"Yes, I know," said Boots solemnly. A silence.
"H—have a pipe?" inquired Selwyn uneasily. He had nothing else to offer.
Boots leaned back in his stiff chair, crossed his legs, and filled a pipe. When he had lighted it he said:
"How are things, Phil?"
"All right. First rate, thank you."
Boots removed the pipe from his lips and swore at him; and Selwyn listened with head obstinately lowered and lean hands plucking at his frayed girdle. And when Boots had ended his observations with an emphatic question, Selwyn shook his head:
"No, Boots. You're very good to ask me to stop with you, but I can't. I'd be hampered; there are matters—affairs that concern me—that need instant attention at times—at certain times. I must be free to go, free to come. I couldn't be in your house. Don't ask me. But I'm—I thank you for offering—"
"Phil!"
"What?"
"Are you broke?"