Max laughed in an embarrassed fashion.
"Millionaires is got their troubles too, Abe," he said. "Even when they ain't millionaires."
"I should have your trouble!" Abe commented.
"I got enough, Abe, believe me," Max rejoined. "Everything I got to look after myself. My credit man leaves me next week; and I got other worries besides that one, too."
"Sure, I know," Abe said as they started for the smoker of the six-ten; "and the biggest one you got only yourself to blame for it."
"What d'ye mean, Abe?" Max asked.
"I mean this, Max," Abe declared. "I am knowing you now since twenty years already, and if I am butting in you could know it ain't because I am fresh, y'understand, but because I got your interests at heart. That boy of yours goes too far, Max."
Max drew a cigar from his waistcoat pocket and carefully bit off the end. "How so?" he inquired.
"Well, in a whole lot of ways, Max," Abe continued, after they were seated; "and mind you, I know it ain't none of my business, Max, but when I see that boy come into Hammersmith's to-day and eat for five dollars a lunch, with a bottle of tchampanyer wine yet, Max, I couldn't help myself. I got to say something."
Max scowled and spat out the end of his cigar.