“I’m getting used to it after twelve years,” said 98 Aymer, with shut teeth; “the objection to your scheme is that I do not happen to want money.”
“Power, power, man,” cried the other impatiently. “Money is just metal, its value lies in the grip it gives you over other men, and if you don’t even care for that, there’s the joy of chancing it. And you were a born gambler, Aymer, you can’t deny that,” he laughed heartily, but also again came the quick sidelong glint of his eyes. “Think of it, old fellow,” he said carelessly, dropping his enthusiastic tone, “it would be a good deal better for you than doing nothing. It’s such wicked waste.”
For the first time Aymer winced.
“I’ll think of it, and let you know if it’s likely to be entertained. I have the boy, you know; that gives me something to do.”
“Poof! Let him bring himself up if you want to make a successful man of him. The more he educates himself, the better he’ll get on. If you do it, you’ll make him soft. I know! Public School: University: Examinations, and £200 a year if he’s lucky. That’s your education! All very well if you are born with a golden spoon in your mouth and can afford to be a fool. If you can’t, better learn to rough-and-tumble it in the world. Education doesn’t make successful men.”
“You were not exactly uneducated, Peter,” said Aymer drily.
Peter grinned.
“Ah, but I was a genius. I couldn’t help it. It would have been the same had I been born in the gutter. No, I believe in the rough-and-tumble school to make hard-headed men.”
“Well, for all you know, Christopher may be a genius, or be born with a golden spoon in his mouth.”
The other looked up sharply.