I made a little gesture signifying I know not what: that it was not my business, that I was not on sufficient terms of intimacy with Boyce, that it didn't seem important enough ....

My helpless shrug suggested, I suppose, all of these excuses.

Why hadn't I warned him?
Cowardice, I suppose.
"Either you or I must do it," she went on.

"You're his friend.

He thinks more of you than of any other man in the world.