She dropped her hand on his nearer shoulder.
After all these months of friendship it was the first approach to a
caress that had passed between them.
"You're a good friend," she said, and then the hand that had rested on
him so lightly suddenly gripped hard. "And I guess I need one," she
ended.
He went on filling his pipe. "Anything special you need one for?" he
asked quietly.
[Illustration: "You're a good friend," she said.]
She gave a ragged little laugh. "I guess not. Just somebody strong and
steady to hold on to like this."
"Well," he said very deliberately, "you want to realize this: You say
I'm a friend and I am, but if there is anything in this friendship which
can be of use to you you're entitled to it; to everything there is in
it. Because you made it."
"One person can't make a friendship," she said. "Even two people can't.
It's got to--grow out of them somehow."
He assented with a nod. "But in this case who gave it a chance to grow?
Where would it have been if I'd had my way? If you hadn't pulled me up
and set me straight?"
"For that matter," she said, "where would it have been if I had had
mine? If I'd run away and tried for a fresh start, as I'd have done if
you hadn't set me right?"
"Make it so," he said.
Pages:
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962