"No—Cooley—you're wrong. Like everyone else, you think I'm crazy for money. But I'm not—honest to God! I've had my fling and I'm through. I'm sick of Broadway, its rotten men and painted women. I'm sick of that idle, stupid existence which stifles every decent impulse a fellow may have. It's always the same, the same crowd, the same drinks and stunts, the same old headache the next morning. I tell you I'm through with that sort of life. I believe I was intended for something better, and, by God, I'm going to make the effort! These last two weeks I've actually respected myself because I've succeeded in making my board bill. Let Jimmy and mater enjoy the money. I want none of it. I tell you I'm going to win out by myself. You see if I don't! Here—have another drink!"
The lawyer laughed. This kind of talk from Tod was something entirely new. He wondered how much the champagne was responsible for it.
"Shall you go back to New York?" he asked.
"Oh, I suppose so," replied Tod carelessly. "I ought to go on general principles. I only came here on a brief visit."
"I sail to-morrow on the Adriatic," said the lawyer. "Come with me."
The young man shook his head.
"That's out of the question. I still have some business to attend to. I may go Saturday on the Touraine."
"Oh, then you'll be right behind me. I'll let them know you're on the way home."
"Tell Jimmy not to have all the money spent before I get there," grinned Tod.
The lawyer made a move towards the door.