Give me some hole to lie in, George, till you can
get me an order for the nearest hospital. It's a toss-up whether I ever
come out of it."
"Do you think I'd sleep under the roof that sheltered you?" cried George.
"Why not?"
"Why not! Because I'm afraid of you. Because I'd as soon have a cobra
for my companion, or a wolf for my bedfellow. I know you. I've seen what
you can do, and how you can do it. And if you could do those things when
the only pressure upon you was one that you could have cast off by going
through the _Gazette_, what would you _not_ do now when you are as
desperate as a famished wolf, and governed by no better law than that
which governs a wolf--the law of self-preservation? Am I to trust a
tiger because he tells me he is hungry? No, Phil Sheldon; neither will I
trust you."
"You will give me some money--enough to keep me alive for a week or two."
"Not one sixpence. I'll establish no precedent; I'll acknowledge no tie
between us. You'd better march. I don't want to send for a policeman; but
if you won't go quietly, you must do the other thing."
"You mean that?"
"Most emphatically yes."
"I didn't think it was in you to be so hard upon me," faltered; the
wretch in that faint hoarse voice which had grown fainter and hoarser
during this interview.
"Did you think that I would trust you?" cried George. "Trust _you_! You
call me hard because I won't give you a corner to lie in.
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