"You shall not see her, if I can help it," cried his former friend. "And if you persist in annoying her——"
"Don't make futile threats, Tetlow," Norman interrupted. "You've done me all the mischief you can do. I see you hate me for the injuries you've done me. That's the way it always is. But I don't hate you. It was at my suggestion that the Lockyer firm is trying to get you back as a partner." Then, as Tetlow colored—"Oh, I see you're accepting their offer."
"If I had thought——"
"Nonsense. You're not a fool. How does it matter whose the hand, if only it's a helping hand? And you may be sure they'd never have made you the offer if they didn't need you badly. All the credit I claim is having the intelligence to enlighten their stupidity with the right suggestion."
In spite of himself Tetlow was falling under the spell of Norman's personality, of the old and deep admiration the lesser man had for the greater.
"Norman," he said, "how can you be such a combination of bigness and petty deviltry? You are a monster of self-indulgence. It's a God's mercy there aren't more men with your selfishness and your desires."
Norman laughed sardonically. "The difference between me and most men," said he, "isn't in selfishness or in desires, but in courage. Courage, Billy—there's what most of you lack. And even in courage I'm not alone. My sort fill most of the high places."
Tetlow looked dismal confession of a fear that Norman was right.
"Yes," pursued Norman, "in this country there are enough wolves to attend to pretty nearly all the sheep—though it's amazing how much mutton there is." With an abrupt shift from raillery, "You'll help me with her, Billy?"
"Why don't you let her alone, Fred?" pleaded Tetlow. "It isn't worthy of you—a big man like you. Let her alone, Fred!—the poor child, trying to earn her own living in an honest way."