"
Harold had turned a little pale as he heard Mrs. Westmacott's opinion of
his senior partner. It gave shape and substance to certain vague fears
and suspicions of his own which had been pushed back as often as they
obtruded themselves as being too monstrous and fantastic for belief.
"He is a well-known man in the City, dad," said he.
"Of course he is--of course he is. That is what I told her. They would
have found him out there if anything had been amiss with him. Bless
you, there's nothing so bitter as a family quarrel. Still it is just as
well that you have written about this affair, for we may as well have
all fair and aboveboard."
But Harold's letter to his partner was crossed by a letter from his
partner to Harold. It lay awaiting him upon the breakfast table next
morning, and it sent the heart into his mouth as he read it, and caused
him to spring up from his chair with a white face and staring eyes.
"My boy! My boy!"
"I am ruined, mother--ruined!" He stood gazing wildly in front of him,
while the sheet of paper fluttered down on the carpet. Then he dropped
back into the chair, and sank his face into his hands. His mother had
her arms round him in an instant, while the Admiral, with shaking
fingers, picked up the letter from the floor and adjusted his glasses to
read it.
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