And long after Steve had
drawn up a chair next the one which Garry had vacated and fallen to
filling his pipe, he stood, shifting from foot to foot in awkward,
uncomfortable silence. He crossed after a time and slipped into the
empty seat. His tongue was as haltingly guilty as his face was pink
with shame when he began to speak.
"Steve," he stammered, "Say, Steve, I--I didn't know I was going to
start anything like that when I begun talking my ideas of art and
literature and such like. I didn't see where it was leading us to--not
for a minute. Why, Steve, every blessed hour of the days and nights
since you've been away, I've been dodgin' every topic of conversation I
thought might hit him hard. I'm just several assorted kinds of
fool--and you followed him that quick and quiet!" The apology was
tinged with pride. "I just didn't think---- But ain't he got a poor
opinion of women folks, though? Was it--a close decision?"
Steve shook his head; he smiled and the returning surety in his face
did much to clear Joe's features.
"No," Steve answered, "not very. Somehow I know already that I needn't
have followed at all, so far as that contingency was concerned. And it
was my fault, Joe, not yours. I should have told you exactly how such
things stood in Garry's mind--would have, if I had had the time. His
opinion of women isn't very high.
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