is to turn the whole show into a company, with the shares held by three or four interested people. 'The Roland Hotels.' How's that strike you?"
Sorrell sat very still, staring at the bowl of his pipe.
"It should be a sound idea."
"So—I think. And as you will be running the Pelican—I shall want you on the board. I have another man in mind. The three of us should do."
Sorrell's eyes rose slowly to Roland's face. He was very ale.
"You mean—me, to manage here?"
"Exactly. You know the business inside out by now. You are the very man for it. Obviously."
Again, there was silence between them, and the silence was understandable. It said more than words. They had worked together for six years.
Sorrell was smiling, but his smile had a glimmer as of tears.
"It's just like you. To tell me—on an evening like this. My dear chap—I"
Roland pretended to drink.
"Rather a good stroke of business for me, Stephen, getting you as manager, and co-director. I think so."
"Roland," said Sorrell, getting up suddenly out of his chair,—"I think I'm a little—drunk. If you had known"
He went and stood at the open window.
"It is what. Well,—the boy. I'm not a snob,—but perhaps you can understand—when he goes up to Trinity—this autumn. To be able to say"
He paused,—and half turning, looked at Roland with shining eyes.
"You are trusting me. You are giving me my chance. You shan't regret"
"My dear chap!"
"Oh,—I know"
"Good God, man,—I'm getting something out of it,—too, a friend and a partner. We are white men, Stephen. What's money but a means to an end. You can put just as much or as little as you please into our show. The Roland Hotels, Limited.—What!"
He laughed, and raised his glass.
"Here's to the old Pelican."
