Spreading it open on his desk, he laid the palm of his open hand on it.

"Not so?
I have got the proof of it here." He looked at the young man with level eyes, eyes in which was such a cold gleam that Ferdy's gaze fell.
"I did not expect you to do it for _me_," Aaron Wickersham went on slowly, never taking his eyes from his son's face, "for I had discovered that you did not care a button for my wishes; but I did think you would do it for your mother.

For she thought you were a god and worshipped you.

She has been talking for ten years of the time when she would go to see you come out at the head of your class.

She was going to Paris to get the clothes to wear if you won, and you--" His voice broke--"you won't even graduate! What will you think next summer when Mrs.Wentworth is there to see her son, and all the other men and women I know who have sons who graduate there, and your mother-- ?" The father's voice broke completely, and he looked away.