"When are you going to touch the electric button that sets the thing
going?"
Paul, with his hands in his sagging pockets, began to pace the library
hearth-rug--I can see him now, setting his shabby red slippers between
its ramified cabbages.
"My dear fellow, there are one or two points to be considered
still--one or two new suggestions I picked up over there--"
I sat silent, and he paused before me, flushing to the roots of his
thin hair. "You think I've had time enough--that I ought to have put
the thing through before this? I suppose you're right; I can see that
even Ned Halidon thinks so; and he has always understood my
difficulties better than you have."
This insinuation exasperated me. "Ned would have put it through years
ago!" I broke out.
Paul pulled at his straggling moustache. "You mean he has more
executive capacity? More--no, it's not that; he's not afraid to spend
money, and I am!" he suddenly exclaimed.
He had never before alluded to this weakness to either of us, and I sat
abashed, suffering from his evident distress. But he remained planted
before me, his little legs wide apart, his eyes fixed on mine in an
agony of voluntary self-exposure.
"That's my trouble, and I know it. Big sums frighten me--I can't look
them in the face. By George, I wish Ned had the carrying out of this
scheme--I wish he could spend my money for me!" His face was lit by the
reflection of a passing thought. "Do you know, I shouldn't wonder if I
dropped out of the running before either of you chaps, and in case I do
I've half a mind to leave everything in trust to Halidon, and let him
put the job through for me."
"Much better have your own fun with it," I retorted; but he shook his
head, saying with a sigh as he turned away: "It's _not_ fun to
me--that's the worst of it."
Halidon, to whom I could not help repeating our talk, was amused and
touched by his friend's thought.
"Heaven knows what will become of the scheme, if Paul doesn't live to
carry it out. There are a lot of hungry Ambrose cousins who will make
one gulp of his money, and never give a dollar to the work. Jove, it
_would_ be a fine thing to have the carrying out of such a plan--but
he'll do it yet, you'll see he'll do it yet!" cried Ned, his old faith
in his friend flaming up again through the wet blanket of fact.