"To do him credit--and it makes me hopeful for him--Farrell has a
certain instinct of self-preservation. Let us never forget that
he is a widower. Amid these Amazons he had fenced a bachelor
table. I walked up to it straight and said, with a glance
around, 'Farrell, you're lonely.'
"He passed a hand over his forehead and murmured, 'Oh, for God's
sake--don't drive me like this! . . .'
"'Nonsense,' said I. 'Forget it, man. Look around you and say
if there's one of these spinsters you'd rather have for
companion. Don't raise your voice. You started in admirable
key. . . . Let's keep to it and understand one another.
I'm dining with you. If you like, we'll toss up later for who
pays: but I'm dining with you. I promise not to hurt you
to-night, if that helps conviviality.'
"'It does,' said he in a queer way. 'Let's talk.'
"'Well then,' said I confidentially. 'You're a solid man.
You've made your way in the world, and I suppose the sort of
success you've won implies some grit.
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