A man does not openly triumph in victory, as do women.

One sees an easy victor--at lawn tennis, for instance--go to his vanquished foe, wiping vigorously a brow that is scarcely damp, and explaining more or less lamely how it came about.

But the same rarely happens in the "ladies' singles." What, to quote another instance, is more profound than the contempt bestowed by the girl with the good figure upon her who has no figure at all?
Without claiming the virtue of a greater generosity for the sex, one may, perhaps, assume that men learn by experience the danger of despising any man.

The girl with the good figure is sometimes--nay, often--found blooming alone in her superiority, while the despised competitor is a happy mother of children.

And all this to explain that Jack Meredith felt drawn towards his great hulking companion by something that was not a mere respect of mind for matter.
As love is inexplicable, so is friendship.