"I guess your mother thinks he's comin' to see Edith pretty often, and you known him longer'n any of us, so--" "I won't," said Roscoe, thickly--"I won't say a dam' thing about him!" Sheridan uttered an exclamation and walked quickly to a position near the window where he could see his son's face.

Roscoe's eyes were bloodshot and vacuous; his hair was disordered, his mouth was distorted, and he was deathly pale.

The father stood aghast.
"By George!" he muttered.

"ROSCOE!" "My name," said Roscoe.

"Can' help that." "ROSCOE!" Blank astonishment was Sheridan's first sensation.