"Of course," he added, "his father was only too glad to pay his debts. But boys don't always see things in their true proportions. Neither do women."
Westguard, silent, scowling, pulled at his pipe for a while, then:
"Why should you play surgeon and nurse in such a loathsome hospital?"
"Somebody must. I seem better fitted to do it than the next man."
"Yes," said Westguard with a wry face, "I fancy somebody must do unpleasant things—even among the lepers of Molokai. But I'd prefer real lepers."
"The social sort are sometimes sicker," laughed Quarren.
"I don't agree with you.... By the way, it's all off between my aunt and me."
"I'm sorry, Karl——"
"I'm not! I don't want her money. She told me to go to the devil, and I said something similar. Do you know what she wants me to do?" he added angrily. "Give up writing, live on an allowance from her, and marry Chrysos Lacy! What do you think of that for a cold-blooded and impertinent proposition! We had a fearful family row," he continued with satisfaction—"my aunt bellowing so that her footmen actually fled, and I doing the cool and haughty, and letting her bellow her bally head off."
"You and she have exchanged civilities before," said Quarren, smiling.