There was a silence.
"There's no use in going over all the arguments now, Bob—you know what the doctor said. Three months without a drop, and then he'd warrant you. Every day that goes by makes it harder for you. And here's your Uncle Owen promising that the first month you go without a spree he'll send you for a three months' cruise on the yacht with Stebbins—you know what a chance that is."
Bob looked fairly up for the first time.
"Stebbins! Would Stebbins go? I don't believe you!" he cried eagerly.
"He told me he would," said Dillon.
"Why on earth should he?"
"He's a friend of mine," the other answered simply.
Bob twisted his lips together a moment, while the muscles around his mouth worked. Suddenly he gave way and broke into sobbing speech.
"You're a good fellow, Dill—I'm not worth it—truly, I'm not! I've been a beast—and the college and all that—you all despise me—but so do I!"
He gripped the chair, turning his handsome, tear-stained face up to his friend's. How the straight, thin nose, the black-lashed blue eyes, the white forehead reflected Helena! Dillon could have kissed him for the likeness.