“Anything doing, captain?” he asked casually, and with the happy unconcern of a gentleman the stress of whose condition was relieved by a temperament that rendered even failure endurable.
“No,” said Stephen; he was slightly embarrassed, he recalled the trifling sum he had taken in exchange for the fiction of good-will. Glancing furtively at his questioner, he was impressed by the fact that Mr. Carrington was looking the reverse of prosperous, his coat was shiny and the seams showed white in spite of the liberal inking he had given them with the last ink in the office ink-well.
“I didn't know but you might have hit on something. You got out easy, yet not so easy as I did; I was kicked out. Couldn't pay my rent. But I figure I'm saving ten a month; that's better than nothing.” Carrington said with a cheerful twinkle.
“Yes,” agreed Stephen, “that's better than nothing.”
“It only shows up on paper though,” said Carrington. “Now if I could live on paper—”
“Some of my friends are urging me to go into politics,” said Stephen. “They want me to run for county clerk.”
Carrington nodded; he had heard this it seemed.
“If I secure the nomination, I am certain of election. And I may be able to throw something in your way—I should like to,” said Stephen.
“Why?” asked Carrington.
“Well, our first transaction couldn't have been very satisfactory to you.”