"You believe me now, Mr. Welkie?"
"I don't know's I doubted you, Mr. Necker. It caught me just a mite below the belt, and I had to spar for wind."
"But it wasn't I who hit you below the belt, remember. Neither did I want to destroy your illusions, but I did want to show you the facts—the truth, not the glittering romance, of life. Now they're offering you another job. Will you, or somebody else, get the credit for that? You? No, sir! You'll get neither money nor reputation out of it. With us you'd get both."
"Probably that's so." Welkie spoke slowly. "But people in general will credit me with loyalty at least."
"Will they? Even where they know of your work, will they? When a man turns down an offer like ours, people in general will give him credit for little besides simple innocence. I'm telling you they'll be more likely to think you are controlled by some queer primitive instinct which will not allow you to properly value things. I'll leave it to your friend. What do you say to that, Mr. Balfe?"
"I think you're a good deal right."
"There! Your own friend agrees with me!" exclaimed Necker.
"You don't think that, Andie?" Welkie, puzzled, stared at Balfe.
"What I mean, Greg, and what Mr. Necker very well understands me to mean, is that surely there are hordes of people who never will believe that any man did anything without a selfish motive."
"That don't seem right, Andie."