It was only natural that the thought of his own lapse, the fact that he had taken his first drink and in the drunkenness of it had spent the night in a brothel, seemed of small account in the general wreck. With the family honor already dragged so deeply in the mire of disgrace and criminality, what he might or might not do made little difference one way or the other. Not that he cherished as yet any desperate or boyish determination to take a fool’s revenge by plunging into dissipation. There was only a dull indifference. Pride was dead and the barriers of self-control had been broken down, but life still had to be lived, in some fashion. Upon arriving in Leadville he had himself driven to the hotel where he and Bromley had put up after they had come out of the mountains with Drew in the spring. Still having no desire to eat, he tried to smoke; and when the pipe, on an empty stomach, nauseated him, he went to the bar and called for a drink. As in the morning, the swallow or two of whiskey wrought a miracle and he sought the dining-room and ate a hearty meal. Afterward, with a mild cigar that had none of the dizzying effects of the empty-stomach pipe, he sat in the lobby, and it was there that Drew ran across him. “Back with us again, are you?” was the genial promoter’s greeting as he drew up a chair and planted himself in it for his own after-dinner smoke. “When did you reach?” “Just an hour or so ago,” Philip answered, surprised to find himself able to tolerate and even to welcome the companionship of the older man. “I came up on the South Park day train.” “And how is Henry Wigglesworth? Still making a quiet joke of the world at large?” “Harry is all right. Good luck hasn’t spoiled him, as I was afraid it might.” “Inclined to be a little wild, was he?” Drew remarked. “When I first met him, yes. And I was foolish enough to think that I had to brother him. Queer what notions a man gets into his head, sometimes.” Though he did not look aside, he knew that Drew was regarding him curiously. “You come of brothering stock, don’t you, Trask?” “At one time I was ass enough to think so. That was another of the queer notions. How is the ‘Little Jean’ coming along?” “Splendidly. The vein values are increasing as we drive in on the lode. We are making another clean-up from the plates this week, and you’ll get a dividend that will warm the cockles of your heart.” “Money,” said Philip half contemptuously. “When you don’t have it, it’s the most desirable thing in the world. And when you get it----” he broke off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The promoter smiled. “Money is only a means to an end, of course. If it is not too personal a question, what are you doing with yours?” “Nothing, as yet. Bromley is investing his share here and there, setting me a good example. But I haven’t followed it.”