I'm ashamed and sorry; but I can stay here and attend to things, of course--" "I don't want Neergard to see you," repeated Selwyn.
"W-why," stammered the boy, "do I look as rocky as that ?" "Yes.

See here, you are not afraid of me, are you ?" "No--" "You don't think I'm one of those long-faced, blue-nosed butters-in, do you?
You have confidence in me, haven't you?
You know I'm an average and normally sinful man who has made plenty of mistakes and who understands how others make them--you know that, don't you, old chap ?" "Y-es." "Then you _will_ listen, won't you, Gerald ?" The boy laid his arms on the desk and hid his face in them.

Then he nodded.
For ten minutes Selwyn talked to him with all the terse and colloquial confidence of a comradeship founded upon respect for mutual fallibility.
No instruction, no admonition, no blame, no reproach--only an affectionately logical review of matters as they stood--and as they threatened to stand.
The boy, fortunately, was still pliable and susceptible, still unalarmed and frank.

It seemed that he had lost money again--this time to Jack Ruthven; and Selwyn's teeth remained sternly interlocked as, bit by bit, the story came out.

But in the telling the boy was not quite as frank as he might have been; and Selwyn supposed he was able to stand his loss without seeking aid.
"Anyway," said Gerald in a muffled voice, "I've learned one lesson--that a business man can't acquire the habits and keep the infernal hours that suit people who can take all day to sleep it off." "Right," said Selwyn.
"Besides, my income can't stand it," added Gerald naively.
"Neither could mine, old fellow.