Armstrong accepted the slip of paper mechanically; a real moisture came into his eyes, and he held it back at arm’s length.
“Darley, confound you,” he protested, “I can’t accept that. I simply can’t!”
“Can’t—why? It’s good. Try it anywhere down town.”
“You know I don’t mean that; but—”
“Yes—” The big fingers were twitching ominously.
“But after—what’s past—”
“Wouldn’t you make me a loan if positions were reversed?” shortly.
“Yes, certainly; but—”
“Forget it, then.” Roberts turned back to his desk abruptly. “Pardon me if I go on working. I’ve simply got to clear this desk before I go.” He waited in silence until the other man started to leave; just as Armstrong reached the door he wheeled about.
“You’ll be with me at eleven-fifty sure, won’t you?” he asked directly. 282