The Son of His Father

"To wine, women and gambling, at the age of twenty-four-one hundred thousand dollars. That's your bill, my boy, and-I've got to pay it." James Carbhoy leaned back smiling, his half-humorous eyes squarely challenging his son, who was lounging in a luxurious morocco chair at the other side of the desk. As the moments passed without producing any reply, he reached towards the cabinet at his elbow and helped himself to a large cigar. Without any scruple he tore the end off it with his strong teeth and struck a match.