But we are not wholly barbarous here, Richard. This, for example, and no first-class New England city lacks culture.
I suppose there’s no use explaining, but what first-class New England cities regard as culture your real artist avoids as he would avoid poison.
Well, well. But circumstances—really, Richard, don’t you think it your duty to stay?
Must I explain? We are met, after a long separation, in circumstances personally sorrowful to me, and I trust, to some extent, to you as well. We....
Yes, a long separation.
I admit, Richard, that from your point of view my attitude has not always been as—as considerate, perhaps, as you might have expected. But I have been a very busy man, and—
As far as I am concerned, uncle, I have nothing to blame you for; but my mother....
Your mother? Surely, Richard, your mother never criticised me to you? She was much too fine a woman. Besides, I helped her in many ways you may know nothing about.
No, mother said nothing. She wouldn’t have, anyhow—and as far as your helping her is concerned, I can only judge of that by results.
Results? What do you mean? I have no desire to catalogue the things I have done for one who was near to me, but—
That’s all very well, uncle, and I have no criticism to make. What’s over is over. But when you speak of my duty to you, I think of how mother died so young, and how I found out afterward her affairs were so difficult. I had no idea—she sacrificed herself for me so long that I took it for granted. But I think that you, as a business man, must have known.
You found that everything was mortgaged? Well, Richard, it pains me to recall these things. Your father, unfortunately, was a poor business man. As for the mortgage, Richard, I held that myself.