Both men's features became expressionless.
Duane said: "I had an exceedingly nice note from Rosalie the other day.
She has bought one of those double-deck apartments--but I fancy you know about it." "Yes," said Grandcourt, turning red.

"She was good enough to ask my opinion." He added with a laugh: "I shouldn't think anybody would want my opinion after the way I've smashed my own affairs." Duane smiled, too.

"I've heard," he said, "that yours was the decentest smash of the season.

What is that scriptural business about--about a man who lays down his fortune for a friend ?" "His _life_," corrected Grandcourt, very red, "but please don't confound what I did with anything of importance to anybody." He lighted a cigar from the burning match offered by Duane, very much embarrassed for a moment, then suddenly brightened up: "I'm in business now," he observed, with a glance at the other, partly timid, partly of pride.

"My father was thoroughly disgusted with me--and nobody blames him--so he bought me a seat and, Duane, do you know that I am doing rather well, considering that nobody is doing anything at all." Duane laughed heartily, but his mirth did not hurt Grandcourt, who sat smiling and enjoying his cigar, and looking with confidence into a face that was so frankly and unusually friendly.
"You know I always admired you, Duane--even in the days when you never bothered your head about me," he added naively.