“As a matter of fact, we have a number of architects, not exactly in the club, but friendly toward it, and on intimate terms with us. I’ll introduce you to some of them when—when you get on your feet. How old are you? Thirty?” “Thirty-one.” For some two minutes he went on writing. “How long since you’ve been drinking?” “My last drink was three days ago.” “And how long since you’ve been actually drunk?” “About a week.” “And before that?” “It was pretty nearly all the time.” “It’s a great advantage to you to come to us sober. It means that you know what you’re doing and are to some extent counting the cost. Men will take any kind of vow when they’re”—his glance traveled involuntarily to the back room—“when they’re coming off a spree. The difficulty is to make them keep their promises when they’ve got over the worst of it. In your case—” “I’ve got a motive, sir.” “Then so much the better.” I turned to Lovey. “Lovey, would you mind stepping into the next room? There’s something I want to speak about privately.” “If it’s to let me in for worse, sonny—” “No, it won’t let you in for anything. It’s only got to do with me.” “Then I don’t pry into no secrets,” he said, as he moved away reluctantly; “only, when fellas is buddies together—” “I’ve a confession to make,” I continued, when Lovey was out of earshot. “Last night I—” “Hold on! Is it necessary for you to tell me this or not?” I had to reflect. “It’s only necessary in that I want you to know the worst of me.” “But I’m not sure that we need to know that. It often happens that a man does better in keeping his secrets in his own soul and shouldering the full weight of their responsibility. Isn’t it enough for us to know of you what we see?” “I don’t know that I can judge of that.” “Then tell me this: What you were going to say—is it anything for which you could be arrested?” “It’s nothing for which I shall be arrested.” “But it’s an offense against the law?” I nodded. “And what renders you immune?” “The fact that—that the person most concerned has—has forgiven it.” “Man or woman?” “Woman.” His eyes wandered along the cornice as he thought the matter out. I saw then that they were wonderfully clear gray eyes, not so much beautiful as perfect—perfect in their finish as to edge and eyelash, but perfect most of all because of their expression of benignity. “I don’t believe I should give that away,” he said, at last; “not now, at any rate. If you want to tell me later—” He changed the subject abruptly by saying, “Is that the only shirt you’ve got?” I told him I had two or three clean ones in my trunk, but that that was held by my last landlord. “How much did you owe him?” I produced a soiled and crumpled bill. He looked it over. “We’ll send and pay the bill, and get your trunk.” The generosity almost took my breath away. “Oh, but—”