"You know Mr. Bivens—John C. Calhoun Bivens?"
"Yes," Stuart answered evenly, controlling himself with an effort.
"Well, he has taken our second floor, I had a long talk with him last week."
"Indeed!"
"But of course, goosie, it was business—all business. By the merest accident I learned that his big Trust, the American Chemical Company, needs another lawyer. They pay an enormous salary with all sorts of chances to get rich. They are making millions on millions. I told him that you were the very man for the place and that you were going to be the greatest lawyer in New York. Imagine my joy—when he not only agreed with me, but said he would double the salary if you would accept it. He thought you wouldn't, merely because you lived in the house of old Woodman with whom the Company may have a fight. I told him it was nonsense—that I knew you would accept. Of course, Jim, dear, I couldn't tell him why—I couldn't tell him what it meant to me, though I felt like screaming it in his face. You'll accept, of course?"
"Emphatically no!"
"You can't be so absurd!"
"Yes I can."
"Why?"
Stuart looked away in moody silence.