"Do you think so—honest?" Nat's eagerness to believe him was undisguised.
"I'm sure of it. The trouble is that people will say you've thrown her over—there isn't anyone in Radville who hasn't heard the news by this time; and that's going to make the girl feel pretty cheap. But only for a while: she'll get over it and solace herself with the next best thing.... And don't forget; you lose a fortune."
"No, I don't," Duncan disclaimed. "I never had it and now I don't want it."
"That's true enough," Kellogg admitted evenly. "And I hope you'll always feel that way about it; but, believe me, you'll find plenty of money a great help if you want to live a happy life."
"There are better things than money to make a man happy; I'll pass up the money and try for the others."
"That's true, too; but when did you find it out?"
"Here—this last year.... You know I had everything my heart desired until the governor cashed in; and I used to think I was a pretty happy kid in those days. But now I've learned that you can beat that kind of happiness to death. Harry"—Duncan was growing almost sententious—"the real way to be happy is to work and have your work amount to something and—and to have someone who believes in you to work for."
"Is this a sermon, Nat?"
"Call it what you like: it goes, just the same. ... That's what I've found out this year."
Kellogg let his chair fall forward and rose, imprisoning Nat's shoulders with two heavy but kindly hands. "And you're right!" he cried heartily. "I'm glad you had the backbone to back out, Nat. It was a low-down trick and I'm ashamed of myself for proposing it. I did it, I presume, simply because I'm a schemer at heart, and I knew it would work. It did work, but it's worked a finer way than I dreamed of: it's made a man of you, Nat, and I'm mightly glad and proud of you!"