“‘You bored in, that th’ opposed might beware of thee,’” I paraphrased.

He laughed.

“Yes, I bored in.  There was nothing else to do.  Flynn didn’t say much, but he was pleased as punch.  It took ten minutes to bring the fellow around.  I was bending over Sagorski, wetting his face, and as he looked up at me I told him I was awfully sorry.  What do you think he said?

“‘Aw, you go to hell!’ Impolite beggar, wasn’t he?”

“You have been at least catholic in the choice of companions,” I remarked, with a smile, recalling Flynn’s prediction about Jerry’s weight in wild cats.

“Oh, yes.  All sorts of people.  I think on the whole I understand the poorer classes best.  They do swear, I find, horribly at times, but they don’t intend harm by it.  I doubt if they really know what it means.  ‘Hell’ is merely an expletive like ‘Oh’ or ‘By Jove’ with us chaps.  Funny, isn’t it?”

“That truck-driver didn’t think so,” I said.

“That was my first week.  I know a lot more now.  I’ve felt sorry about him.”

“You needn’t,” I laughed.

And after a pause: 

“And down town, Jerry,” I inquired.  “How are things going there?”

His expression grew grave at once.

“Oh, I’ve been going to the office pretty regularly, but it’s slow work.  I don’t understand why, but I don’t seem to get on at all.”

“That’s too bad,” I said slowly.  “You must get on, old man.”

“Yes, I know, but it comes hard.  It seems that I’m frightfully rich.  In fact, nobody seems to know how rich I am.  I’ve got millions and millions, twenty—­thirty perhaps.  So much that it staggers me.  It’s like the idea of infinity or perpetuity.  I can’t grasp it at all.  It’s piling up in new investments, just piling up and nothing can stop it.”

“You don’t want to stop it, do you?”

“But if it was only doing some good—­When I see the misery all about—­”

“Wait a bit.  You’re putting the cart before the horse, my boy.  There’s no sin in being rich, in piling it up, as you say, if you’re not doing anybody any harm.  Have you ever thought of the thousands who work for you, of the lands, the railroads, the steamships, the mills, all carrying and producing—­producing, Jerry, helping people to live, to work?  Isn’t it something to have a share in building up your country?”

“But not the lion’s share.  It’s so impersonal, Roger.  My companies may be helping, but I’m not.  I want to help people myself.”

“That’s just what I’m getting at.  The more money you make, the more people you can help,” I laughed.  “It’s simplicity itself.”

“In theory, yes.  But I see where it’s leading me.  If I go on making money, where will I find the time to give it away?  It seems to be a passion with these men getting more—­always more.  I don’t want to get like Ballard or Stewardson.  And I won’t!"

He snapped his jaws together and strode with long steps the length of the room.