Never in my life have I been downcast over money
matters more than a few minutes. Why should I be? Why should any man be who
has made himself all that he is? As long as his brain is sound, his capital
is unimpaired. When I walked into Mowbray Langdon's office, I was like a
thoroughbred exercising on a clear frosty morning; and my smile was as
fresh as the flower in my buttonhole. I thrust out my hand at him. "I
congratulate you," said I.
He took the proffered hand with a questioning look.
"On what?" said he. It is hard to tell from his face what is going on in
his head, but I think I guessed right when I decided that Saxe hadn't yet
warned him.
"I have just found out from Saxe," I pursued, "about the Canal Bill."
"What Canal Bill?" he asked.
"That puzzled look was a mistake, Langdon," said I, laughing at him. "When
you don't know anything about a matter, you look merely blank. You overdid
it; you've given yourself away."
He shrugged his shoulders. "As you please," said he. As you please was his
favorite expression; a stereotyped irony, for in dealing with him, things
were never as _you_ pleased, but always as _he_ pleased.
"Next time you want to dig a mine under anybody," I went on, "don't hire
Saxe.
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