old rogue is always whining about his friends betraying him. It's all lies; he has no friends. He's never worked a scheme yet with a man without trying to do him in the eye, and he's generally succeeded. You have to get there first with Honest John Driver; and I did. Who wouldn't? But even if he had been my friend, what has the city to do with one's social relations?"
"We're disappointed in you," I said sadly. "If you go back on your friends in business, it is most probable you would go back on them in real life."
"No, no. It isn't so," he protested earnestly. "Business is quite apart."
I could not explain to him that he had already gone back on us, that he had obtained our sympathy and compassion under false pretences, which is no way to treat friends, and I had to seem to accept his explanation. But Angel and I did not restore him to our intimacy, though Chelubai and Bottiger warmed to him again, as soon as they were assured of Angel's coldness, for they thought that he might help the G. P. R. C. to further philanthropic operations. I fancied that they had designs on our good and worthy customer, Honest John Driver.
Now, since Angel and I were tiring of philanthropy, and losing interest in furthering the progress of the human race by removing the wealthy
