“But I did; I went mad, and spent half the night in a gambling den.”
“You did? That is the worst thing I know about you thus far. It was unworthy of you.”
“Don’t I know it? Haven’t I been eating the bread of bitterness all day?”
“I suppose you have; but you will have to eat a good bit of it before you get through. You say you are willing to pay the price, but I have my doubts about that.”
Now Brant could be steel cold in the fiercest fray, but he was not beyond flinching under a friendly lash. Forsyth’s doubt whipped him out of his chair, and he made two or three quick turns up and down the narrow walkway behind the desk before the pot of passion boiled over.
“God in heaven, Forsyth, you don’t know what you are talking about!” he burst out. “I’d sell my soul and the reversion of it to win that girl’s love—and respect.”
“Exactly; but you are not required to sell it. You are expected to pay it out of debt.”
“I am willing to do that. But what can I do more than I have done?”
“A great deal, I should say. Let me use the knife a little, and then I’ll try to sew the wound up. You went your own way—which you admit was not the way of decency—till you got tired of it. Then you faced about and said to yourself that all these things should be as if they never had been. That was right and proper, but it was only the first step in a longish journey. Since that time you have taken several other steps, and now you have reached a point where society begins to concern itself, demanding from you a reasonable guarantee of good faith.”
“Hang society! I suppose that is what the mother meant when she said I hadn’t repented.”