To myself I says there is still another reason. I knows how much it would hurt Mr. Dallas' pride to have all the folks down home finding out that he's made another disasterful move in business. By roundabout ways it has come to my ears that he's been writing letters back telling about how well he's doing up here in New York and now, if it should come out in the papers that he's made one more bad bustup on top of all them finance mistakes he committed before he come North, and he should have to go South again, broke and shamed at being broke, I reckons it would just about kill him. Besides which I knows full well from hearing Judge Priest talking in the past, that even in medium-sized towns lawyers is plenty costive persons to hire for an important lawsuit, and in the biggest town of all, where the lawyers naturally run bigger, they'd cost a mighty heap more.
When he gets through specifying the situation I gets another notion:
"I wonder," I says, sort of casual-like, "I wonder, Mr. Dallas, w'y it wuz 'at Mr. H. C. Raynor should a-picked this pertic'lar moment fur callin' on you fur a big bunch of cash, 'specially w'en ef he'd a-kept silence you'd a-prob'ly gone on wid him, never 'spicionin' anything wuz wrong?"
"Oh, I'm not so stupid but what I can figure that out," he says. "He's afraid so much of my money will be spent soon in another direction that he'll be deprived of the lion's share of what is left. He wants to strip me down close while the stripping is good."
"In 'nother direction?" I says, kind of musing. "I wonder whut 'at other direction kin be?"
"Can't you guess?" he says.
"Yas suh," I says, "I kin; but I didn' think 'twould be seemly fur me to start guessin' along 'at line widout you opened up the way fust."
"Jeff," he says, "I feel like a low-down dog to be dragging in a woman's name, even indirectly; and so I guess the best thing I can do in that direction is to keep my mouth shut and take my medicine. It appears that here lately I've acquired the habit of committing myself to serious obligations at times when I'm not exactly aware of what I'm doing. At the moment, I don't seem to remember how it all comes about; then I wake up and I find I'm signed, sealed and delivered. I may be the damndest fool alive, but at least I'm an honorable fool. I was raised that way. Where my sense of personal honor is concerned I'm going to stick, no matter what the costs may be. I've been fed fat on flattery; now it's time for me to sup on sorrow awhile. Do you get my drift?"
"Yas suh, I think I does," I says. "Mr. Dallas," I says, "'scuse me fur persumin' to keep on 'long 'is yere track, but is you right downright shore 'at you solemnly engaged yo'se'f in the holy bonds of wedlock to the lady in question?"
"I suppose I did," he says. "I must have. She assumes to think so—everybody else assumes to think so. And yet, as Heaven is my judge, I never intended to lead anybody to believe that I wanted to make a marriage up here. It—it just happened, Jeff—that's all. I can see now how a lot of things have been happening and why. But what can I do to clear myself from either one of these two tangles? I've asked myself the question a hundred times since noon today and there's no answer. I can't lick Raynor at his own game; he's too wise; he's covered his prints too well. When I hinted at a lawsuit this afternoon he laughed in my face and told me to go ahead and sue. And, as for the other thing—well, unless I go through with it, against my will and my better judgment, it means a breach of promise suit, or I miss my guess. Besides, I still have some shreds of self-respect left. I can't deliberately try to break an engagement which, I suppose, I must have made in good faith."