I remember from the time we were little children, you always had a sort of worried, honest look in school; and you used to make a dent in your forehead--you meant it for a frown--whenever I caught your eye.

You hated me so honestly, and you were so honestly afraid I wouldn't see it!" "Oh, no--no--" "Oh, yes--yes!" she laughed, then grew serious.

"My feeling about you--that you were a person to be relied on, I mean--I think it began that evening in our freshman year, after the _Lusitania_, when I stopped you on campus and you went with me, and I couldn't help crying, and you were so nice and quiet.

I hardly realized then that it was the first time we'd ever really talked together--of course _I_ did all the talking!--and yet we'd known each other so many years.

I thought of it afterward.