THE BIRTHPLACE
I deal; or rather it's by him I'm dealt with—was dealt with before. I stand or fall by him. But he has given me my head."
"Mayn't he then want you," Mrs. Hayes inquired, "just to show as flagrantly running away?"
"Of course—I see what you mean. I'm riding, blindly for a fall, and They're watching (to be tender of me!) for the smash that may come of itself. It's Machiavellic—but everything's possible. And what did you just now mean," Gedge asked—"especially if you've only heard of my prosperity—by your 'further lights'?"
His friends for an instant looked embarrassed, but Mr. Hayes came to the point. "We've heard of your prosperity, but we've also, remember, within a few minutes, heard you."
"I was determined you should," said Gedge. "I'm good then—but I overdo?" His strained grin was still sceptical.
Thus challenged, at any rate, his visitor pronounced. "Well, if you don't; if at the end of six months more it's clear that you haven't overdone; then, then———"
"Then what?"
"Then it's great."
"But it is great—greater than anything of the sort ever was. I overdo, thank goodness, yes; or I would if it were a thing you could."
"Oh, well, if there's proof that you can't———!" With which, and an expressive gesture, Mr. Hayes threw up his fears.
His wife, however, for a moment, seemed unable to let them go. "Don't They want then any truth?—none even for the mere look of it?"
"The look of it," said Morris Gedge, "is what I give!"
It made them, the others, exchange a look of their own. Then she smiled. "Oh, well, if they think so———!"
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