"Ah—a little"—with a smile.
"Will you take what you require from me?"
"No."
"Oh—very well. I was horribly afraid you would."
Selwyn laughed and leaned back, indenting his meagre pillow.
"Come, Boots," he said, "you and I have often had worse quarters than this. To tell you the truth I rather like it than otherwise."
"Oh, damn!" said Boots, disgusted; "the same old conscience in the same old mule! Who likes squalidity? I don't. You don't! What if Fate has hit you a nasty swipe! Suppose Fortune has landed you a few in the slats! It's only temporary and you know it. All business in the world is conducted on borrowed capital. It's your business to live in decent quarters, and I'm here to lend you the means of conducting that business. Oh, come on, Phil, for Heaven's sake! If there were really any reason—any logical reason for this genius-in-the-garret business, I'd not say a word. But there isn't; you're going to make money—"
"Oh, yes, I've got to," said Selwyn simply.
"Well, then! In the meanwhile—"
"No. Listen, Boots; I couldn't be free in your house. I—they—there are telegrams—unexpected ones—at all hours."