“Sometimes He gives us more than we deserve,” said Farley, in a low voice.
“Well, if a man gets it in the neck, it’s something to be able to stand up against it. And no matter how much you’ve had to take, Farley, you can have the satisfaction of knowing what you are.”
“That’s a pretty poor satisfaction,” Farley replied, with a laugh.
“Perhaps you’ll care more about it when I tell you what it has done for me. There are two people who have completely changed my views of life lately. One is my wife. You are the other one.”
Farley looked up for the first time during the talk. “I?” he said, in surprise.
Briggs nodded. “Till I began to know you, I didn’t believe that there were men in the world like you. I had always acted from selfish motives and I supposed that everyone did.”
“Oh, no,” Farley protested.
Briggs lifted his hand. “Don’t contradict me. I know what I’m talking about. You think all those reform measures I worked so hard for last year—you think they were unselfish. Well, so they were, in one respect: I didn’t get any money out of them. But they were really selfish. I backed them—well, I suppose because I wanted to live up to the good opinion my wife had of me, and I wanted to justify myself for other things I had done.” Briggs rose from the chair and met Farley’s startled look. “Would you like to know why I say these things to you? It’s simply because I can’t stand playing a part any longer. I’m a blackguard, Farley. I’m as vile as any of those fellows in Washington you’ve been fighting against for years. All that woman said in her article is practically true.”
“What?” Farley exclaimed, incredulously.
“I was hand in glove with that fellow West till I discovered that he had been making love to Mrs. Briggs. If I hadn’t found him out, I shouldn’t have had the moral courage to throw him over. Go and tell that, if you like, to your friends at the Citizens’ Club.”