Then I blessed Charlie in
many ways--though it was no fault of his. He seemed to be busy
with prize competitions, and I saw less and less of him as the
weeks went by and the earth cracked and grew ripe to spring, and
the buds swelled in their sheaths. He did not care to read or talk of
what he had read, and there was a new ring of self-assertion in his
voice. I hardly cared to remind him of the galley when we met;
but Charlie alluded to it on every occasion, always as a story from
which money was to be made.
"I think I deserve twenty-five per cent., don't I, at least," he said,
with beautiful frankness. "I supplied all the ideas, didn't I?"
This greediness for silver was a new side in his nature. I assumed
that it had been developed in the City, where Charlie was picking
up the curious nasal drawl of the underbred City man.
"When the thing's done we'll talk about it. I can't make anything of
it at present. Red-haired or black-haired hero are equally difficult."
He was sitting by the fire staring at the red coals. "_I_ can't
understand what you find so difficult.
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