“No, not to-night,” said Max quietly, taking a little silver key from off his watch-chain, and opening the folio, which was made with a couple of very large pockets. “Do you take any interest in old writings?”
“Not a bit, my boy. I’ve had enough to do to study up and pass my exams. But what have you got there?”
“The old mortgage and the title-deeds of Dunroe,” said Max quietly.
“But—I say, old fellow, don’t do that. I’m pretty hard, but the name of Dunroe always gives me a choky feeling in the throat.”
“So it does me, Ken, old fellow!” cried Max, with his voice trembling.
“Then why—?”
“Wait a moment. Do you remember how we two were gradually drawn together up there in the north?”
“Yes, of course,” said Kenneth huskily.
“I never had a brother, Ken, and I used to feel at last that I had found one in you.”
“And I used to think something of the kind, but—”