Now, I have decided.
She understands my financial situation. She knows that I am almost
entirely dependent on you for support at present. If it had not
been for the war and my confounded ill-health, I should, of course,
have been quite independent by this time. I have explained my
present unbearable situation to her in a general sort of way, and
I know that she is in complete sympathy with me. Your resolve to
not increase my allowance is, I suppose, irrevocable. I shall soon
be in a position, I hope, to dispense with what you are already so
gracious as to allow me. I have not deemed it wise to tell her at
this time of my unfortunate and, as you say, foolish mismanagement
of my affairs before and after father's death. When all is said and
done, he didn't leave me very much. It went before I quite knew
what was happening, and I submit that it was bad judgment due to my
youth rather than to recklessness, as old Mumford claims. I'll make
him eat his words some day. Thanks for your cheque. You are a darling.
You're the best mother a fellow ever had. I quite understand your
position, so don't lose a moment's sleep thinking that I may be
resenting your decision. I shall manage very nicely on what you
give me. It is ample for my present needs. I shall probably find it
rather humiliating when it comes time for a wedding journey, but,
bless your dear old heart, I'll manage somehow.
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