"Oh"--the lad twitched impatient shoulders. Stuart had not mentioned how asceticism could be made to work in with love. He must be questioned presently on the subject.
"Don't be a fool, Sebastian," advised his father suddenly; "Come, what's it all about?"
The quick change from levity to kindliness, touched the boy almost to the point of explaining what were the ideals that had induced him to strip himself so dramatically of the world's goods. And yet--how to put into words that uncomfortable stinging creed which he hated, and which yet held his brain as in a sort of vice, fascinated his thoughts to the exclusion even of Letty? And then that weak longing to impress Heron, prove that he understood his doctrines to the point of sacrifice--damn Heron! perhaps now he would condescend to talk to his disciple, instead of making polite enquiries _re_ Letty's health. And, finally, that glimpse of an after-dinner hour in the well-furnished, well-warmed, well-appointed smoking-room--conflict of winds carefully shut out--doors that would not bang--waiters who walked noiselessly--conversation on stocks and shares and politics, carefully calculated not to excite the torpid brain.... Oh, Lord! would he grow, or rather dwindle, thus, if he went into his father's business and accepted chunks of his father's income? Was he started on that way, the night he had prattled so absurdly of his happiness to Stuart?... _Damn_ Stuart! always the point swung back to that imperturbable gentleman. And how could a fellow explain to Levi, of The Stores, High Holborn, the bewildering and topsy-turvy morality of the shears? Sebastian plunged--fatally:
"It's just because of myself, father. It isn't that I feel in the least that I oughtn't to be enjoying my income because other people have less. But I think--I know I'm better without your money."
The effect of his speech was electrical. Quite suddenly, Ned Levi began to bellow.
"So that's it, is it? And I'm to sit here and thank you for the honour, am I? Well, you can go--anywhere; do anything; I don't care. I've done with you. If my money isn't good enough, you needn't touch it. Want a purer sort of gold, do you? I knew this was bound to happen some day. That's what one has a son for." And still muttering incoherent commands to Sebastian to get out of his sight, the agitated old man himself lumbered from the room, his hand trembling, his grey eyelashes stiff with rage. Sebastian's unfortunate phrasing had hit his father on a dread quite unsuspected; dread that one day his only son, born to the best of everything, would be ashamed of the way the Levi wealth had been amassed; ashamed of trade; ashamed of his humble parentage.