"Do you like it?" he asked, hopefully.
"I am most horribly proud of it," said I, honestly.
"Sure, parson? Hand on your heart?"
"Sure. Hand on my heart."
"All right, then," said he, sighing with relief.
"Here's your share of the loot," and he pushed a check across the table.
"But—" I hesitated, blinking, for it was a check of sorts.
"But nothing. Blow it in. Say, I'm curious. What are you going to do with yours?"
"What are you going to do with yours?" I asked in return.
He reddened, hesitated; then his head went up.