“They surely will be, man. They will, if you really want them to be.”
“What do you mean? By going to work again?”
“Or some other way.”
“Well, I don’t know any other way of making a living, boy. Either work or steal; either be wealthy or beg alms. I’ve lost the habit of working; I haven’t the nerve to rob. I’m not rich; so I’ll have to go out begging. Unless I enlist in the army one of these days.”
“All this chatter of yours,” replied Vidal, “is pure rot. Can anybody say that I work? No. That I rob or beg alms? Not that, either. That I’m rich? Hardly.... Yet you see, I get along.”
“You sure do. You must have some secret.”
“Maybe.”
“And might a fellow know what that secret is?”
“If you knew it, would you tell me?”
“Why, man ... you’ll see. If I had a secret and you wanted to rob it from me, to tell the truth I’d keep it to myself. But if you didn’t mean to steal it from me altogether, but simply to use it for your own livelihood and not prevent me from using it, too, then I’d certainly let you know what it was.”