All of which, it will soon appear, I am setting forth largely in
order to brace and strengthen myself against what I must now
relate.
Before resuming, however, I should mention one detail which Harry
was too modest to mention. He was--or is--unusually good-looking.
I don't mean to claim that he possessed any Greek-god beauty; such
wouldn't gibe with a height of five foot seven. No; his good looks
were due to the simple outward expression, through his features,
of a certain noble inward quality which would have made the
homeliest face attractive. Selfishness will spoil the handsomest
features; unselfishness will glorify.
Moreover, simply because he had given his word to Chick Watson
that he would wear the ring, Harry took upon himself the most
dangerous task that any man could assume, and he had lost. But had
he known in advance exactly what was going to happen to him, he
would have stuck to his word, anyhow. And since there was a
sporting risk attached to it, since the thing was not perfectly
sure to end tragically, he probably enjoyed the greater part of
his experience.
But I'm not like that. Frankly, I'm an opportunist; essentially, a
practical sort of fellow. I have a great admiration for idealists,
but a much greater admiration for results. For instance, I have
seldom given my word, even though the matter is unimportant; for I
will cheerfully break my word if, later on, it should develop that
the keeping of my word would do more harm than good.
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