"The days dragged horribly. Somehow in the absence of real courage I developed a dogged determination that I would live. When I reached New York on my return North, I had too little strength to write a letter or to sit upright for more than a few moments. But the worst was over, and I knew it. It had become only a question of time. Step by step I have advanced until you see me as I am to-day."
My friend listened intently.
"And you don't want to fall into the old slough again," he remarked.
"No, and I never will," I said, with earnestness. "Now, listen: I realize that I was a year ago a slave to certain vices. Yes, let us give them the unconventional name. If I go off alone to some distant part of the world, what is to prevent my beginning again on the old road and ending where I did before? I could take a male companion, but do you imagine he would have any influence with me if I started to go wrong? At best he would be but a servant. If he tried to stand in the way of anything I wanted, the result is certain; he would get his walking papers de suite. I have no mother, no sister. The only woman I ever thought of marrying has coldly declined my offer. Let me go in the company of a woman that is what she should be, and I will return a different man altogether."
Still Hume did not laugh. I was more grateful for this consideration than I can describe, for I was really very much in earnest. I was like the drowning man, clutching at what seemed to me a life-preserver.
"How old are you?" asked Hume. "Twenty-five?"
"What age would you prefer your secretary to be?"
"About the same. I could not endure an old maid, and I do not wish to undertake the care of a child."
"Won't it be hard to find a woman of twenty-four years with the skill and judgment that your situation seems to require?"