Timothy Watson.”
Welsh looked at his friend with the respect that prosperity naturally excites. He smiled on him as an equal, and cried, heartily, “Congratulations again! When do you start?”
Twiddel fidgeted uncomfortably, “I—er—well, you see—ah—I haven’t quite made up my mind yet.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Hang it, Welsh—er—the fact is I don’t altogether like the job.”
Scruples of any kind always surprised Welsh.
“Can’t afford to leave the practice?” he asked with a laugh.
“That’s—ah—partly the reason,” replied Twiddel, uncomfortably.
“Rot, old man! There’s a girl in the case. Out with it!”
“No, it isn’t that. You see it’s the very devil of a responsibility.”