"Yes, I do know--that is, I know there are ways in which I might be useful to you." "For instance ?" "Well, there are some little--some very little things I might tell you if we were friends--real friends," she made this plain, "just as two men might be." "But the very last things two men would tell each other," he was laughing now, "are the little things--the things about slang and walking-sticks and oak furniture." So he hadn't forgotten! The recollection of her impertinence confused her, and she hastened to make light of it by protesting gaily: "I was only joking.

Of course, you didn't take that seriously." "I don't know how much more seriously," he replied emphatically, "I could have taken it." "But you haven't thought of it since ?" "What would you say if I told you I hadn't thought of anything else ?" "Then I wish I hadn't said it." She was obviously worried by his admission.

"It was horrid of me--perfectly horrid.

I ought to have been ashamed of myself.

I had no right to criticise you, and you have been so heavenly kind." "After that"-- he appeared to be hammering the idea into her mind--"I was so grateful I'd have done almost anything.