You fought your way out.

You lived! And all these years, down here on your porch, you've been dreaming of a woman, of the girl you were willing to die for a long time ago.

Fingers, am I right?
And if I am, will you shake hands ?" Slowly Fingers had risen from his chair.

No longer were his eyes dull and lifeless, but flaming with a fire that Kent had lighted again after many years.

And he reached out a hand and gripped Kent's, still staring at him as though something had come back to him from the dead.
"I thank you, Kent, for your opinion of that man," he said.