"Why not?"
"I could not go back to New York. I have no money to go with, even if I
could find a place for myself again."
"Your place is open to you."
Herold stared at him.
Marche repeated the assertion profanely. "Damnation," he said, "if you'd
talked this way to me five years ago, I'd never have stood in your way.
All I heard of the matter was what Vyse told me. I'm not associated with
him any more; I'll stand for his minding his own affairs. The thing for
you to do, Courtney, is to get into the game again and clean up what you
owe Vyse. Here's seven thousand; you can borrow the rest from me. And
then we'll go into things again and hustle. It was a good combination,
Courtney--we'd have been rich men--except for the slip you made. Come on
in with me again. Or would you rather continue to inhabit your own
private hell?"
"Do you know what you are saying, Marche?" said the other hoarsely.
"Sure, I do. I guess you've done full time for a first offense. Clean
off the slate, Courtney. You and Vyse and I know it--nobody
else--Gilkins is dead. Come on, man! That boy of yours is a corker! I
love him--that little brother, Jim, of mine; and as for--Molly----" His
voice broke and he turned sharply aside, saying: "It's certainly
blue-bird weather, Courtney, and we all might as well go North. Come out
under the stars, and we'll talk it over."
* * * * *
It was almost dawn when they returned. Marche's hand lay lightly on
Courtney's shoulder for a moment, as they parted.
Above, as Courtney stood feeling blindly for his door, Molly's door
swung softly ajar, and the girl came out in her night-dress.
"Father," she whispered, "is it all right?"
"All right, thank God, little daughter."
"And--I may care for him?"
"Surely--surely, darling, because he is the finest specimen of manhood
that walks this merciless earth."
"I knew it," she whispered gaily. "If you'll lend me your wrapper a
moment, I'll go to his door and say good-night to him again."
Her father looked at her, picked up his tattered dressing-gown from his
bed, and wrapped her in it to the chin, then kissed her forehead.
So she trotted away to Marche's door and tapped softly; and when he
came and opened the door, she put her arms around his neck and kissed
him.
"Good night," she whispered. "I do love you, and I shall pray all night
that I may be everything that you would wish to have me. Good night,
once more--dearest of men--good night."