âRonnie is a great trial to me,â said Mrs. Attray plaintively. âOnly eighteen years old last February and already a confirmed gambler. I am sure I donât know where he inherits it from; his father never touched cards, and you know how little I playâ âa game of bridge on Wednesday afternoons in the winter, for threepence a hundred, and even that I shouldnât do if it wasnât that Edith always wants a fourth and would be certain to ask that detestable Jenkinham woman if she couldnât get me. I would much rather sit and talk any day than play bridge; cards are such a waste of time, I think. But as to Ronnie, bridge and baccarat and poker-patience are positively all that he thinks about. Of course Iâve done my best to stop it; Iâve asked the Norridrums not to let him play cards when heâs over there, but you might as well ask the Atlantic Ocean to keep quiet for a crossing as expect them to bother about a motherâs natural anxieties.â
âWhy do you let him go there?â asked Eleanor Saxelby.