“Well, why do you do it?”
“Does it matter?”
“I want to know certain.”
Christopher looked embarrassed. “Weren’t we kids together? Besides, it seems to me every chap ought to have a chance of working on the job he likes best. It’s only fair. It’s jolly rough on a fellow to have to do just what comes along whether he’s fit for it or not.”
“Seems to me,” said Sam meditatively, “a good many jobs would want doing if everyone did what they liked.”
“Oh, science would step in and equalise that,” returned Christopher, hastily quoting from some handbook and went on to further expound his creed.
Sam concluded he had been listening to spouters in 149 the Park, but he was sharp enough to recognise beneath the crude boyish creed the kindly generous nature that prompted it.
“So Cæsar says you’ve just to choose. We’ll see you through.”
“He must be jolly rich.”
“Well, that’s why he’s rich, isn’t it, to be able to do things.”