"And I want to talk to you. What are you doing for yourself, George? Still working in a broker's office?" "Oh, I've got an office of my own now." "Getting along all right?" "Fairly well," Lerton said. "Business has been pretty good the last year." "Maybe you can dig up a few good investments for me, then," Prale said. "I've got some coin now." "I understand that you're worth a million, Sid." "Yes, I've made my pile, and came back to New York to enjoy it. But come along to the hotel." "I'd--I'd rather not." "Why not? We've got to talk over old times and find out about each other. We're cousins, you know." The truth of the matter was that Sidney Prale never had thought very much of his cousin. Ten years before they had worked side by side for Griffin, the broker. There was something furtive and shifty about George Lerton, but he never had presumed on his relationship, at least. He and Sidney Prale had been courteous to each other, but never had been warm friends. They came from different branches of the family. Lerton had some traits of character that Prale did not admire, but he always told himself that perhaps he was prejudiced. They had seen a deal of each other in a social way in the old days. "Let us just talk as we walk along," Lerton now said. "All right, if you have an engagement," Prale replied. "We can get together later, I suppose. How have the years been using you? Married?" "I was--I am a widower." "Sorry," said Prale. "Children?" "No--not any children. I--I married Mary Slade." "What?" Prale cried. He stopped, aghast. Mary Slade had been the girl who had turned him down for a man with money--and that man had not been George Lerton, who did not have as much as five thousand at that time. "It--it's a peculiar story," Lerton said. "You went away so quick--after you quarreled with her. And that other man--she threw him over, soon. She couldn't endure him, even with all his money. She regretted her quarrel with you. I'm quite sure she wanted you for a time. I got to taking her about. You didn't write, and she was too proud to look you up, and so--after a time----" "You married her," said Prale. "About three years after you went away, Sid. She died after we had been married a year." "But she always wanted money, and I had as much as you." "I made a strike soon after you left, Sid. I plunged with my five thousand, and turned it into a hundred thousand inside four months. I kept on, and got more. I was worth almost half a million when we were married." "I see. Well, there are no hard feelings, George. She was a good woman, in a way, and I'm sorry you lost her. I suppose we'll have to get together, for old time's sake." "Are you going to stay here long, Sid?" "Long? I've sold out all my Honduras holdings, and I'm here to spend the rest of my days. I've come home for good, George. The United States is plenty good enough for me. I'm going to be a civilized gentleman from now on." "You--you're not going back?"