He has no capital of his own, and he can't raise money in New York.
Besides, he didn't want a newspaper anywhere else. And--and--of-course,
you know, newspaper men hear all the talk--he was terribly hard hit.
I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for you when I heard you
were ill and all the rest; but today you looked as if you had
forgotten poor Masters had ever lived--just a Society butterfly and a
coquette."
"Oh, I'm not blaming you! Perhaps it is all my fault. I don't know!--
But _that_! I can't believe it. I never knew a man with as strong a
character. He--he--always could control himself. And he had too much
pride and ambition."
"I guess you don't know it, but he had a weak spot for liquor. That
is the reason he drank less than the rest of us--and that did show
strength of character: that he could drink at all. I only saw him
half-seas over once. He told me then he was always on the watch lest
it get the best of him. His father drank himself to death after the
war, and his grandfather from mere love of his cups. Nothing but a
hopeless smash-up, though, would ever have let it get the best of
him.... He was terribly high-strung under all that fine repose of
his, and although his mind was like polished metal in a way, it was
full of quicksilver.
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