“I understood.”
“I wrote you two or three letters, but I tore them up. I wanted to sever my connection with the firm. I wanted to save you the pain of thinking about me any longer. I knew I hadn’t any right here, that I haven’t had any right here for a long while—two or three years, that I had been taking my share of fees I had never earned, and that it was only through your friendship for me that I’ve been encouraged to stay as long as this. I wanted to save you the pain of talking to me again——”
“I’ve never denied you my friendship, Phil. I don’t deny it now. I only thought that you might have——”
Gallatin turned swiftly and raised his hand.
“Don’t, Mr. Kenyon! For God’s sake, don’t reproach me,” he said ardently. “Reproaches won’t help me—only wound. They’ve already been ringing in my ears for days—since the last time——” he paused.
“Never mind.”
Gallatin strode the length of the room, struggling for the control of his voice, and when he came back it was to stand facing the senior partner quite composed.
“There isn’t a man in the world who would do as much for one who merited so little. I’m not going over that. Words can’t mean much from me to you; but what I would like you to know is that I don’t want to go out of the firm, and that, if you’ll bear with me, I want another chance to prove myself. I’ve never promised anything. You’ve never asked me to. Thank God, that much of my self-respect at least is saved out of the ruins. I want to give my word now——”
“Don’t do that,” said Kenyon hurriedly. “It isn’t necessary.”