If he really cared to advance me, why not have made me a lawyer and breed me up to share his secrets ?" There came no answer to his troubled mind as he sat there, alone, despising Ferris and doubting even Worthington's candor.
He had revolved several future plans of action in his mind before reaching the vitreous substratum of the generous high-ball.

His first indignant impulse was to give up the joint apartment in a fortnight.
May the first was rapidly coming on by Nature's calendar of leaf and bird, of deepening green in the park and light-hearted woman's smartening attire.
"No," he resentfully cried, as he threw his cigar away and paid his bill, "that would only show them my hand.

I'll make no open enemy of Ferris." "But I will dodge Worthington's spies and then lock up my heart.
I will keep on good terms with Worthington's lickspittle and try and later reach the secret of all this strange behavior.

The old man seems unwilling to let me go out of his control, and yet he has tied me down to this ironclad money mill--as a slave rubbing the lamp for him." It opened a gloomy future to him, this dreary hour of introspection.
Randall Clayton had not lost all the opportunities of his New York life for a peep behind the metropolitan scenes.

He knew that there was an inside view to be had of the clubs, the great hotels, the show life of the smart set, the pretentious apartment houses, the banks and theaters, the ambitious schemes of business and professional men.
One by one the shams had yielded to his prying gaze, and, but too well, he knew the truth of Tom Moore's trite remark, "False the light on glory's plume!" But, straightforward and sincere, he had never watched his own environment.