“Oh, an independent man like me, who asks nothing of anybody, can afford that sort of thing. But you, who are dependent upon others for the success of your plans—that’s very different.”
“Um,” grunted Richmond, little pleased but much struck by this new view of him as slave, not master. “Um.” A long pause, with Richmond the more embarrassed because Roger’s silence seemed natural and easy, like that of a statue or of a man alone. “I also—I also wish to say,” Richmond resumed, “that on thinking the matter over I feel I did you an injustice in believing you—in accusing you—” He could not find a satisfactory word frame for his idea.
“In suspecting I was after your daughter and your money?” suggested Roger with an amused, ironic twinkle.
“Something like that. But, Mr. Wade, you are a man of the world. You can’t wonder at my having such an idea.”
“Not in the least,” assented Roger.
“At the same time I do not blame you for being angry.”
Roger smiled. “But, my dear sir, I was not angry. I didn’t in the least care what you thought. Even if you had succeeded in your vicious little scheme for robbing me of my competence, I still couldn’t have been angry. It is so easy for a man to make a generous living if he happens not to have burdened himself with expensive tastes.”
“That matter of the railway bonds—it will be adjusted at once, Mr. Wade. I was sorry the exigencies of a large operation forced me to—to——”
In his indignation Roger forgot the resolutions Peter had soothed and softened him into making. With his curtest accent he said: “What you did was contemptible enough. Why make it worse by lying?”
Richmond sprang to his feet. Roger rose toweringly, in his face a plain hope that his guest was about to depart. Richmond sat down again. “You have me at your mercy,” cried he with a ludicrous mingling of attempt at politeness and frantic rage.