suppose it has never occurred to you that there is some justice in the
much abused axiom that charity begins at home," said Mrs. Tresslyn
frigidly.

"Not in our home, however," said Anne. "That's where it ends, if it ends
anywhere."

"I have hesitated to speak to you about it, Anne, but I am afraid I shall
now have to confess that I am sorely pressed for money," said Mrs.
Tresslyn deliberately, and from that moment on she never ceased to employ
this argument in her crusade against Anne's ingratitude.

There was no estrangement. Neither of them could afford to go to such
lengths. They saw a great deal of each other, and, despite the constant
bickerings over the idle money, there was little to indicate that they
were at loggerheads. Mrs. Tresslyn was forced at last to recognise the
futility of her appeals to Anne's sense of duty, and contented herself
with occasional bitter references to her own financial distress. She
couldn't understand the girl, and she gave up trying. As a matter of fact,
she began to fear that she would never be able to understand either one of
her children. She could not even imagine how they could have come by the
extraordinary stubbornness with which they appeared to be afflicted.

As for George Tresslyn, he was going to the dogs as rapidly and as
accurately as possible. He took to drink, and drink took him to cards. The
efforts of Simmy Dodge and other friends, including the despised Percy
Wintermill, were of no avail. He developed a pugnacious capacity for
resenting advice. It was easy to see what was behind the big boy's
behaviour: simple despair. He counted himself among the failures. In due
time he lost his position in Wall Street and became a complaining
dependent upon his mother's generosity. He met her arguments with the
furious and constantly reiterated charge that she had ruined his life.
That was another thing that Mrs. Tresslyn could not understand. How, in
heaven's name, had she ruined his life?

He took especial delight in directing her attention to the upward progress
of the discredited Lutie.

That attractive young person, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's disgust, actually
had insinuated her vulgar presence into comparatively good society, and
was coming on apace. Blithe, and gay, and discriminating, the former
"mustard girl" was making a place for herself among the moderately smart
people. Now and then her name appeared in the society columns of the
newspapers, where, much to Mrs. Tr