Trist laughed, and returned the gaze of a pair of remarkably bright eyes without hesitation.
'No,' he answered. 'I am content with the mark I have made, but there is not sufficient money to be gained at it, considering how much it takes out of a man. I am as strong as a horse yet, but I have noticed that there are some of us who, considering their years, are not the men they should be. It is a desperately hard life, and we are constantly required. If I live ten years longer, I shall be laid on the shelf, as far as active service goes.'
The editor looked much relieved, and, moreover, made no pretence of concealing his feelings.
'I have thought of that,' he said. 'Of course, we will take you on the editorial staff.'
'Now...?'
The elder man raised his head, and the kindly gray eyes searched his companion's face.
'Ah!' he said slowly. 'That is your game. Have you lost your nerve?'
'No.'
'Then you contemplate some great change in your plan of life.'
'Hardly,' returned Trist, with some deliberation; 'but I want to be prepared for such an emergency.'