“There, you look it again. But it’s no good, Saul, my son. It was the old man’s wish, and that’s sacred to her, and, besides, she has taken to me wonderfully. I’m sorry for you, but it’s fate, my boy, fate.”
“Your fate?”
“Yes. But never mind, old boy. I’ll stand by you, and it’s something to make up for your disappointment.”
“Disappointment, man! What disappointment?”
“Yours,” said the other mockingly. “That settles it. You’re a clever fellow, Saul Harrington, but a wretched failure at hiding your feelings.”
“Or else you are a little too clever at divining,” retorted Saul.
“Perhaps so, old fellow. But never mind that. I’ve made up my mind about that investment.”
“And you decline.”
“No; I shall sell out or raise, or do something; and you may tell your friends to do what is necessary.”
“You mean it, George?”