ook, by
special arrangements with friends or agents in nearby towns and the
principal showy resorts of New York, he managed to know, providing they
did leave the grounds, either with or without his consent, about where
they were and what they had done, and in case any of his rules or their
agreements were broken their privileges were thereafter cut off or they
were promptly ejected, their trunks being set out on the roadway in
front of the estate and they being left to make their way to shelter
elsewhere as best they might.

On one occasion, however, Blake had been allowed to go to New York over
Saturday and Sunday to attend to some urgent business, as he said, he on
his honor having promised to avoid the white lights. Nevertheless he did
not manage so to do but instead, in some comfortable section of that
region, was seen drinking enough to last him until perhaps he should
have another opportunity to return to the city.

On his return to the "shop" on Monday morning or late Sunday night,
Culhane pretended not to see him until noonday lunch, when, his jog over
the long block done with and his bath taken, he came dapperly into the
dining-room, wishing to look as innocent and fit as possible. But
Culhane was there before him at his little table in the center of the
room, and patting the head of one of the two pure-blooded collies that
always followed him about on the grounds or in the house, began as
follows:

"A dog," he said very distinctly and in his most cynical tone and
apparently apropos of nothing, which usually augured that the lightning
of his criticism was about to strike somewhere, "is so much better than
the average man that it's an insult to the dog to compare them. The
dog's really decent. He has no sloppy vices. You set a plate of food
before a regularly-fed, blooded dog, and he won't think of gorging
himself sick or silly. He eats what he needs, and then stops. So does a
cat" (which is of course by no means true, but still--). "A dog doesn't
get a red nose from drinking too much." By now all eyes were turning in
the direction of Blake, whose nose was faintly tinged. "He doesn't get
gonorrhea or syphilis." The united glances veered in the direction of
three or four young scapegraces of wealth, all of whom were suspected of
these diseases. "He doesn't hang around hotel bars and swill and get his
tongue thick and talk about how rich he is or how old his family is."
(This augured that Blake did such things,