"Still, if I were you, I should go slow. The real-estate market is an uncertain thing, after all."
"Of course it is," he answered, mechanically
Since I bought that Brooklyn parcel and refused to go into further real-estate operations he had never approached me with business schemes again. There was not the slightest alloy of self-interest in his friendship, and he was careful not to have it appear that there was. He never initiated me into the details of his speculations, lest I should offer him a loan. He was quite squeamish about it
One day I offered him a hundred-dollar check for The Pen, the Hebrew weekly with which he was connected and upon which I knew him to spend more than he could afford
"I don't want it," he said, reddening and shaking his head
"Why?" I asked, also reddening
I was sorely hurt and he noticed it
"I know that you do it whole-heartedly," he hastened to explain, "but I don't want to feel that you do it for my sake."
"But I don't do it for your sake. I just want to help the paper. Can't I—" He interrupted me with assurances of his regard for me and for my motives, and accepted the check.
Was he dreaming of Anna ultimately agreeing to marry me—and my money? He certainly considered me a most desirable match. But I felt sure that he was fond of me on my personal account and that he would have liked to have me for his son-in-law even if my income had not exceeded three or four thousand dollars a year. He did not share the radical views of his children. He was much nearer to my point of view than they