“Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck to the heart of my mystery.”
“But the money, you seem to need that. Money is a good thing to have.”
“‘Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.’ It is true. Ah! but how can I thus lower myself?”
“As you have said, the good old days are past. It is useless to live for them. Live for the present—and the future. Money is base stuff, but we must have it. Come, come; I know you can do the part. We’ll get along splendidly.”
“‘Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.’ As Cassius saith, ‘Men at some time in their lives are masters of their fates;’ but I think for me that time is past. But forty dollars—ye gods!”
“It is better than reading to a scant dozen listeners at crossroads schoolhouses.”
“Ah, well! You take advantage of my needs. I accept. But I must have a dollar at once, with which to purchase that which will drown the shame my heart doth feel.”
“You shall have the dollar,” assured Frank. “Come along with us, and we will complete arrangements.”
So the old actor was borne away, outwardly sad, but inwardly congratulating himself on the greatest streak of luck he had come upon in many moons.