Father Benicio sat reflecting on this to such an extent that Strawbridge thought he had convinced him, by mere power of argument; however, at last the priest began again:
"But, Señor Strawbridge, there are some duties which you will always perform at great inconvenience and even pain to yourself. These duties are not what you could call dividend-bearing duties. They will never pay you anything; they will always bring loss and pain and yet ... you do them."
"What sort of duties are you talking about?" asked the drummer, suspiciously.
"Well, ... your business obligations to your house."
"But I tell you that isn't in this. The order's gone—"
"But if it were, and in the midst of your enterprise you were moved to desert your firm by some sharp and sudden passion, which, if you resisted, would cause you pain as long as your memory held its seat, still ... would you not stand by your obligations? My son, when I look at you, I believe you would."
Strawbridge started to speak, then paused to clear his throat.
"Look here, Father, that's different. When it comes to business—"
"But business is only a duty, an obligation among other obligations."
"Yes, I know; but you see, business depends on team-work. A hundred, a thousand, a million other men are in the game with you. You can't lay down on your own crowd. Why—good Lord!—if we all got to laying down when we liked, the whole commerce of America would go bluey!"