brother. And I know he felt that way. Yes, and WANTED to feel so--I know
that."

"I wouldn't say that, if I were you," observed the lawyer, gently. "I
think you're mistaken there."

"I ain't mistaken. Why, look here, Mr. Graves! There was a time when
I'd have got down on my knees and crawled from here to New York to help
'Bije Warren. I lent him money to start in business. Later on him and I
went into partnership together on a--a fool South American speculation
that didn't pan out for nothin'. I didn't care for that. I took my
chance same as he did, we formed a stock company all amongst ourselves,
and I've got my share of the stock somewhere yet. It may come in handy
if I ever want to paper the barn. But 'twa'n't business deals of that
kind that parted us, 'twas another matter. Somethin' that he did to
other folks who'd trusted us and... Humph! this don't interest you, of
course... Well, 'Bije was well off, I know. His wife died way back
in the nineties. She was one of them fashionable women, and a hayseed
salt-herrin' of a bachelor brother-in-law stuck down here in the
sandheaps didn't interest her much--except as somethin' to forget, I
s'pose. I used to see her name in the Boston papers occasionally, givin'
parties at Newport and one thing a'nother. I never envied 'em that kind
of life. I'm as well fixed as I want to be. Got some money put by for
a rainy spell, comf'table house and land, best town on earth to live in
and work for; I'm satisfied and always have been. I wouldn't change for
nothin'. But I'm nine year older than 'Bije was--and yet I'm left alive.
Hum!"

"Your brother had two children by his marriage," said Graves, after a
moment of silence.