There was something hard in his throat.

But he put his hand very warmly on his friend's shoulder for a moment and turned away abruptly.

"Joan, Joan," he cried in his heart, "what are you doing, what are we both doing?
Why are we killing the days that can never come back ?" He heard Howard go out.

He heard the front door close and the honk of the horn.

And for a long time he stood beneath the portrait of the man who had gone so far away and who alone could have helped him.
The telephone bell rang.
Martin was spoken to by the girl that lived in the rabbit warren in West Forty-sixth Street in the rooms below those of Tootles.