“It means reducing me to a mere cypher.”

“Such bargains are questions for experts, and should be left to experts.”

“If I were to leave them to experts like you I should be bankrupt in a fortnight.”

“I’m sorry, but you must choose between your methods and mine.  There’s ten minutes to do it in.”

“It won’t take ten minutes to see what will ruin me quickest.  As I told you before, I’m not going back on my bargain.”

“Nor I on mine.”

Isaac spent three minutes in reflection.  He reflected first, that Keith had been in the past “a young profligate”; secondly, that he was at the present moment in love; thirdly, that in the future he would infallibly be hungry.  He would think very differently when he had forgotten the lady; or if he didn’t think differently he would behave differently when his belly pinched him.  Isaac was a firm believer in the persuasive power of the primitive appetites.

“Only seven minutes,” murmured Keith.  “I’m sorry to hurry you, father, but I really must catch that train.”

“Wait—­steady.  Do you know wot you’re about?  You shan’t do anything rash for want of a clear understanding.  Mind—­as you stand there, you’re nothing but a paid shop-assistant; and if you leave the shop, you leave it without a penny to your name.”

“Quite so.  My name will hardly be any the worse for that.  You’re sure you’ve decided?  You—­really—­do not—­want—­to keep me?”

After all, did he want to keep him, to be unsettled in his conscience and ruined in his trade?  What, after all, had Keith brought into the business but three alien and terrible spirits, the spirit of superiority, the spirit of criticism, the spirit of tempestuous youth?  He would be glad to be rid of him, to be rid of those clear young eyes, of the whole brilliant and insurgent presence.  Not that he believed that it would really go.  He had a genial vision of the hour of Keith’s humiliation and return, a vivid image of Keith crawling back on that empty belly.

At that moment Keith smiled, a smile that had in it all the sweetness of his youth.  It softened his father’s mood, though it could not change it.

“I’m afraid I can’t afford to pay your price, my boy.”

He was the first to turn away.

And Keith understood too thoroughly to condemn.  That was it.  His father couldn’t pay his price.  The question was, could he afford to pay it himself?

As the great swinging doors closed behind him, he realized that whatever price he had paid for it, he had redeemed his soul.  And he had bought his liberty.

CHAPTER XXXV