The journalist's silence was enforced by the topics; but what expression and manner the light allowed them to see was friendly and receptive, as though he listened to brilliant suggestions.
He had a nice courtesy, and Miss Hinsdale felt continually that she was cleverer than usual this evening, and no one took his silence to be churlish, though they all innocently wondered why he did not talk more; however, it was probable that a man who had been so interestingly and terribly shot would be rather silent for a time afterward.
That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own window calling himself names.

He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his friend's window.

After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the door.
"Come." He went in.

Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith entered.

"I--I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, Tom.