it, you see. Some dream that. The cash rolled in. Bernie had everything he wanted. I sent him to the best schools — private schools. I meant to make a gentleman of him. Never had any chance myself. Meant he should have every chance. He went through McGill. Got honours and all that. I wanted him to go in for law. He hankered after journalism and stuff like that. Wanted me to buy a paper for him — or back him in publishing what he called a ‘real, worthwhile, honest-to-goodness Canadian Magazine.’ I s’pose I’d have done it — I always did what he wanted me to do. Wasn’t he all I had to live for? I wanted him to be happy. And he never was happy. Can you believe it? Not that he said so. But I’d always a feeling that he wasn’t happy. Everything he wanted — all the money he could spend — his