He meant to talk. No getting out of it.
"I--I--have only done well occasionally since the very first. It didn't
matter so long as your mother was alive, and for a little while after. But
when you took things into your own hands...after that it was capital I
turned over to you nearly every month--hardly ever profits."
"What? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I hadn't the courage. I was too anxious to stand well with you. And I
always hoped, believed, I would do better as times improved. I had great
hopes of myself and I had a pretty good start. But as time went on I grew
to understand that my abilities were third-rate. I should have done all
right with a large capital--say a hundred and fifty thousand dollars--but
only a man far cleverer than I am could have got anywhere in that business
with a paltry sixteen thousand to begin on. I got one or two connections
and did pretty well, off and on, for a time; but if I hadn't made one
or two lucky strikes in stocks my capital would simply have run away in
household expenses long ago."
"Then why did you join that expensive club?"
"It was good business," he said evasively. "I meet the right sort of men
there. That's where I got my stock pointers."
"Did you take the bonds to gamble with?"
"No. I'd never have done that. I gambled in another way, though. I thought
I saw a chance to sell a certain commodity at that particular time and
I plunged and sent for a large quantity of it.
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