"Do you remember," he began, "once offering to buy those shares of
mine?"
"Yes, I do," replied Mr. Woodstock, narrowing his eyes.
"Does the offer still hold good?"
"Yes, yes; if you're anxious to realise."
"I am. I want money--for two purposes."
"What are they?" Abraham asked bluntly.
"One is a private matter, which I don't think I need speak of; but
the other I can explain. I have found a courageous publisher who has
offered to bring my book out if I take a certain risk. This I have
made up my mind to do. I want to get the thing out, if only for the
sake of hearing Mrs. Grundy lift up her voice; and if it can't be
otherwise, I must publish at my own expense."
"Will it repay you?" Mr. Woodstock asked.
"Ultimately, I have no doubt; but I don't care so much about that."
"H'm. I should think that's the chief matter to be considered. And
you won't tell me what the other speculation is?"
"I'm going to lend a friend some money, but I don't wish to go into
detail."
The old man looked at him shrewdly.
"Very well," he said presently. "I'll let you have the cash. Could
you manage to look in at the office to-morrow at mid-day?"
This was arranged, and Waymark rose, but Mr.
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