To the man whose ruling passion is his business it is natural to measure himself and his actions by the same yardstick which has yielded full return in his office; to him whose property stands simply as a counter and medium of exchange the measure of life is inevitably different. The good-natured chaffing at the Club was forgotten by Huntington before he stepped into his automobile, but it still remained in Cosden's mind. As the car rolled out of the Club grounds he turned to his companion.
"Monty," he said, "what is there so different about us that it attracts comment?"
"We should have found out if you hadn't snapped together like a steel trap. There was the chance of a lifetime to learn all about ourselves, and you shut them off by saying, 'If we're satisfied, whose concern is it, anyhow?'"
"Of course we are different," Cosden continued; "that's only natural. No two fellows are alike. I wonder if what you said about our being bachelors hasn't more truth than poetry in it.—Give me a light from your pipe."
"What is the connection?"
Cosden suddenly became absorbed and gave no sign that he heard the question. When he spoke his words seemed still more irrelevant.
"Monty," he said seriously, "I want you to take a little trip with me for perhaps two or three weeks, or longer. What do you say?"
Huntington showed no surprise. "It might possibly be arranged," he said.
Again Cosden relapsed into silence, puffing vigorously at his cigar as was his habit when excited. Huntington watched him curiously, wondering what lay behind.
"Did you ever try smoking a cigar with a vacuum cleaner?" he asked maliciously. "They say it draws beautifully, and consumes the cigar in one-tenth the time ordinarily required by a human being."