He took up a bronze
paper-weight and gazed at it with an intensity of self-absorption.
"I can't go," he said.
"Oh, but you have to," I exclaimed.
"Mr. Westoby," he resumed, "I was foolish enough to back a friend's
credit at a store here. He has skipped to Minnesota, and I am left with
three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents to pay. To take a
three days' holiday would be a serious matter to me at any time, but at
this moment it is impossible."
I gave him a good long look. He didn't strike me as a borrowing kind of
man. I should probably insult him by volunteering. Was there ever
anything so unfortunate?
"I can't go," he repeated with a little choke.
"You may never have another opportunity," I said. "Eleanor is doing a
thing I should never have expected from one of her proud and reserved
nature. The advances of such a woman--"
He interrupted me with a groan.
"If it wasn't for my mother I'd throw everything to the winds and fly to
her," he burst out. "But I have a mother--a sainted mother, Mr.
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