Gilbert was on the point of asking if liquor had not had as much to do with it as the climate, but wisely refrained. “You want to take care of yourself in the future,” he remarked. “Be very careful of what you eat and drink.”
“I shall be careful. I’m not going to drink any more,—at least, not as I’ve been in the habit of drinking. But, Pennington, I want to talk to you. As I said before, I can’t understand why you risked your life for mine.”
“Then don’t try to understand it. It is past now.”
“You are a better fellow than I am,—a good deal better,” persisted Nuggy. “I don’t believe I would have tried to save you under the same circumstances.”
“Then it is a good thing that I am myself and you are yourself,” said Gilbert, not knowing how else to reply.
“You are a true Christian, Pennington,—a real, practical Christian.”
“Thank you. I have tried to be so—even though I am a soldier.”
“Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let me burn up,” continued Nuggy, with a deep shudder. “I know just how tight I was at that window. I couldn’t budge, and I was suffering the tortures of the infernal region. I was sure my end had come, when you released me.”
“There was certainly no time to spare.”
“Pennington, after this I am going to be a different man—I swear it. This thing has opened my eyes. It doesn’t pay to—to—well, to cheat others, as I’ve been trying to do. I was going to try to get the best of you and the Bartletts, but I shan’t try any more. It’s a bad business.”