The older man shrugged his shoulders.

"Shake not your gory locks at me, avuncular. I wish it were the
primrose path. But that's all cut out. I have no time."

"Then what in-?"

"Overwork."

John Bellew laughed harshly and incredulously.

"Honest?"

Again came the laughter.

"Men are the products of their environment," Kit proclaimed,
pointing at the other's glass. "Your mirth is thin and bitter as
your drink."

"Overwork!" was the sneer. "You never earned a cent in your life."

"You bet I have--only I never got it. I'm earning five hundred a
week right now, and doing four men's work."

"Pictures that won't sell? Or--er--fancy work of some sort? Can
you swim?"

"I used to."

"Sit a horse?"