CHAPTER XXVI
A FIGHT IN MILLIONS
Drake did not immediately proceed. Having impulsively expressed his intention to reveal his financial crisis, he hesitated as though regretting that impulse. He left the fireplace and went from door to door as though to assure himself against listeners, but aimlessly, rather from indecision than from any precaution. Returning, he flung away his cigar, though it was but half consumed, and took a fresh one, offering the box to Bojo without perceiving that he was in no need. So apparent was his disinclination, that Bojo felt impelled to say:
"Perhaps you would rather not tell me, sir!"
"I'd only be telling you what my enemies know," said Drake sharply, flinging himself down. "They know to a dollar what I've pledged and what I can draw on— Oh! trust them."
"Mr. Drake," said Bojo slowly, "I don't need to tell you, do I, that I would do anything in this world for Patsie, and that without knowing in the slightest what she feels toward me—believe me. I say this to you—because I want you to know that I've come only in the wildest hope that I might help in some way—some little way."
Drake shook his head.
"You can't, and yet—" He hesitated a last time and then said, in a dreamy, indecisive way, so foreign to his nature that it showed the extent of the mental struggle through which he had passed, "and yet there are some things I'd be glad to have you know—to remember, Tom, after it's all over, particularly if you come into the family. For I don't think you quite understand my ways of fighting. You took a rather harsh view of certain things from your standpoint— I admit you had some cause."
"I didn't judge you," said Bojo hastily, blushing with embarrassment. "I was only judging myself, my own responsibility."