Harold MacGrath

“ You're always saying something about sending the check when a chap's ready.”
“I am going away, Mort, perhaps for a long, long time; perhaps ten years; perhaps I shan't come back. Who knows?”
“Is it a woman?”
Crawford laughed. “You're always seeing petticoats. No, Mort, not a woman, only a snow-image. Why can't you pack up and come along with me? Naples will be beautiful now.”
“Too many contracts. I haven't any income like you. I earn lots of money, but I have to keep on earning it And just now I'm in a hole for a new model. ”

“ The bitterness of his tone did not escape Forbes.
“Surely.” Forbes saw the fifteen thousand in bills at the girl's feet, her dull misery over the loss of the box. Had Crawford believed her jewels to be in it? Oh, it was damnable!
They arrived presently before an apartment-building.
“We get out here,” said Crawford, shutting off the power. “Mort, every man has a curtain which he does not lift even to his best friend. To-night I'm going to lift a corner for you. It is because I want some one with me. I am in no mood for sentiment. Come.”
Forbes followed him. ”

“ You always carry a roll, Wheedon. Let me have two hundred and I'll give you my check for it”
The matter was arranged, and Crawford put away the money. It hit Forbes like a blow between the eyes: Crawford asking for cash! A man whose income couldn't be the short side of two hundred thousand a year!
“Going along, Mort? Got my electric outside, and it won't be any trouble to drop you at the studio.” Crawford put his arm across the younger man's shoulders. ”