“Now, look here, George—why’re you so damn suspicious? I’m older’n you and I’ve been all through the game. Let me tell you, my boy, you’re trying to get in the wrong way. There’s nothing in that there end of the game. A fellow who works for the people works for somebody that’s got nothing, and is a fool, to boot. Get in right, George. Work for them as can and will do something for you.”
“Oh, I’m not thinking of working for the people,” replied Helm, amused. “I’m working for myself—for my own amusement. I’ve made up my mind to have a good time in my life—not what you’d call a good time, perhaps, but the kind of a time that suits me. I don’t care for money—nor for the things money buys. I rather think the kind of woman I’d want wouldn’t want me—so I’m not going to have a wife and family to work for. I’ve decided to be my own boss—and to do as I damn please.”
“You’re a queer chap, for sure,” said Branagan. “But let me tell you one thing. A man that sets out to do as he pleases has got to have a lot of money—unless he pleases to be a hobo, or near it. You’d better wait till you’ve made your pile before you put your nose in the air.”
“I’ve thought of that,” said Helm. “Yes, I’ve got to have money. They can always do me up as long as I’m poor. But I’m going to make it in my own way.”
“I can help you,” said Branagan.
“Yes—you could,” admitted Helm.
“You’d not have to touch a cent that wasn’t perfectly honest graft.”
Helm laughed.
“What’s the joke?” demanded Branagan.
“I was thinking how plainly you were showing me your hand. How you must need me to travel clear across the State to see me, and then to talk straight out like this.”