"I am sorry, Cal," said Keith sadly.
Bennett rose, bowed stiffly, and turned to the door. But suddenly he whirled back, his face alight with feeling.
"Oh, see heah, Milt, be sensible!" he cried. "I know just how yo're feelin' now. Yo're sore, and I don't blame you. You put ap a hard fight, and though you got licked, I don't mind tellin' you that the whole bar appreciates yo're brilliant work. You must remember you had to play a lone hand against pretty big men—the biggest we've got! We all appreciate the odds. Cora has lots of friends. You'll never convict him, Milt; but go in again for another trial, if it will do yo're feelin's any good, with our best wishes. Only don't let gettin' licked make you so sore! Don't go buttin' yo're haid at yo're friends! Be a spo't!"
A half hour ago this appeal might have gained a response if not a practical effect, but the spiritual transformation in Keith was complete.
"I'm sorry," he replied simply, "but I must go ahead in my own way."
Calhoun Bennett's face lost its glow, and his tall figure stiffened.
"I must wa'n you not to bring my name into this," said he. "I do not intend to have my reputation sacrificed to yo' strait-laced Yankee conscience. If my name is ever mentioned, I shall hold you responsible, personally responsible. You understand, suh?"
He stood stiff and straight, staring at Keith. Keith did not stir.
After a moment Calhoun Bennett went out.
XLV
After this interview Keith experienced a marked and formal coldness from nearly all of his old associates, Those with whom he came into direct personal contact showed him scrupulous politeness, but confined their conversation to the briefest necessary words, and quit him as soon as possible. He found himself very much alone, for at this period he had lost the confidence of one faction and had not yet gained that of the other.