The Son of his Father. Cullum Ridgwell

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The Son of his Father - Cullum Ridgwell

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       Ridgwell Cullum

      The Son of his Father

      Published by Good Press, 2021

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066206833

       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       CHAPTER VIII

       CHAPTER IX

       CHAPTER X

       CHAPTER XI

       CHAPTER XII

       CHAPTER XIII

       CHAPTER XIV

       CHAPTER XV

       CHAPTER XVI

       CHAPTER XVII

       CHAPTER XVIII

       CHAPTER XIX

       CHAPTER XX

       CHAPTER XXI

       CHAPTER XXII

       CHAPTER XXIII

       CHAPTER XXIV

       CHAPTER XXV

       CHAPTER XXVI

       He drew her gently towards his father

       Table of Contents

      UNREPENTANT

      "To wine, women and gambling, at the age of twenty-four—one hundred thousand dollars. That's your bill, my boy, and—I've got to pay it."

      James Carbhoy leaned back smiling, his half-humorous eyes squarely challenging his son, who was lounging in a luxurious morocco chair at the other side of the desk.

      As the moments passed without producing any reply, he reached towards the cabinet at his elbow and helped himself to a large cigar. Without any scruple he tore the end off it with his strong teeth and struck a match.

      "Well?"

      Gordon Carbhoy cleared his throat and looked serious. In spite of his father's easy, smiling manner he knew that a crisis in his affairs had been reached. He understood the iron will lying behind the pleasant steel-gray eyes of his parent. It was a will that flinched at nothing, a will that had carved for its owner a great fortune in America's most strenuous financial arena, the railroad world. He also knew the only way in which to meet his father's challenge with any hope of success. Above everything else the millionaire demanded courage and manhood—manhood as he understood it—from those whom he regarded well.

      "I'm waiting."

      Gordon stirred. The millionaire carefully lit his cigar.

      "Put that way it—sounds rotten, Dad, doesn't it?" Gordon's mobile lips twisted humorously, and he also reached towards the cigar cabinet.

      But the older man intercepted him. He held out a box of lesser cigars.

      "Try one of these, Gordon. One of the others would add two dollars to your bill. These are half the price."

      The two men smiled into each other's eyes. A great devotion lay between them. But their regard was not likely to interfere with the business in hand.

      Gordon helped himself. Then he rose from his chair. He moved across the handsome room, towering enormously. His six feet three inches were well matched by a great pair of athletic shoulders. His handsome face bore no traces of the fast living implied by the enormous total of his debts. The wholesome tan of outdoor sports left him a fine specimen of the more brilliant youth of America. Then, too, in his humorous blue eyes lay an extra dash of recklessness, which was probably due to his superlative physical advantages. He came back to his chair and propped his vast body on the back of it. His father was watching him affectionately.

      "Dad," he exclaimed, "I'm—sorry."

      The other shook his head.

      "Don't say that. It's not true. I'd hate it to be true—anyway."

      Gordon's

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