They paid me to live abroad.

I'm gambling on THEM; gambling on their takin' me back.
I'm coming home as the Prodigal Son, tired of filling my belly with the husks that the swine do eat; reformed character, repentant and all that; want to follow the straight and narrow; and they'll kill the fatted calf." He laughed sardonically.

"Like hell they will! They'd rather see ME killed." It seemed to me, if he wished his family to believe he were returning repentant, his course in the smoking-room would not help to reassure them.

I suggested as much.
"If you get into 'trouble,' as you call it," I said, "and they send a wireless to the police to be at the wharf, your people would hardly--" "I know," he interrupted; "but I got to chance that.

I GOT to make enough to go on with--until I see my family." "If they won't see you ?" I asked.