protecting you against yourself."

"But you have money--you have private means."

"None to speculate with as you wish me to--on account of my position;
none to give away foolishly as you expect me to--on account of precedent
and example. I am a soulless machine taking care of capital intrusted to
me and my brains, but decidedly NOT to my heart nor my sentiment. So my
answer is, not a cent!"

Barker's face had changed; his color had come back, but with an older
expression. Presently, however, his beaming smile returned, with the
additional suggestion of an affectionate toleration which puzzled Stacy.

"I believe you're right, old chap," he said, extending his hand to the
banker, "and I wish I had talked to you before. But it's too late now,
and I've given my word."

"Your WORD!" said Stacy. "Have you no written agreement?"

"No. My word was accepted." He blushed slightly as if conscious of a
great weakness.

"But that isn't legal nor business. And you couldn't even hold the Ditch
Company to it if THEY chose to back out."

"But I don't think they will," said Barker simply. "And you see my word
wasn't given entirely to THEM. I bought the thing through my wife's
cousin, Henry Spring, a broker, and he makes something by it, from the
company, on commission. And I can't go back on HIM. What did you say?"