Dick still looked anxious. Was making all due allowance for the fact that literary fellows are inclined to be cranks. Yet was doubtful whether the man with his back to the door was not overstepping the limits of legitimate and traditional crankiness.
"It matters a deal!"
Masters uttered these words so fiercely that—in no way relieved—Dick said:
"Does it? Well then, Prince, old fellow, if you're so anxious about my future as all that, I'll relieve your anxiety. I can truthfully tell you that I have never set eyes on a girl yet that I should be at all likely to marry. Wine's been my trouble, not women."
Once more the black blood surged up; a curtain seemed to come up before Masters' eyes; a thick misty curtain blotting things out. But he knew he must keep his temper in hand; exhibit only calmness. He would gain more that way: for the child's sake—for her sake.
"Dick." He spoke with all the earnestness in him. "Awhile back you spoke of being grateful to me. Said you would do anything to—to please me."
"So I would, old fellow; so I would. On my soul I would! But I wish to goodness you would lie——"
Dick's hand was placed soothingly on his companion's shoulder, as he spoke. Masters bore it, but interrupted expression of the wish that he would lie down; said:
"Suppose I put you to the test? If I ask you to marry your girl, will you do it?"
"No!"