everybody knew what and who was meant. Oh, it was clever — damnably so — and witty. McGill rocked with laughter over it. I found out he had written it.”

“Oh, were you sure?” Valancy’s dull eyes flamed with indignation.

“Yes. He admitted it when I asked him. Said a good idea was worth more to him than a friend, any time. And he added a gratuitous thrust. ‘You know, Redfern, there are some things money won’t buy. For instance — it won’t buy you a grandfather.’ Well, it was a nasty slam. I was young enough to feel cut up. And it destroyed a lot of my ideals and illusions, which was the worst thing about it. I was a young misanthrope after that. Didn’t want to be friends with any one. And then — the year after I left college —