"Ruination, Philp tells me—that's if you choose to believe Philp."
"I've better information than Philp's, I'm sorry to say."
"Whose?"
"Fancy Tabb's."
"She didn' tell me so when I saw her to-day."—(And good reason for why, thought Cai.)—"Still, if she told you, you may lay there's some truth in it. That child don't speak at random. I don't see, though, as it makes much difference, up or down?"
"No difference?"
"I didn' say 'no difference.' I said 'not much.' Ruination's not much to a man already down with a stroke."
"Oh, . . . him?" said Cai. "To tell the truth, I wasn't thinkin' about Rogers, not at this moment."
"No?" queried 'Bias sourly. "Then maybe I'm doin' you an injustice. I thought you might be pushin' your way in here to suggest our doin' something for the poor chap." Before Cai had well recovered from this, 'Bias went on, "And if so, I'd have answered you that I didn' intend to be any such fool."
"I—I'm afraid," owned Cai, "my thought wasn' anything like so unselfish. It concerned you and me, rather."