ing-gown,
stood looking at him and plucking nervously at the frayed and tasselled
cord around his waist.

"I don't know how you came to stumble in here," he said at length, "but
I'm glad to see you."

"Thanks," replied Boots, gazing shamelessly and inquisitively about.
There was nothing to see except a few books, a pipe or two, toilet
articles, and a shaky gas-jet. The flat military trunk was under the
iron bed.

"I--it's not much of a place," observed Selwyn, forcing a smile.
"However, you see I'm so seldom in town; I'm busy at the Hook, you know.
So I don't require anything elaborate."

"Yes, I know," said Boots solemnly. A silence.

"H--have a pipe?" inquired Selwyn uneasily. He had nothing else to
offer.

Boots leaned back in his stiff chair, crossed his legs, and filled a
pipe. When he had lighted it he said:

"How are things, Phil?"

"All right. First rate, thank you."

Boots removed the pipe from his lips and swore at him; and Selwyn
listened with head obstinately lowered and lean hands plucking at his
frayed girdle. And when Boots had ended his observations with an
emphatic question, Selwyn shook his head:

"No, Boots. You're very good to ask me to stop with you, but I can't.
I'd be hampered; there are matters--affairs that concern me--that need
instant attention at times--at certain times. I must be free to go, free
to come. I couldn't be in your house. Don't ask me. But I'm--I thank you
for offering--"

"Phil!"

"What?"

"Are you broke?"

"Ah--a little"--with a smile.

"Will you take what you require from me?"

"No."

"Oh--very well. I was horribly afraid you would."

Selwyn laughed and leaned back, indenting his meagre pillow.

"Come, Boots," he said, "you and I have often had worse quarters than
this. To tell you the truth I rather like it than otherwise."

"Oh, damn!" said Boots, disgusted; "the same old conscience in the same
old mule! Who likes squalidity? I don't. You don't! What if Fate has hit
you a nasty swipe! Suppose Fortune has landed you a few in the slats!
It's only temporary and you know it. All business in the world is
conducted on borrowed capital. It's your business to live in decent
quarters, and I'm here to lend you the means of conducting that
business. Oh, come on, Phil, for Heaven's sake! If there were really any
reason--any logical reason for this genius-in-the-garret business, I'd
not say a word. But there isn't; you're going to make money--"

"Oh, yes, I