By your own account you're not getting on: the longer you stay, it'll only be the more out of the pocket of the dear old lady at your lodgings.

Now, I'll tell you what I'll do: if you consent to go, I'll pay your passage to New York, and your railway fare and expenses to Muskegon (if I have the name right) where your father lived, where he must have left friends, and where, no doubt, you'll find an opening.

I don't seek any gratitude, for of course you'll think me a beast; but I do ask you to pay it back when you are able.

At any rate, that's all I can do.

It might be different if I thought you a genius, Dodd; but I don't, and I advise you not to." "I think that was uncalled for, at least," said I.
"I daresay it was," he returned, with the same steadiness.