Cater was already at work at a big desk as Justin entered, but rose to shake hands. There was a look of melancholy in his eyes, in spite of his smile of greeting. “Anything wrong with you?” asked Justin, instinctively noticing the look rather than the smile. “No,” said Cater. He hooked his legs under his chair, and leaned back, the light from the high unshaded window striking full on his lean yellow countenance. “No, there’s nothing wrong. Got some things off my mind, things that have been bothering me for a long time, and I reckon I don’t feel quite easy without ’em.” “I think you’re very lucky,” said Justin. The light from the high window fell on his face, too—on his brown hair, turning a little gray at the temples, on the set lines of his face, in which his eyes, keen and blue, looked intently at his friend. He was well dressed; the foot that was crossed over his knee was excellently shod. Cater shifted a little in his seat. “Well, I don’t know. My experience is some different from the usual run, I reckon; I never had any big streak of luck that it didn’t get back at me afterwards. There was my marriage—I know it ain’t the thing to talk about your marriage, but you do sometimes. My wife’s a fine woman,—yes, sir, I was mighty lucky to get her,—but I didn’t know how to live up to her family. It’s been that-a-way all my life. Sure’s I get to ringin’ the bells, the floorin’ caves in under me.” “We’ll see that the flooring holds, now that you’re coming in with us,” said Justin good-naturedly. “I’ve got some propositions to put up to you to-day.” Cater shook his head. “There’s no use of your putting up any propositions. I’ve been drawin’ on my well of thought so hard lately that I reckon you could hear the pumps workin’ plumb across the street. I’ve been cipherin’ down to the fact that I can’t go it alone, any more’n you,—there we agree; hold on, now!—but I can’t combine.” “You can’t!” cried Justin, with unusual violence. “Why not?” “Well, you know my feelin’s about trusts, and—I like you, Mr. Alexander, you know that, mighty well, but I balk at your backin’. I don’t believe in it. It’ll fail when you count on it most, it’ll cramp on you merciless if you come short of its expectations. Leverich isn’t so bad, but Martin cramps a hold of him, and I can’t stand Martin havin’ a finger in any concern _I_ have a hold of.” “He’s clever enough to make what he touches pay,” said Justin. Cater’s eyebrows contracted. “You say he’s clever because he’s tricky—because he’s sharp. He isn’t clever enough to make money honestly, he isn’t big enough. You and me, we’re honest, or try to be, but we haven’t the brain to give every man his just due, and get ahead, too. It’s the greatest game there is, but you got to be a genius to play it! You and me, we can’t do it; we ain’t got the brain and we ain’t got the nerve; _I_ haven’t. You’ve just ever-lastingly got to do the best for yourself if you’ve got a family; the best _as_ you see it.”