"There you are mistaken. You are my friend. And friends are not so plentiful that one can contemplate the disappearance of even one of them with equanimity."
"That may be true. But mercifully, the dead are soon forgotten. You will soon get used to my absence."
"I sincerely hope the occasion will not arise," Muller said, speaking slowly and gravely. "Indeed, as I said before, I should regard your failure as a calamity. Still, there is no getting over the fact that what you regarded as impossible less than six months ago has come very definitely within the realm of possibility."
"Yes," Rufus said, with some hesitation. "I am bound to admit that the chance of failure seems less remote than it did."
"I am sorry to have to discuss this matter with you again," Muller went on, after a pause. "I can assure you it is almost as painful to me as it must be to you. Still business is business, and I have to think of my own position. If I were a rich man, I would not mention the matter—upon my soul, I wouldn't."
"I thought you had no soul," Rufus said, with a pathetic smile.
"Oh, don't joke over mere figures of speech," Muller said, staring into the fire. "I tell you I feel terribly upset."
"But my cause is not lost yet," Rufus said with forced cheerfulness.
"No, it may not be. But, on the other hand, it may be. If your competitor has gone so far, he may during the next week or month go all the rest of the distance."
"I must take my chance of that."