"What do I want of 'good'-- what should I do with 'good'?
I want what she gives me, call it by what name you will.
I want to ask no questions, but to take what comes and let it fill the impossible hours! But I did n't come to discuss the matter." "I have not the least desire to discuss it," said Rowland.

"I simply protest." Roderick meditated a moment.

"I have never yet thought twice of accepting a favor of you," he said at last; "but this one sticks in my throat." "It is not a favor; I lend you the money only under compulsion." "Well, then, I will take it only under compulsion!" Roderick exclaimed.
And he sprang up abruptly and marched away.
His words were ambiguous; Rowland lay on the grass, wondering what they meant.

Half an hour had not elapsed before Roderick reappeared, heated with rapid walking, and wiping his forehead.

He flung himself down and looked at his friend with an eye which expressed something purer than bravado and yet baser than conviction.
"I have done my best!" he said.