"Well, Langdon, how are you?" his host asked, but there was no warmth
in his greeting.
"As well as a poor devil like me ever is," began Langdon obsequiously.
He sighed, looked about the comfortable room and finished with: "Lucky
dog."
Sanderson stood on no ceremony with his guest, who was a thoroughly
unscrupulous young man. Once or twice Langdon had helped Sanderson out
of scrapes that would have sent him home from college without his
degree, had they come to the ears of the faculty. In return for this
assistance, Sanderson had lent him large sums of money, which the owner
entertained no hopes of recovering. Sanderson tried to balance matters
by treating Langdon with scant ceremony when they were alone.
"Well, old man," began his host, "I do not flatter myself that I owe
this call to any personal charm. You dropped in to ease a little
financial embarrassment by the request of a loan--am I not right?"
"Right, as usual, Sandy, though I'd hardly call it a loan. You know I
was put to a devil of a lot of trouble about that Newton affair, and it
cost money to secure a shut mouth."
Sanderson frowned. "This is the fifth time I have had the pleasure of
settling for that Newton affair, Langdon. It seems to have become a
sort of continuous performance."
Langdon winced.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Langdon. You owe me two thousand now, not
counting that poker debt. We'll call it square if you'll attend to a
little matter for me and I'll give you an extra thou. to make it worth
your while."
"You know I am always delighted to help you, Sandy."
"When I make it worth your while."
"Put it that way if you wish."
"Do you think that for once in your life you could look less like the
devil than you are naturally, and act the role of parson?"
"I might if I associate with you long enough. Saintly company might
change my expression."
"You won't have time to try. You've got to have your clerical look in
good working order by Friday. Incidently you are to marry me to the
prettiest girl in Massachusetts and keep your mouth closed."
As if to end the discussion, Sanderson strode over to his desk and
wrote out a check for a thousand dollars. He came back, waving it in
the air to dry the ink.
"Perhaps you will condescend to explain," Langdon said, as he pocketed
the check.