"Doesn't make me indispensable to the success of the business? Hardly, as yet. But for the very reason that I lack training, I've got to stay and get it."
"Take lessons in shopkeeping from Hugh Benson?"
"Exactly. And from Alf Carson. He's our manager."
"Don't know him. But from the way you allude to him I judge he has the details at his fingers-ends. That's all right. Leave—him—on—the—job."
"I will—and stay myself."
Richard's eyes were straight ahead, as the eyes of a man must be whose powerful car is running at high speed along a none too smoothly surfaced portion of state road. Therefore the glances of the two young men could not meet. But Lorimer's eyes could silently scan the well-cut profile presented to his view against the green of the fields beyond.
"Never observed," said he, with a peculiar inflection, "just how—rock-like—that chin of yours is, Rich. Reminds me of your grandfather's, for fair."
"Glad to hear it."
"You know," pursued Lorimer presently, "you gave me your promise, once, that you'd be with me on this cruise, whenever it came off. That's where the chin ought to come in. Man of your word, you know, and all that."
"I'm mighty sorry, my dear fellow. Let's not talk about it."