"That," said Mr. Burr with dignity, "is my private drawer—for private papers."
"Papers!" Mr. Burr's private papers were known to consist chiefly of a file of receipted bills and a larger file of unreceipted bills, both kept with his usual fastidious neatness. "What papers?"
"That's my business. I've got some rights here, if I am a figurehead. I've got some privileges."
"Sure. Don't you feel right to-day, Theodore?"
"That," said Mr. Burr, "is my business, too."
Neil stared at his friend. Mr. Burr was faultlessly groomed, as always, his tie was of the vivid and unique blue that he affected so often, and a very recent close shave had acted upon him as usual, giving him a pink and new-born appearance, but his eyes looked old and tired, as if he had not slept for weeks and had no immediate prospect of sleeping, and there were lines of strain about his weak mouth. He was not himself. Even a boy preoccupied with his own troubles could not ignore it.
"Don't you feel right?" Neil said. "Don't you want me to do something, Theodore?"
"Yes. Get out of here. Leave me alone," Mr. Burr snapped angrily.
"Sure," said Neil soothingly.
Suddenly Mr. Burr gripped Neil's reluctant, shy, boy's hand, kept it in his for a minute in silence, and then abruptly let it go, pushing Neil toward the door.