got to be, Roger. I've got to be--can't you understand? Please say you do." She put her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against his. But he shook her off roughly. "That's all very fine talk," he snapped savagely, "but it doesn't mean anything. Who the devil is old Wolcott to worry about my morals...?" "As Molly's father he...." "Molly can take care of herself. But that isn't the point. What I want to know is where Wolcott gets the right to monkey with my affairs. And as for you--if you're going to cheat me out of what's mine--for the love of heaven, do it, but don't make it worse with all this high and mighty talk. It makes me tired." "Please, Roger...." The tears in her eyes were plain now. "Maybe I am all the pleasant things you say I am. Maybe I haven't got sense enough to take care of my own money. But what are you? I never noticed any wings on your shoulders." "You don't understand. I...." "Understand? Of course I don't understand. That's why I'm asking the question. If I'm what you say I am--what are you? Where'd you get your preaching card?" "What difference does it make what I am?" "It makes a lot of difference. If you're so hot on reforming me, why don't you take a crack at yourself? I don't see that you're so almighty angelic. What have _you_ ever done in the world? You can play the piano after a fashion and sing, and talk a little French, and play cards and smoke cigarettes and drink cocktails and ... well, what else can you do? You spend twice as much money as I do, and I'll be hanged if I can see that you spend it to much better advantage. If I'm a waster and no account and a bad egg, you're one too. The only difference is that you wear skirts and I don't. Well--why don't you answer me?" He towered over her, white with his rising rage. "I say, why don't you answer me?" he repeated hotly. "You don't need to be rude," she answered, her voice trembling.