For the first time the
depth of his feeling broke through into his voice: "Say, if you like
that I am unreasonable, ignorant, unfair. Put it all down to besotted
prejudice.... Can't you restore this money because I ask it? Won't you
do it as a favor to me?"
Surface's face became agitated. "I believe there is nothing else in the
world--that I wouldn't do for you--a thousand times over--but--"
Then Queed threw the last thing that he had to offer into the scales,
namely himself. He leaned over the table and fixed the old man with
imploring eyes.
"I'd do my best to make it up to you. I'll--I'll live with you till one
or the other of us dies. You'll have somebody to take care of you when
you are old, and there will never be any talk of the poorhouse between
you and me. It can all be arranged quietly through a lawyer,
Professor--and nobody will guess your secret. You and I will find quiet
lodgings somewhere, and live together--as friends--live cleanly,
honorably, honestly--"
"For God's sake, stop!" said Surface, in a broken-voice. "This is more
than I can bear."
So Queed knew that it was hopeless, and that the old man meant to cling
to his dishonored money, and let his friend go.
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