'I would rather live on my own money, since I have it.' Michael grasped his arm.

'Will nothing make you believe,' he cried, 'that I am trying to save you from Dartmoor ?' His earnestness staggered the old man.

'I must turn my attention to law,' he said; 'it will be a new field; for though, of course, I understand its general principles, I have never really applied my mind to the details, and this view of yours, for example, comes on me entirely by surprise.

But you may be right, and of course at my time of life--for I am no longer young--any really long term of imprisonment would be highly prejudicial.

But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on you; you have no call to support me.' 'That's all right,' said Michael; 'I'll probably get it out of the leather business.' And having taken down the old gentleman's address, Michael left him at the corner of a street.
'What a wonderful old muddler!' he reflected, 'and what a singular thing is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence.