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The Strange Case of Cavendish by Randall Parrish
page 5 of 344 (01%)
table.

"Won't you join us?" he said nervously.

Frederick Cavendish's trim, bearded jaw tightened and he shook his
head. "They are not my people," he said shortly, then retreating,
begged, "John, when are you going to cut that sort out?"

"You make me weary!" the boy snapped. "It's easy enough for you to
talk when you've got all the money--that gives you an excuse to read me
moral homilies every time I ask you for a dollar, but Miss La Rue is as
good as any of your friends any day."

The other controlled himself. "What is it you want?" he demanded
directly: "Money? If so, how much?"

"A hundred will do," the younger man said eagerly. "I lost a little on
cards lately, and have to borrow. To-night I met the girl----"

Frederick Cavendish silenced him and tendered him the bills. "Now," he
said gravely, "this is the last, unless--unless you cut out such people
as Celeste La Rue and others that you train with. I'm tired of paying
bills for your inane extravagances and parties. I can curtail your
income and what's more, I will unless you change."

"Cut me off?" The younger Cavendish's voice took on an incredulous
note.

The other nodded. "Just that," he said. "You've reached the limit."

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