"You look a little pulled down," Mr. Braden commented. "Perhaps a change would do you good."
"If I could change the last thirty years for the next thirty, it might," French agreed grimly.
"None of us get younger," said Mr. Braden. "I myself begin to feel the—er—burden of the years."
"You're not old. It's the burden of your fat."
"Ha-ha!" Mr. Braden laughed without much mirth. "But what seems to be the matter with you?"
"The life that is behind me," French replied. "You can't eat your cake and have it. But what the devil is the use of cake if you don't eat it? I've eaten my cake and enjoyed it, and I'm quite willing to pay when the times comes. All flesh is as grass, Braden—even such a quantity as yours."
Mr. Braden shifted uneasily. Like many men he found any reference to his ultimate extinction unpleasant.
"Oh, yes, yes, of course we must all pay our debt to nature. No hurry about it, though. We have a number of things to do first."
"We merely think we have," French returned. "It wouldn't matter in the least if we both snuffed out to-night."
"It would matter to me," Mr. Braden declared with evident sincerity.