He would rather not have met the man at all; but, since they had met, there seemed to be only one thing to be done.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to take Benson with us," he said to Harding.
The American looked doubtful.
"We could do with another white man; but I guess your friend isn't the kind we want.

He may give us trouble; and you can't count on much help from a whisky-tank.

However, if you wish it, you can bring him." Soon afterward Benson came out from the dining-room.

He was two or three years younger than Blake and had a muscular figure, but he looked shaky and his face was weak and marked by dissipation.

Smiling in a deprecatory way, he lighted a cigar.
"I'm afraid I made a fool of myself last night," he said.