"You're a good man, Dick. Dissipation is sometimes a crucible that separates the gold from the baser metals. It has done that to you. You are a good man, an honorable man. In coming to me like this you have shown yourself to be courageous as well. There was a moment when the sight of you filled my heart with murder. It was the night after I received that letter. I've been watching you, watching, watching. Well, I would stake my chance of eternity on your honesty. I take your word; I should have taken it, had you nothing to prove your case. That night I ran into Bolles. ... Well, he uttered a vile insult, and I all but throttled him. Here's my hand, Dick."
The hand-grip that followed drew a gasp from Warrington.
"Not every man would be so good about it, John. What shall we do about McQuade?"
"I was about to say that I shall see McQuade within an hour," in a tone that did not promise well for McQuade.
"Wait a day or two, John. If you meet him now, I believe you will do him bodily harm, and he has caused enough trouble, God knows."
"But not to meet him! Not to cram this paper down his vile throat! I had not considered that sacrifice. And I can not touch him by law, either."
"But you can silence him effectually. This business will end right here."
"You are right," said John with reluctance. "If I met him in this rage. I should probably kill him."
"Let us go and pay him a visit together, John," Warrington suggested. "I can manage to keep in between you."
"That's better. We'll go together." And John went for his hat. Then he ran up stairs quickly. There was a loving heart up there that ached, and he alone could soothe it.