But you
taught me, anyhow, this much about friendship, that I couldn't bear
to go along with you without your knowing every atom of the truth.
That means, we're going to be clean cuts, when I've done. . . .
You'll loathe the tale. But, damn it, you shall respect me for this,
that I cut clean, for old sake's sake, and wiped up the account,
before we parted as strangers and I started life afresh."
"All this is pretty mysterious, Jack," said I. "You know that, for
all the hurt he'd done you, I shied out of helping your pursuit of
Farrell. . . . Tell me, what happened to Farrell? Went down in the
_Eurotas_, I guess, and so squared accounts. That's what you mean--
eh?--by your clean cut and starting life afresh? . . . If so, for
your sake I'm glad of it."
"He didn't go down in the _Eurotas_," Foe answered gravely: "As a
matter of fact I dragged him on board one of the boats with my own
hands."
"What?" said I. "Farrell another survivor?"
"Upon my word," he answered, lighting a cigarette, "I can't swear to
Farrell's being alive or dead. Probably he's dead; but anyway I've
no further use for him, and that's where the clean cut comes in.
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